His Sweetest Venom

For three years, the mission was my life. Then I got pregnant.

And that’s when the System told me it had the wrong girl.

I was so grateful I could have wept. I was packed and gone in an hour.

Ten minutes later, my husband, who was supposed to be in London on business, materialized in our bedroom.

His eyes were wounded, his lips pressed into a thin line. "On the divorce papers, under 'reason,' you wrote that I'm...too rough. We can work on that. I can be gentler, Audrey. Can't I?"

I saw the flicker of something inhuman in the color of his eyes, and a sob tore from my throat. "I've always been afraid of snakes."

1

On the third anniversary of my marriage to Damian, the System, long silent, suddenly reappeared.

I'm so sorry, Host! I’ve just realized you’re not the protagonist!

I was dabbing concealer onto my collarbones, trying to hide the faint, rosy marks he’d left, getting ready for the lecture I had to give. Hearing its voice, I shot straight up.

"Are you serious?"

Its tone was steeped in apology. Yes. It was a clerical error on my part. A mix-up. You’re just a… a very beautiful bystander. Damian has already met the true protagonist.

I dropped to my knees on the cold marble floor and bowed my head ten times in silent, profound thanks.

The System burst into digital tears. Oh no, this is a disaster! The Host has had a complete mental breakdown!

"Quiet," I told it, scrambling to the walk-in closet and digging under a stack of cashmere for the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago.

Holy hell.

I knew it. I always knew it. My family has been in the funeral business for generations—we craft exquisite, custom caskets. What were the odds that I’d end up married to a titan of the New York financial world? I was in a daze on my wedding day, completely bewildered. But he’d looked at me with such a convincing, deep affection in his eyes, a perfect mask of devotion.

It was only recently that I learned he wasn't human at all.

He was raising livestock. And I was the prize pig.

2

The System first contacted me during my sophomore year of college. It told me I was the protagonist.

I told it I was the Queen of England.

It directed my attention to the man who had just dropped onto campus to give a guest lecture on market volatility: Damian Blackwood.

He’s the male lead, it said. Give it some thought.

He was magnetic, with a sharp intelligence that seemed to radiate from him. Men and women alike swarmed him, phones held high to snap pictures. The lecture hall was packed to the rafters.

I swallowed hard. "I suppose I could make an effort."

Inside, my heart was exploding. My ancestors must have done something right to land me a catch like this.

Back then, I thought I had some kind of protagonist's halo. Winning over Damian was so suspiciously easy, it felt like one of those elaborate scams you read about online. But he was incredibly generous, and his affection never felt fake. We got married without a hitch.

Aside from a certain coolness and a possessive streak, he was practically perfect. He was healthy, and he indulged my every whim.

I thought it was love.

It wasn't until a year ago that I discovered I was his prey.

He was feeding on me.

Literally.

3

Last New Year's Eve, he had a last-minute business trip, so I flew home to my parents. They complained I was interrupting their quiet life and sent me packing back to Damian after only two days. As I was leaving, my mother pressed a container of her homemade lasagna into my hands.

"Make sure Damian eats plenty. There's more in the freezer."

I stood on the porch, hands on my hips. "Mom, what about me?"

My father chimed in. "Don't be selfish, Audrey. Damian always lets you have the first bite of everything. You've put on a little weight, you know. It's time you let him have his turn."

I pouted, dragging my suitcase back to the city in a huff.

I remembered the moon was a slim crescent when I left the airport that night. By the time I walked up the long drive to our house, it was a full, luminous orb. The air was heavy and still, thick with a strange tension. And I could hear a woman's voice from inside.

I slipped in through the back garden gate.

There, under the wisteria-covered trellis, stood Damian and a woman whose face was turned away from me.

Her first words hit me like a physical blow.

"You take so little each time," the woman said, her voice a low purr. "Are you trying to be a hummingbird sipping nectar?"

