Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 67: Sleep Over

Chapter 67: Sleep Over

-Glyndon Walton: ( Song of the Chapter: Heaven and Back by Chase Atlantic)

The sound of the shower shutting off echoed through the quiet room.

I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around myself as I wiped the condensation off the mirror. My mind still spun with the weirdness of today—Alex acting strange, Kathrine’s smug smirk, the way everyone had stared when Alex just gave up.

Nothing made sense.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, exhaling. Then I noticed something odd.

My door.

It wasn’t how I left it.

A small shift, just barely open.

I knew for a fact I closed it before I got in the shower.

A flicker of unease curled in my stomach.

I pushed the door open slowly, stepping into the dim light of my bedroom. My gaze moved across the room, scanning every corner—

Until it landed on my bed.

And the person sleeping in it.

I nearly screamed.

There was a lump under my blankets, someone lying there like they owned the place.

Then I spotted the familiar boots on my floor.

I let out a breath. Of course.

"Kathrine."

No response.

I walked closer, arms crossed. She looked dead asleep. Like she hadn’t just broken into my house and climbed into my bed uninvited.

I sighed, nudging her with my hand. "Kathrine."

A groggy noise came from beneath the blanket, but she didn’t move.

I nudged her again. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She finally cracked one eye open, voice muffled. "Sleeping."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I can see that. On my bed."

She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. "Shut up, Glyndon. I’m tired."

I huffed. I should kick her out. But something was off.

She wasn’t throwing cocky comments at me. She wasn’t grinning like she had some kind of plan.

She was... quiet.

Too quiet.

Her hands, barely visible from beneath the blanket, were curled into tight fists.

I frowned. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she muttered.

I sat on the edge of the bed, studying her.

She didn’t look like anything happened.

She looked angry.

She looked like she was about to explode.

"Kathrine," I pressed.

She stayed silent.

I waited.

Then, finally, she exhaled sharply and muttered, "Malakai is an idiot."

I blinked. "Your older brother?"

She nodded, turning onto her side, away from me.

I tilted my head. "What’d he do to make you sad like this?"

Silence. And more of it.

She didn’t answer.

Which meant it was bad.

I poked her side. "Kathrine—"

"I don’t want to talk about it."

I frowned.

That was rare.

Kathrine always had something to say. Always.

I didn’t push her. Instead, I leaned back, letting the silence settle.

Her body was tense like she was trying not to break something.

Or someone.

She clenched the blanket tighter in her hands.

I hesitated.

"If you need to punch something, I have pillows," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

She scoffed but didn’t laugh.

Instead, she turned her head slightly, eyes distant.

I wasn’t sure if she was thinking or just trying not to think.

Either way, I didn’t ask again.

She’d tell me when she was ready...Hopefully.

I barely had time to react before Kathrine moved.

One second, she was lying still. The next, she shifted, climbing over me until she was above me, one knee pressing into the mattress beside my hip.

I blinked, caught between annoyance and confusion.

She leaned down, her dark hair falling around us like a curtain, shadowing her face. "Roll over."

I frowned. "What?"

She smirked, but there was something off about it—something sharp. "You heard me."

I huffed but turned onto my side, facing away from her. "This better be good, Kathrine."

She didn’t answer.

Instead, I felt her fingers skim over the curve of my hip before gliding lower, pressing lightly against the bruises along the back of my thigh.

I sucked in a breath.

She hummed in satisfaction. "Still sore?"

I scowled over my shoulder. "You’re such a freak."

She ignored that, trailing her fingers over another dark mark, applying just enough pressure to make me flinch.

Then she asked, "What did Alex think of these?"

I stiffened.

My scowl deepened. "He hasn’t seen them."

Kathrine paused.

Then she laughed.

It was sharp like she had just confirmed something.

I turned onto my back, pushing up onto my elbows. "What’s so funny?"

Her smirk widened. "Nothing."

Liar.

I stared at her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in that head of hers.

She wasn’t just playing around.

There was something else to this.

I glared up at her, my breath uneven, my body betraying me in ways I hated.

