Venom: A Dark Retelling

by Dee Garcia

  “Within her presence, yes,” he confesses.

  That explains it.

  “Ah, I see. Well, that’s certainly unfortunate, but—”

  “You told me so, yes, I know,” he grumbles, slouching back in his seat.

  “Should’ve played by the rules, bro. You had two cunts at your disposal and you fucked it up,” Leandre snickers across from him, shaking his head.

  “I didn’t intend to,” Sam counters. “Being with the two of them was fun, at first anyway.”

  “Until?”

  He bobs his shoulder in a hasty, thoughtless shrug. “Until Brielle.”

  “I think Nina should take that as a compliment, but that’s just my two cents,” Kaz quips, interlocking his fingers behind his head.

  “You let me know how you feel about that when someone else is lusting after your girl,” Emil comments.

  Kaz flashes him the most dubious yet equally amused look. “I don’t have a girl and I don’t want one. Not my style, so it’s not an issue in my book.”

  “You say that now,” Emil chortles. “One day a female is going to knock you on your ass, and when that day comes, don’t come running to me about it.”

  Both Malik and Armand chuckle right along with him, earning the table one of Kaz’s exaggerated eyerolls and a flip of his fingers. “Unlikely, assholes. You’ll never catch me—”

  “Never say never,” I interject, steepling my fingers. “Now, let’s veer back on topic. I’ll take a little trip to the sanctuary later today and pass along the invitation for, say, tomorrow?”

  The boys agree, sure nods and hums of approval sounding around me.

  “Be aware, though—once they’re in the know, it’s going to get ugly.”

  Very ugly. The witches already suspect the worst. It’s been days since Aester and N’Isabelle disappeared, and they’re clueless of Persia’s return. When they learn of what’s been under their noses the whole time?

  “Are you giving Marlena the heads up?” Armand questions.

  “I’m not giving that conniving little bitch shit,” I spit venomously. “She turned her back on me, then tried quailing me into her plan. The witches could choose to behead them and stake their heads in town for all I care. As I told Marlena, she deserves it and so much more. What’s important is the witches are able to secure both Persia and her daughter safely.”

  “What about the spell? Will the witches be able to undo that?” Draegan finally chimes in.

  I can’t offer anything other than a shrug. “Another question I don’t have the answer to. Jot that down on the list of things we need to review with them.”

  Draegan nods and quite literally scribbles it in his notepad as Kaz drops his elbows onto the table. “If I were them, I’d bind Marlena and her demonic little mermaids to the shore. Let them dry out beneath the sun.”

  Sun.

  The sun.

  Sunlight.

  Such a reference instantly reminds me of one very important detail: Tinksley can’t roam free without that daylight spell.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  “We can’t kill them,” I blurt, racking my brain for a way around this.

  “What? Why not?” Armand scoffs. “Best thing we’ll ever do, along with ridding this island of those vile Faes.”

  “The daylight spell. I need them to cast it for Tinksley.”

  Goddammit. How the hell am I ever going to get them to agree to this now?

  “Actually, we may not need them,” Sam pipes up, mimicking Kaz. “I’m almost positive Nina and Brielle told me it’s entirely possible for them to cast a daylight spell, too.”

  Really now? “You’re certain?”

  He nods. “Don’t quote me one-hundred, but I’m ninety-eight percent sure. Their practice is different but the end result would be the same.”

  Guess I’m heading down to the sanctuary now rather than later. “We’ll reconvene this conversation tomorrow. Sam, can someone keep an eye on her for me while I’m gone?”

  “Of course, Cap, I’ll do it.”

  “Terrific, I appreciate it. Just don’t piss her off, please. Last thing I need is her flipping the Fae switch and running rampant. It’s not even been twenty-four hours yet.”

  “I had a feeling the sirens were involved,” says Fawn within the furnished courtyard of the sanctuary.

  She’s one of the more quiet witches from the Sacred Six, yet one of the darker, more gothic personalities, too. Her long, sleek tresses resemble Marlena’s, only in a rusted orange rather than a flaming red.