"Any more and she'd get suspicious," Damian replied.

Hearing that, a phantom ache bloomed in my wrist. I lifted my hand to the moonlight, and the two tiny red dots on my skin seemed to glow. There were identical marks on my neck. I thought back to the nights when, lost in passion, he would bite me in those tender places. I’d always thought it was just his little quirk, a secret intimacy between us.

The woman laughed. "I prefer to drain my prey completely, then swallow them whole. It's no fun relying on just one. Next time, I'll bring you a few new toys to play with."

Huddled in the shadows, I squinted, and I could have sworn the woman's long, dark hair was writhing. As I focused, I realized it wasn't hair at all. It was a nest of thin, black snakes. She plucked one from her scalp and let it coil around her fingers.

"Don't forget to maintain your form, Damian," she cooed, her hand slithering up his chest to straighten his tie. "We wouldn't want her to find out, would we?"

I dug my nails into my palms, forcing back tears, my heart hammering against my ribs. Because in the next instant, the woman's form dissolved, melting into a colossal white python that slithered away into the darkness of the woods.

4

I kicked off my shoes and backed away on silent feet, then ran to the nearest hotel to hide and try to quiet my shaking hands.

The System had once told me its mission was complete, that the protagonist and male lead would be together forever. I’d assumed it was a metaphor. That night, I realized being devoured was also a form of eternal union. A very physical one.

Damian, unaware he’d been exposed, continued to play the part of the devoted husband. Thinking my appetite was off, he tried tempting me with all my favorite foods.

My God, are all you monsters so considerate to your food?

I refused to eat, telling him I was on a diet. He just looked at me with that soulful, adoring gaze.

"Darling, you're beautiful no matter what."

It was in those moments that I noticed it: his pupils were deeper, wider than a normal person's. When he stared at me, his eyes held a glint of pure, ravenous hunger. I had to secretly wipe away tears.

Monsters were master actors, far better than human men. After all, they were willing to put in the effort to keep their prey happy. Not like most men I knew, who were all sweet talk and empty promises, ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

Damian’s performance was flawless. The kisses, the cuddles, the impeccable attention to my needs. But the more he did it, the more I thought of a cat playing with a mouse. The cat never eats it right away. It has to have its fun first. Damian was playing with me.

When he noticed me pulling away, he started drugging me.

My guess is that going too long without feeding caused his animal traits to surface. Twice, when I fought to stay conscious, I saw the faint shimmer of scales on his forearms in the dim light, and a wave of goosebumps washed over my skin.

Under the influence of whatever he was giving me, just the sight of his face made my heart race, my blood hum, my body flush with heat. It was a path straight to ecstasy. When he bit me, I no longer felt even the slightest prick of pain, lost in a consuming, hypnotic pleasure. In the haze, I could hear his satisfied whispers.

"My love, you're so sweet."

"My love, I could just eat you all up."

I think I died a little inside each time.

It's not that I wanted to cooperate. But he had me tagged like a wild animal; no matter where I went, he always seemed to know. He was never worried I'd run.

It's just the romantic bond between a protagonist and the male lead, the System had chirped.

Romantic, my ass. I was a mouse in the cat's jaws. How could I not be terrified?

5

A year passed like that. Then the System showed up again, telling me I wasn't the one.

I knew my daily prayers to every deity I could think of had to count for something.

The only complication was the unidentified species currently taking up residence in my womb. But my family had connections, people who dealt with… unusual situations.

As I left, dragging my suitcase behind me, I asked the System one last time. "Once the real story starts, Damian will really forget about me? Are you sure?"

Positive. One hundred percent.

A sigh of relief escaped me. Once this was over, I was going to build a shrine. I was going to volunteer in the Peace Corps. I was going to go dig wells in Africa.

Conveniently, Damian was in London closing a deal. He wouldn't be back for a while. I packed a go-bag with essentials and booked the first flight to Iceland.

