Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 78: Nowhere to Run

Chapter 78: Nowhere to Run

- Kathrine Andrews: (Song of the Chapter: Obsession by Mellina Tey)

"Just drive to this a dress." She spoke.

The storm had settled into something quieter—less thunder, more rain. It drummed against the windshield in a steady rhythm, muffling the silence in the car. Glyndon hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even reached for the door handle, despite me unlocking it for her.

She should’ve left.

I gave her the option.

And yet, she stayed.

The tension between us stretched, thick and suffocating, filling every inch of the small space. The air was damp, the scent of rain and cold clinging to our clothes. Glyndon’s hair was still wet, strands sticking to her face and neck, droplets of water trailing down the sharp line of her jaw.

She was tense—shoulders stiff, fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt like she was trying to ground herself. Like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be here.

But she was still here.

I smirked. "You wanna go to a Hotel?"

Glyndon jolted slightly, her head snapping toward me. She hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yeah."

I hummed, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. "Expensive taste."

She stayed quiet, staring straight ahead like if she looked at me for too long, she’d get trapped. Like she’d fall into something she couldn’t escape.

I let the silence stretch.

Let her sit in it.

Let her think about how easily she could leave—but didn’t.

Finally, she exhaled, pressing her lips into a tight line. "Are we going or not?"

I turned my head, studying her for a long moment. Then, without a word, I shifted the car into drive and pulled onto the main street.

The city was eerily empty. Streetlights cast dim, flickering glows against the wet pavement, their reflections stretching in every direction. The occasional car passed by, headlights cutting through the rain, but for the most part, it was just us.

Alone.

Trapped together in the quiet hum of the engine and the downpour outside.

I could feel Glyndon’s mind racing beside me, the way her fingers twitched slightly in her lap, the way she chewed the inside of her cheek. She was thinking—processing.

Trying to make sense of what just happened.

Trying to make sense of me.

I smirked. "You want to ask."

She tensed. "Ask what?"

I kept my eyes on the road. "Why I was following you."

She swallowed. "I don’t care."

A slow, amused breath left my lips. "Liar."

Her shoulders stiffened. "It doesn’t matter."

I turned my head slightly, just enough to see the way her jaw clenched, the way her lips pressed tightly together.

"It does," I murmured.

She exhaled sharply, glaring out the window.

I didn’t push further.

I didn’t have to.

She was already tangled up in me. Already spiraling in her thoughts, trying to convince herself that what happened tonight didn’t shake her. That I didn’t shake her.

But I did.

And we both knew it.

The rest of the drive was silent.

The hotel she’d picked was expensive—high-rise, modern, the kind of place with a lobby that reeked of wealth. Golden lighting illuminated the entrance, the large glass doors reflecting the rain-soaked streets outside.

I pulled up to the curb, shifting into the park before turning toward her.

"Are you gonna run?" I asked, my voice laced with amusement.

Glyndon hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly in her lap. "Should I?"

I tilted my head. "If you were really scared, you wouldn’t be here."

She swallowed.

I stepped out of the car, rain immediately soaking through my clothes, cold seeping into my skin. I didn’t rush to the entrance. Instead, I walked around the car, opening her door for her.

She stared up at me, lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Half a second.

That’s how long she hesitated.

Then, she stepped out.

The rain poured down on us, relentlessly, soaking through our clothes, and dripping down our faces. Neither of us moved.

She looked at me.

I looked at her.

She should’ve gone inside.

She should’ve turned away, walked through those glass doors, and left me standing in the rain like I was nothing.

But she didn’t.

She stood there, shivering slightly, raindrops trailing down her skin, her lips parted like she was about to say something but couldn’t bring herself to.

I smirked. "Go inside before you catch a cold."

" You coming with me." That was a statement. Glyndon sucked in a sharp breath, then turned on her heel, storming toward the entrance.

I followed.

The hotel lobby was warm and bright, filled with soft chatter and the occasional sound of luggage wheels rolling across the marble floors. A concierge greeted us, offering Glyndon a polite smile as she handed over her card.

I didn’t say anything, because this is rich people things. Maybe she owns this Hotel or her dad does.

I just stood behind her, watching the way she shifted uncomfortably under the weight of my gaze.

Once she had the keycard, she turned to me, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you coming up or not?"

I arched a brow. "Is that an invitation?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I’m not leaving you down here."

I smirked. "Afraid I’ll run off?"

Her jaw clenched. "Afraid you’ll stalk me if I don’t."

She had a point.

Without another word, I followed her to the elevator.

The doors slid shut behind us, trapping us in a small space with nothing but the hum of soft music and the faint scent of her perfume.

