The Poisoner (The Poisoner #1)
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Read between July 18 - July 19, 2025
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I could not remember anything but those dead eyes,
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I wish I could say that I made that man suffer—that I put his hands in jars and severed the tongue from his mouth. Instead, I did something far worse.  I did nothing.
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Will you have just as delicious an expression when I catch you?
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My mood was just as grim as my attire.
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as men die every day—a cause for celebration.  
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The elusive creature’s beauty was like a witch must have carved her out from an ancient forest, haunted by spirits of old and harboring centuries of secrets.
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Her hair snaked in loose curls over her pale skin all the way past her hips, as if they were drawing a map for the places I wanted to touch.
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“I look forward to us, little shadow,” I whispered against her ear, tucking a bit of hair behind it before I allowed her one last night of rest. One more night before our games began.
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“Who are you?”
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“I am anything you want me to be.”
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“I’ll let you decide, one last illusion of autonomy before I devour you.” 
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Believe me when I say this woman gave me butterflies in my stomach. Though that might just be internal bleeding. Either way, she had charmed me.
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I had never been so intimate with death in my lifetime,
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“Do you by chance have anything for snake venom?”
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“You know, when a snake bites, it is usually because it gave you a fair warning to run.”
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I was almost jealous of the clothing clinging to his body, though I was most jealous of that scarf around his neck—which I would love to replace with my hands. 
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“How are you here?”
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“Why would I not be, darling?”
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“The venom.”
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“My entire body is made of poison.” He laughed. “Or maybe ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
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“I try to kill you, and you take it as flirtation?”
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Christ, I am beginning to think he’s less interested in killing me and more interested in courting me.
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I would have strung them with hair from my last grand gesture, but I thought using yours would do perfectly well, a more personal touch.  —Silas
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First rule of being a predator: do not get attached to food.
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“You are a fiend,”
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“Only for you.”
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He gasped against me as he moved his tongue, flexing it forward and curling to hit that forbidden spot that was not often found. 
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“Red looks good on you,”
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“especially when it is blood rushing to your face.”
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What will you do now that you’ve been caught on your own terms? You started it this time. You will have to forgive me for what I do next.
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hot breath
Mena and Books
Ew
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She smells like black cherries and cyanide.
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The more I observed him, the more I wanted to dissect him and get lost in the details. To open up his chest cavity and pull out all the parts,
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“What do you study anyway?”
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“The study of bones.
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“But you said I could have it all, and that is exactly what I will be taking.”
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“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
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“Unless you want me to break you.”
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“How does it feel?” He mocked my tone from earlier. “Describe it to me.”  “H-hot,” I stuttered. “I’m burning.”  “What else?” he murmured into my ear, forcing my hips down again. 
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“Uh-uh! You should know better than anyone how we ask for things.” He smirked. “I want to hear you beg.” 
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“Don’t look at me like that,” he said breathlessly, his skin glistening in the warmth. “I won’t be able to stop.”  I gave him a drunken smile, high from venom and lust. “Then don’t,”
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The warmest embrace from the coldest creature I knew was my only solace.
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Her lips tasted so sweet, so alive against mine. She had tasted like many things I would learn to love. It used to be the smell of cherries that I enjoyed the most, or the bitter almond taste that I soon learned was cyanide, or the pollen of formidable flowers of the day. Now, it was the taste of her name on my tongue or mine on hers.