Snakes hate the cold. Damian especially hated the cold. I hoped he'd take the hint.

Just as I was about to shout "I'm finally free!" my phone rang. It was Damian.

"Why is there a draft for divorce papers in your email? Did you find someone else? Who is he? I'll kill him."

His voice grew deeper, colder with each word. I used to think he had separation anxiety, that he’d get clingy if I was away too long. Now I knew it was prey separation anxiety. He panicked if his favorite snack wasn’t within reach.

He seemed to realize his mistake. "Audrey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with what sounded like tears. "I was impulsive. We can talk about this. Please."

I was just wondering how he knew about the papers. I’d only sent them to Riley and my lawyer. I shot them both a quick text.

A moment later, a message came back from my lawyer, Mr. Chen.

My apologies, Mrs. Blackwood. I'm actually on your husband's payroll. The retainer he offered was… substantial.

I could have screamed.

I decided to be cruel, to make up a reason so insulting he’d have to let me go. "You're like a machine, all force and no finesse. Life is too short. I'm going to find some actual pleasure."

His voice was small, wounded. "I was trying to be careful. I was gentle. I even took courses… I thought you liked it."

My face burned. "I don't want to hear it," I snapped. "We're done. Goodbye. I hope you find your true love." And leave a poor human girl alone.

I hung up before he could respond.

Passing through the living room, I glanced at the TV, which was tuned to a nature documentary. I was suddenly reminded of the one time I’d seen Damian’s other form. His semi-transformed state.

It was a full moon. I had come home unexpectedly to grab a file, and he, hearing me, had quickly locked the bedroom door. But I was fast enough to see the motion. He hadn’t used his hand. He’d hooked the door shut with his tail.

A long, black tail.

The memory made me sick with fear.

I don’t know why I’m so terrified of snakes. It’s been with me since childhood, a primal fear that goes deeper than simple instinct.

The System assured me that Damian and the real protagonist were meeting in London right now. Their romance was about to blossom.

I shut off the TV and splashed some cold water on my face. Freedom. Freedom, here I come.

I had just walked into the bedroom to get my passport when I heard a sound behind me.

Damian, who was supposed to be an ocean away, was standing in the room. My God, I didn't know teleportation was one of his skills.

I spun around, and my eyes met his. I saw the unnatural glow in their depths, the one that only appeared when he was aroused or enraged.

"I can be gentler," he repeated, his voice a low plea.

A sob escaped me as I backed away. "I've always been afraid of snakes."

6

The words had barely left my lips when a small, bright green snake poked its head out from the collar of his shirt, its beady eyes fixed on me. Hearing my confession, it seemed to understand, and it quickly slithered down Damian’s arm and out of the room.

The sight of its slick skin and sinuous movement sent a shriek tearing from my throat.

Damian immediately slammed the door shut and, just as he always did, pulled me into his arms to comfort me. The irony was suffocating. He was the greatest threat of all.

I struggled out of his embrace and retreated to the window. "Get out!" I screamed. "Both of you, get out!"

The little green snake poked its head back through the crack in the door, a few blades of catnip dangling from its mouth. It chewed thoughtfully, looking utterly clueless. As the commotion in the bedroom grew, it just stared at me with wide, innocent eyes.

Tears streamed down my face like a broken pearl necklace. It was terrifying enough on its own. The fact that it could understand English made it a thousand times worse.

Damian, flustered, turned and hissed at the little snake, shooing it away. He still didn't realize that my terror of him was absolute.

He took a step towards me, wanting to hold me. I scrambled onto the bed and scurried to the other side of the room.

He thought I was just angry about the snake. "It must have snuck in," he explained, his voice laced with that same wounded tone. "We have catnip in the garden. I have no idea why it likes to eat that."

He closed the distance in a single stride, scooped me up, and placed me gently on the bed. Then he knelt on the floor beside it, looking up at me. I noticed his pupils flickering with the intensity of his emotions. When the sunlight hit them, they seemed to explode into a galaxy of gold. They were just like the eyes of the snakes I’d seen in documentaries.