I’m craving her touch, her voice, her body, every part of her.

I can’t stop, she did this to me.

Kathrine had me pinned. Not just physically, but in every way that mattered.

She has me like a ring around her finger, a ring which she can whatever she wants to.

She was straddling me, her weight pressing me into the mattress, her fingers resting just above my bruised hips—fingertips light, teasing like she was claiming me.

And I let her.

That was the worst part.

She could always do this. Always crawl under my skin, make me forget who I was supposed to be.

Her touch trailed lower, stopping at the bruises Alex hadn’t seen.

Kathrine hummed in satisfaction. "What do you think he’d say if he saw these?"

A shiver ran up my spine.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to answer.

Because I knew what Alex would say.

He’d demand to know who did this to me. He’d ask why I didn’t tell him. He’d say he loved me—like that was supposed to mean something like I was supposed to belong to him.

But I didn’t.

I belonged to this. To the tension crackling between Kathrine and me, to the way she touched me like she had every right to.

Like she already owned me.

Her nails dug in slightly. Just enough to make me suck in a sharp breath.

Her smirk widened. "You’re still going to marry him?"

I forced my expression blank. "Yes."

Something flickered in her eyes. Something dark.

Then she laughed, low and sharp.

"Of course you are."

Kathrine’s hand slid up, fingers brushing the side of my throat, lingering there. My pulse jumped beneath her touch.

I hated that she could feel it.

She leaned in, lips ghosting over my ear. "You’re such a liar."

I turned my head sharply, refusing to let her see whatever was in my eyes.

She didn’t push.

She didn’t need to.

Because she already knew.

——-

-Kathrine Andrews:

The morning sun barely filtered through the curtains when I stirred awake. My body was sluggish, weighed down by the remnants of sleep, but my mind was already alert.

Glyndon was still deep in slumber beside me, face half-buried in the pillow, dark hair sprawled messily.

I sat up, stretching my limbs before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I rolled my shoulders, shaking off the stiffness, and then got up without a sound. The bathroom was my first destination.

The cool water washed away the last traces of sleep as I splashed it over my face. My reflection stared back at me in the mirror—disheveled hair, faint creases on my cheek from Glyndon’s pillow. I sighed and raked a hand through my long locks before turning away.

My clothes from yesterday were still wearable, but I wasn’t about to stay in them all day. That’s when I remembered Gyndon probably has many spare school uniforms.

I found the extra set in Glyndon’s walk-in closet—a standard skirt and blouse. I pulled them on, leaving the first few buttons of the blouse undone for comfort.

The skirt sat a little too tight on my thick legs, but it would do. Over it, I threw on my jacket from yesterday, pushing my hands into the pockets as I turned back toward the bed.

Glyndon was awake now, watching me with groggy amusement. "You’re stealing my clothes?" Her voice was thick with sleep.

I smirked, walking over to the bed. "Borrowing. I’ll bring them back... eventually."

Glyndon hummed in response but didn’t protest. She just stretched, eyes flicking over me in an unreadable way before she sat up.

A comfortable silence settled between us as Glyndon got up to wash up, and I wandered around the room, pretending not to notice how Glyndon’s gaze lingered on me before disappearing into the bathroom.

By the time we made our way downstairs, the house was mostly quiet. But waiting near the door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, was Alex.

He was staring at his phone, seemingly lost in thought—until he looked up.

The moment his eyes landed on me, he froze.

His entire posture locked up, and for a split second, his face twisted with something unreadable before it smoothed over into blankness.

I smirked. "What? Didn’t expect to see me here?" my voice was taunting, laced with amusement.

Alex didn’t answer. His grip on his phone tightened, jaw twitching slightly.

I let the silence stretch, enjoying the way his eyes darted between Glyndon and I. Then, without another word, I turned, striding past him toward the door.

"See you around, Glyndon," I called over my shoulder.

With that, I stepped outside, made my way to my motorcycle, and kicked the engine to life. As I sped off, I didn’t need to look back to know Alex was still standing there, watching me with barely concealed tension.