She pressed the button for the top floor.

Silence stretched between us.

I could feel her shifting beside me, arms crossed tightly over her chest like she was trying to create as much distance as possible.

I took a step closer.

She tensed.

I smirked. "Relax, princess. I don’t bite... Unless you ask."

She shot me a glare. "Don’t call me that."

I chuckled. "Would you prefer something else?"

She didn’t answer.

I reached out, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t move away.

"Why are you here?" she whispered.

I leaned in, my lips barely ghosting over her ear.

"You asked me to follow you, Remember?."

She wants to know why I actually followed her just like she asked instead of just leaving.

A shudder ran through her, and I felt her fists clench at her sides.

The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open.

She took a sharp step back, stepping into the hallway without another word.

I followed, watching as she unlocked the room and pushed the door open, her posture tense, movements stiff.

She walked in first.

I lingered in the doorway.

She turned to face me, arms still crossed over her chest, her eyes filled with something she didn’t want me to see.

Something dangerous.

Something addicting.

"You can sleep on the couch," she muttered.

I smirked. "Generous."

She rolled her eyes and turned away, heading toward the bathroom.

I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me.

She could tell herself this was a mistake.

That she should have run.

That she should have pushed me away the second she realized what I was.

But she didn’t.

And that was all the confirmation I needed.

The sound of the rain against the hotel window was steady now—softer than before, but still persistent. Glyndon had disappeared into the bathroom a while ago, the muffled sound of running water filling the quiet tension of the room.

I exhaled, running a hand through my damp hair before pulling my phone out of my pocket.

My fingers hovered over my dad’s contact for a second before I pressed the call.

It rang twice before he picked up.

"Kathrine." His voice was steady, and deep, like always. No trace of worry—he knew better than to doubt me.

"Hey, Dad." I shifted my weight, glancing at the city lights through the rain-streaked window. "Just calling to let you know I won’t be home tonight. I’m at a hotel."

A pause. Not long, but noticeable.

"Alone?"

I smirked. "With a friend."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"Male or female?"

I chuckled. "Female."

He exhaled like he had been expecting a different answer. "Storm’s bad?"

"Yeah. Would’ve been a mess to drive back."

"Smart decision." A beat of silence. Then, softer, "Stay safe."

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. "I will. Night, Dad."

"Night."

The line disconnected.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket just as the bathroom door opened.

Glyndon stepped out, steam curling around her from behind, strands of damp hair clinging to her face. She was wearing the hotel’s robe, tied loosely around her waist, her bare legs peeking out from underneath.

I leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, watching her as she rubbed at her hair with a towel.

"You called your dad?" she asked without looking up.

"Yeah."

She hesitated. "You told him you were with me?"

I smirked. "Why?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Just curious."

I pushed off the window, walking toward her. She tensed slightly, her grip tightening around the towel, but she didn’t move away.

Didn’t tell me to stop.

I reached out, plucking the towel from her hands. "You’re terrible at drying your hair."

She blinked, startled, as I lifted it over her head, fingers threading into the damp strands.

Her breath hitched.

I ignored it.

For now.

The towel was soft and warm from the bathroom heat. I moved it gently, rubbing small circles over her scalp, feeling the way she stiffened under my touch before slowly—slowly—relaxing.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

She wasn’t stopping me.

I took my time. Ran my fingers through her hair, twisting the towel carefully, soaking up the excess water. She smelled like the hotel soap—fresh, clean, something faintly floral beneath it.

She let out a slow breath, tilting her head slightly into my touch before she caught herself, snapping her eyes open.

I smirked.

Her cheeks were flushed. "I can do it myself."

I didn’t move away.

Didn’t stop.

Just kept drying her hair, watching the way her lips parted, the way her lashes trembled slightly, like she was caught between pushing me away and pulling me closer.

"You let me do it," I murmured.

She swallowed. "I—"

I dropped the towel.

Her breath hitched.

My fingers slid into her hair, just barely touching her scalp.

Her pulse fluttered in her throat.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t do anything but stand there as I leaned in, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear.

"You’re not running," I whispered.

Her hands clenched into the robe. "I—"

I tilted my head, pressing my forehead lightly against hers.

Her breath came out shaky.

"You should be running," I murmured.

She licked her lips. "I—"

I didn’t let her finish.

Didn’t let her second-guess herself.

I kissed her.

Soft at first. Barely a brush of lips, just enough to feel the warmth of her, the tension trembling between us.

She didn’t pull away.

So I kissed her again.

Slower this time.

Deeper.

She let out a soft, broken breath—somewhere between resistance and surrender.

Then, finally, she kissed me back.

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