  “Mmm, I agree,” Jewel chimes, twirling a keyring around her finger. She’s quiet as well, but that doesn’t deter her from being quite promiscuous, or so I’ve been told.

  Nina and Brielle are also present for our impromptu meeting, although they haven’t said much. Actually, they’re all strangely and disconcertingly calm after just being told one of their own was murdered in cold blood.

  “So if Aester really is dead, then where’s her body, blood sucker?” That’s Nina, who has refused her better half the option of sitting at her side.

  Rich insult coming from her when she’s had a vampire cock destroying her pussy on more than one occasion. Doesn’t bother me, I’m too amused by her building performance to care.

  Clearly, the two are still quarrelling over the Sam ordeal.

  “Are you even listening?” Brielle barks back at her across the way. “The sirens are behind this. They obviously consumed her.”

  Nina’s head nearly snaps off her neck, a rebuttal forming on the tip of her tongue, when Fawn shoots onto her feet and places herself between them, palms outstretched. “If the two of you can’t sit in the same room for something this important, then go, now. Those water cannibals slaughtered Aester and have, not only Persia, but N’Isabelle in some song-induced slumber, and you want to sit here fighting like juveniles over a cock? Grow the fuck up and handle it like adults!”

  Neither witch in question dares fire back, which surprises me. As I said, Fawn and Jewel tend to hover in the shadows, only making themselves known when their coven sisters need them. Nina and Brielle, though—they prefer the spotlight. Seems the roles have reversed with their leader being incapacitated.

  Jewel rakes her dirty blonde locks to one side. “What else do you know, Captain?”

  “As I said, the sirens plotted the attack. However, Pan was their executioner. Aester was his so-called ‘sacrifice’ in order to access the portal, and N’Isabelle was what they wanted in exchange for aiding him.”

  “All for a spell. He’ll pay,” Fawn grits bitterly. “They’ll all pay.”

  I scoff. “If you can find him. He’s crossed over.”

  The witch ticks her head aside. “Have you forgotten the details of his past already?” she retorts, reclaiming her seat near the fountain. “We have eyes and ears on the other side.”

  Yes, they surely do.

  “My apologies; it slipped my mind. In any case, I’m happy to help in any way I can, as are my men. We can discuss a plan of attack tomorrow while they’re all present.”

  Fawn and Jewel exchange a look, one that doesn’t extend to the troubled lovers, and nod in unison. “We’ll see you tomorrow then,” Fawn concedes, slinking one leg over the other as I rise from my seat. “Oh, and Captain?”

  I lift a brow at the soft lilt of her voice.

  “Don’t forget—we need a strand of Tinksley’s hair, a ruby, and whatever pendant you desire to hold it.”

  “Noted. I’ll have everything ready before you arrive. See you in the morning, ladies.” I say nothing more as I spin on heels and saunter out of their temple, their goodbyes caressing my back in waves.

  A ruby and a pendant; I’m not worried about the hair.

  The ruby is easy—there’s several hidden within my treasures.

  It’s the pendant I’m stumped on, mostly because it’s one Tinksley will have to wear on a daily basis. Needs to be delicate enough to fit her frame yet durable enough to withstand even th
e most trying situations.

  Basically, it needs to be perfect.

  After evanescing my way out of the witches’ domain, I slowed my pace at the very edge of town and strolled through, making a quick stop at the bakery.

  Now, with a fragrant box of cupcakes in hand—her favorite kind—I’m locking the palace doors behind myself and taking the steps two at a time.

  I’ve not made it halfway down the hall when Tinksley comes scurrying out of her room, tracking both ends of the corridor. Her sense of smell is on pure fire right now.

  When she sees me—or rather, when she sees the box—those bright, aquamarine irises light up in excitement as she bounds up to me. “Tell me those are cupcakes in there.”

  “They are.” I nod, fighting back a grin.

  “Well, can I have one?” Not just a question; a demand.

  The feistiness on this one.

  Said grin breaks free. “Of course. I brought them for you, brat.”

