Page 43 of Sweet Poison

Madden suddenly frowns, looking angry. “I’m aware. I’m here to learn. If there’s any issue with my presence, I’ll be happy to leave.”

I gulp, sensing the tension in the air. “There’s no issue,” I sign, but he raises his hand, stopping me.

“Use your words, Wild One.”

Anger and embarrassment twist in my belly. My cheeks heat up as I wrestle with the frustration of him asking me to speak, when he knows why I prefer not to. Staring up at him; he raises an eyebrow, challenging me. But before I have the chance to stand up for myself, Ethan steps in.

“Alright, Mr. Hunt,” he says through gritted teeth. “We’ll brief you on what we’re doing and how you can assist. But please, keep in mind that our primary focus is research.”

Madden gives a curt nod, his attention still fixed on me. “Understood.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart, but it is futile; It’s beating a mile a minute. My fingers absently trace the puka shell necklace Ethan gifted me just moments before. Noticing the movement, Madden’s eyes drop from my face to the necklace, and I don’t miss the sudden change in his expression. His previously unreadable gaze darkens and the curiosity that was there before fades giving way to something colder, more menacing. His jaw tightens, and his black eyes narrow, looking at the necklace as if the object offended him.

The air seems to thicken around us even more than before. The change is so abrupt and stark that it almost feels like the temperature in the tent has dropped.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Hunt?” Ethan’s voice cuts through the thickening tension, and I can see him casting wary glances between Madden and me.

Instead of turning towards Ethan, Madden’s gaze remains locked on the necklace around my neck. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his silence heavy and quite frankly scary. Finally, he looks up, his eyes meeting mine with a cold, hard edge. “No problem at all.”

Madden

I didsomething idiotic and quite frankly beneath me. What the fuck was I thinking when I decided to crash the nerds’ research? No bullshit, I know what happened. I wasn't thinking.

I was fucking jealous and that shit clouded my judgment.

And now half an hour later I find myself with four nerds and a blushing fairy inside a chopper as we soar towards the amazon rainforest.

I ended up stuck next to an overly chatty woman who could probably bore me to death with her never-ending lecture on fungus. She’s babbling about the various fungal species she’s excited to find, and some detailed biochemical processes that are frankly beyond my interest and understanding. Why does this woman’s science talk feels like slow torture, while I used to find it endearing when Willow did it?

Chatty’s voice is a steady drone in my ear, though I barely register her words.

My attention, however, is fixated on Willow, who sits across the aisle and a row ahead of me. She’s next to the ugly vestasshole, who is looking at her as if she hangs the moon and stars in his sky. Pathetic.

The sight of her, the way she interacts with him, the subtle smiles they exchange—it’s all grating on my fucking nerves.

From where I sit, I can see the fucker’s arm brush against Willow’s as he hands her some folders. She smiles prettily at him and signs the words “thank you”. My top lip curls as I watch them together and I start feeling hot all of a sudden. My blood is fucking boiling.

But then it hits me. She only uses her voice when she’s around people she trusts and feels comfortable with. So… this fucker with his corny gifts and cringe as fuck smiles is not one she feels comfortable enough to share her voice with.

Good.

That’s good.

The way he’s looking at her— with those eyes full of affection and unspoken feelings—makes my skin crawl. For fuck’s sake, it’s like watching a bad romance movie starring a beautiful princess and downright ugly frog.

Feeling beyond annoyed and fed up with the noise around me, I try to drown out Maya—aka Chatty’s— incessant chatter by staring out the window. Not even my god-awful personality can negate how beautiful this country is. I find little to no beauty in most things, but the view outside the window could take my breath away if I let it. The amount of green below is mesmerizing. There’s a whole lot of yellow too. The color reminds me of the scene I witnessed earlier. The fucker gifting a hideous yellow necklace that looked more like a collection of worn shells than anything remotely desirable yet it made her smile as if he had gifted all the diamonds in the world. Then there was the way he looked at her while giving it to her, like he was presenting her something precious—it sent a sharp, uncomfortable pang through my chest.

Again… what the fuck is this feeling?

I don’t care for it.

Maya is still talking, her voice rising in excitement as she describes some ecological bullshit of certain mushroom species. I don’t acknowledge her as I turn away from the window and catch glimpses of Willow’s profile as she talks to the fucker about their plans for when we land. There’s an ease between them, a familiarity that is irritating the hell out of me.

While I sit here ignoring the chatterbox next to me, I daydream about how I might get away with murdering that flirty fuck, Ethan but then my genius thoughts are interrupted by the slight jolt of the helicopter as it adjusts its altitude. The movement made Maya nervous enough to stop talking. Thank fuck for small miracles.

Casting a long glance at Willow, I notice she’s perfectly still and doesn't seem the least bit nervous or bothered by the helicopter jolting. The more I stare at her, the more everything and everyone else fades into the background. Her wild curls are, well, wild, and her eyes are hyper focused on a map spread out in front of her. I can’t help but wonder what she sees in the idiot next to her that’s trying way too hard to get her attention. I wonder why she smiles so easily around him, and while she can’t even look at me without turning red.

The thoughts gnaw at me, and I force myself to look away from her, not wanting to deal with what any of this means. Feelings are uncharted territory for me, and they always have been. Shit, for so long, I’ve trained myself not to feel anything, but here I am, unable to untangle the mess of emotions swirling in my head whenever I look at her.

---