His expression softened, and he reached out to touch my face. My mind flashed with images of black scales, and a wave of revulsion washed over me. I slapped his hand away, hard.

Damian’s lips trembled almost imperceptibly before he forced a placid smile. "If you don't like it, I'll get rid of it right now."

Fighting my fear, I shrank back on the bed, my voice hot and sharp. "It's not that I don't like it. I hate snakes. I despise them."

When I was little, my teacher showed our class a nature film. A snake swallowed a live mouse, its belly twitching as the mouse struggled inside. The sight made me physically sick. I had nightmares for a month. Even now, the memory makes me want to vomit.

At my words, he froze. His long lashes fluttered as his gaze fell to my ankle, his face clouded with an indescribable sadness.

7

I’d twisted my ankle yesterday, and it was still slightly swollen.

As he moved to touch it, I snapped, "Don't touch me."

"Oh. Okay." He looked lost for a moment, then stood. "I'll go deal with the snake."

The moment he left the bedroom, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and reached for my phone to call my uncle, the one who dabbled in the occult. Then I remembered: my purse, my phone, everything was in the living room.

A cold dread washed over me. I had arranged for a colleague to pick me up for a trip we were taking. A male colleague. From my office. We were friends.

Damian was a jealous man. No, that wasn't right. He used to be a jealous husband. Now he was a predator guarding his kill. He would assume someone was trying to steal his food.

Just as I was about to get off the bed to retrieve my phone, Damian stormed back in, his entire aura radiating an icy fury.

I used to love him. When this was all a "mission," I even wrote a little handbook on how to please him. I knew that when he was truly angry, he never showed it. Instead, his face would relax into a calm mask, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he subtly clenched his jaw. That was when he was at his most dangerous. And then he would punish me, day or night, with a desperate, frantic passion, marking my skin with his scent and his teeth.

"Want to listen?" He held up my phone.

I was confused. "Listen to what?"

He smiled faintly and put it on speaker.

"Audrey, I'm just about to leave for your place." It was Alistair Finch, a professor from my department.

Damian walked silently towards me and sat on the edge of the bed.

Alistair's voice continued, oblivious. "So, you really went through with the divorce? It's all so sudden. I thought you and your husband were so happy together."

I opened my mouth to answer.

Damian tapped his own lips, his eyes fixed on mine. It was a terrible curse, to know your predator so intimately. His meaning was clear: if I said a word, he would kiss me into silence. I shot him a glare and stayed quiet.

Alistair rambled on, expressing his sympathy, saying how a wonderful person like me deserved better.

I whispered to Damian, "What's the problem? He's just a colleague being supportive."

He mouthed one word back: "Vulture."

Heh. For a monster, he was surprisingly well-versed in human social dynamics. The man was being perfectly normal.

I finally spoke up. "Thank you for your concern, Professor Finch. I'm fine. I'm not one to dwell on things—"

Before I could finish, Alistair cut in. "In that case… would it be alright if I pursued you?"

Damian raised an eyebrow.

I froze.

"Audrey, you're an extraordinary woman. It was inevitable that I'd be drawn to you. Please, don't feel pressured. I just wanted you to know that there's someone else in the world who secretly admires you."

My face was a rigid mask.

Alistair sighed with relief. "You and your husband were so close before. I thought I’d never have the chance to say this. I’m glad—"

Damian's calm gaze never left mine, but across the room, an antique vase on the bookshelf suddenly exploded. I knew it was him. But he just looked at it with wide, innocent eyes and said, "Must be old." Then, turning his attention back to the phone, he spoke directly to Alistair. "We're still very happy together."

Hearing the crash, the professor grew concerned. "Audrey? I'm coming over."

A look of grim satisfaction crossed Damian's face. He glanced at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Please do."

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