  In a mere blink, her cheeks heat, and not a result of embarrassment, either. Rolling her eyes, she sighs profoundly, probably wishing me to hell and back fifty times for the jab. “You’re obnoxious, you know that?”

  “Meh, I beg to differ.”

  “Of course you do.” Another eye roll as she holds a hand out. “Cupcake?”

  “Walk with me?”

  “Where?”

  I grin devilishly “For another round of chess.”

  She doesn’t return it, crossing her arms in an X before her. “No way in hell. None whatsoever.”

  “Why not?” I waggle my eyebrows. “Afraid I’ll really do some damage this time?”

  “I’m pretty sure you already did. I mean, look at me.” She gestures to herself and it’s less than pleased.

  I know what she’s getting at, too; how different she looks, what she’s lost in the process. Her hair is darkening, but honestly? I love it. Same as her markings. They’ve blackened in entirety now, like beautifully tattooed filigree swirls.

  “I think you look perfect.” I make it a point to drag my gaze from the tips of her toes up to her head.

  She flushes a second, and this time, it’s not in contained ire. “Of course you do,” she repeats, shoving at my shoulder playfully.

  Catching her wrist with a quick hand, I yank her toward me, tamping down the raging impulse to kiss her. “I do.”

  She swallows and averts her eyes back to the box. “Can I have my cupcake now?”

  “Will you join me for dinner now?”

  “Can I have the cupcake and dinner?” she fires back.

  “You can have the cupcake after dinner, yes.”

  “Stop freaking treating me like a kid.” Another shove to my shoulder, one I react to in flash, rushing her into the wall.

  “Oh I know you’re not, trust me.” Nose in her hair, lips parting against the delicate column of her neck, I lick my way along the curve up her ear.

  “You thought that was any indication?” She means last night. “I haven’t even warmed up yet.”

  Humming, I stamp featherlight kisses along her jaw, halting just above her lips. “We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess. That said, will you please join me for dinner?”

  Tinksley shudders, and I don’t miss it. Just like I don’t miss the desperation painted in such detail on her face. Sheer and ever-impressive willpower get her through, but not by much.

  I’ll have her soon.

  It’s only a matter of time.

  “Lead the way, Captain,” she breathes.

  That tone, the wanton glimmer of her stare…

  Yup, soon. Very soon. I almost say fuck the cupcakes and burrow us away in my quarters right then. If I don’t end up mauling her by the end of the night, it’ll be a fucking miracle.

  Pushing off her proves to be difficult. I manage—barely—and outstretch my arm in offering, setting my poker face in place.

  Tinksley latches on without a word, looking straight ahead as we fall in stride and amble toward the dining room. She won’t dare gaze at me, no matter how long I stare.

  I’m pleased to find no one occupying the room when we arrive. They must’ve eaten while I was gone, which leads me to wonder why Tinksley hasn’t eaten yet.

  She was waiting for you.

  That’s what I want to think, what I allow myself to believe.

  What else could it be?

  Pulling out the chair to the left of the head, I wait until she’s seated to push her in, set the little white box beside her, and stroll over to the hutch. It’s quite big and, to an outsider, nothing more than an oversized hutch.

  It’s a fridge, though, where we keep the main stash of our donated blood. There’s a similar one in the parlor, and a smaller deep-freezer down in the cellar.

  I take two bags, shut the doors, and pluck two wine goblets from the exterior cabinets before making my way back to the table.

  “So, I spoke to the witches today,” I tell Tinksley as I sink into my seat.

  “About?”

  “Primarily? Marlena’s betrayal and what’s happened because of it. I also mentioned that I needed help with a daylight spell.” Ripping open a bag, I pour its crimson contents into one of the glasses and slide it over to her, quickly repeating the process for myself.

  Her pupils dilate at the sight of it, ebony veins beneath her eyes rippling in need. I’m impressed, yet again, at how quickly she reins herself in and reaches for the glass.

  Even I wasn’t that restrained.

  “Can they do that?”

  “According to them? Yes, which is fortunate for us considering the sirens aren’t a species I have much trust for at the moment.”

