Page 97 of Poison Aches

“How about a red velvet cake?” Kim suggests cheekily.

“She doesn’t like the taste of that one,” Astraea chimes in, watching me from the corner of her eye. “Try a strawberry cheesecake.”

They discuss all the fucking cake options and the pros of losing one’s virginity in calm, happy, and fucking clear tones as if it’s a simple matter while I’m about to fucking burst!

There’s no fucking way…

She thinks she’ll lose her virginity to some asshole… let alone one she just fucking met?

Yeah, we’ll see about that.

All these years, I’ve never shown my anger to anyone. I never engage in petty fights or disputes. I just ignored it all, but for some reason it’s taking a hell of an effort to stay calm and sane tonight.

King walks up to me and picks up his son, but his eyes are on me.

“Careful there,” he mutters sarcastically. “The invincible, almost indestructible dam looks like it might collapse.”

“Is it?” I mutter, holding his gaze.

“It sure looks that way… and when that happens, the world will finally see who you really are.”

That should shake me, but I hold his cold stare unflinchingly.

“Your recent affairs, how have they been going, Emmett?” The question seems innocent, casual, as if he’s asking about the weather.

I stare at him. He stares right back.

“Very insightful.”

“And George?” King questions. “Where is he?”

“Why are you asking me? He is, after all, your wife’s twin brother.”

“But he’s your partner in war,” King states simply, pointing out what I already knew he’s aware of. “Isn’t it?”

“You should know more about that than I should,” I answer just as simply. “Isn’t it?”

I smirk, seeing the anger in King’s eyes. But I can’t help it.

“The beauty of the inevitable, King,” I mutter mostly to myself than to him. “Is that no one can escape.”

It’s time to wrap up this mess.

CHAPTER 13

Ivy

Later, with baby Knight back in my arms—because holding babies is one of the best forms of therapy—I’m standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, pointing at random things outside for Knight.

He starts wiggling in my arms. Before I can evade it, his chubby fist whacks my temple, right over the hidden, bumpy scar.

I can’t help but cry out.

“Ivy! Are you okay?”

Blinding pain blurs my vision for a few seconds.

“Take him, please,” I beg whoever is closest.

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