  Tinksley takes a generous sip, eyes falling shut in silent appreciation. The way her throat bobs as she swallows…

  Jesus Christ.

  My dick twitches with each swig.

  “No scalpels, right?”

  A chuckle bubbles deep within my gut. “None. It’s painless and fairly quick. They’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  I nod.

  “Once it’s done, can you take me to go see my mother?”

  “You don’t need me to go,” I remind her, swirling the blood in my glass. “You’re free to go at any time.”

  An abrupt laugh rents the air. “Unlikely. You promised you’d help me, told me I could stay as long as I like, sooo now you’re rather stuck with me. Sorry, Cap.”

  Oh, the seemingly innocent spirit of that retort. Operative word being seemingly.

  A smirk curls my lips because of it. “You act like I don’t want you here.”

  “Well, do you?”

  Let’s see how she handles this. “I’d actually prefer to have you right here,” I tap the table, where my place setting would go, “but, one can’t always have their way, right?”

  From light and hopefully, delightfully amused, the look in her eyes darkens.

  Dramatically.

  “Do I look like dinner to you?” Her voice is breathy, more sensuous than I think she was anticipating.

  Sure she won’t be anticipating this, either. “More like the appetizer, main course, dessert, and midnight snack,” I croon.

  A sharp inhale follows, gaze drifting to the space I pointed out. “What would you do if I actually took that spot?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for that answer? Because I promise you it won’t be anything short of crude.”

  “Try me,” she dares.

  I’m honestly fascinated. There’s always been a fire in Tinksley, a wild side she had to subdue more times than not. Never did I think I’d be the one to unleash it.

  A sly grin tugs my lips, head shaking side to side. “You asked for it.”

  “Ohhh, I’m so scared.”

  “You should be.”

  “Still waiting, Captain.” Such goading emphasis, meant to ignite the flame and spur me forth.

  It works, I won’t lie.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and come have a seat?”
Tone even, I rub at the exact spot in question and scoot my seat backward. “I prefer show and tell.”

  To my surprise—much, I should add—Tinksley rises from her chair and sidles around the table, lifting herself onto the edge. “Are you saying you’re an exhibitionist, Captain Hook?”

  “I can be, but I’m more a voyeur.” Now especially as I intend to finally spread her legs and claim her in all the ways I’ve been fantasizing about for years.

  A part of me can’t believe this is happening.

  “Yeah?” She giggles. “Did you ever watch me?”

  My palms run up her thighs, gaze following leisurely. “Plenty.”

  “Wait, really?”

  “Irrelevant right now. Lean back.”

  Our eyes lock on my command. Surprise reflects back at me, sleek brow lifting in a curious arch. My lips quirk in a devious smirk. There’s a sense of hesitation there, that quintessential, innocent, Tinksley Bell shyness, but she can’t fight the fire for long.

  It’s there, burning wildly already, waiting to devour us whole as we take what we want and indulge.

  “You see this little dress?” I wedge my way between her legs, pushing her backward with a guiding hand. She nods as she leans back onto her elbows, watching me intently. “It’s covering far too much for me to enjoy my meal.”

  Not for much longer.

  Fingers slipping beneath the dark fabric, I slink it up her thighs, exposing soft, creamy skin, and a strip of black lace concealing what I know will soon sequester every ounce of self-control I possess.

  “What next?” Her teeth clamps into her bottom lip.

  Panties, that’s what.

  “These seem to be in the way, too. Don’t get me wrong, they look amazing on you, but they need to go.”

  Not a single protest.

  Not a single move made to stop me as I peel them down her legs and lift the scrap up to my nose. My eyes fall shut in bliss with that first intoxicating inhale.

  No, intoxicating doesn’t cover it.

  Christ, it’s...my mouth waters as her scent permeates my senses, dick jolting upright. Everything in me rallies to life in a craze, in this rabid, manic need to mark her with my stamp right this second. I have to stuff them into the pocket of my shirt to rein myself in from skipping any kind of foreplay and diving balls deep into the main event on this damned table.