Page 99 of Poison Aches

I’ve made a spectacle of myself tonight, at my owngood-luckparty or whatever excuse Astraea used to gather us all around again, so I laugh it off and make a joke about how strong the King gene is.

Everyone laughs and it’s all forgotten, except Emmett is still looking at me and my brother is still glaring at him.

Because this scar…

I look away and make my way to the large, beautiful lounge room with the infinity fireplace, looking as blasé as ever.

I mean, if the god of Westbrook Blues can look impassive and cold all the time, why can’t I?

No one else in this room—apart from my brother—knows how exactly Emmett and I met and I’d like to keep it that way.

While I try to be genuine when I interact with Emmett, I get the sense that he pretends to be civil with me.

There is a deep-seated hatred that neither of us ever addresses and the scar on my temple serves as the beginning and end of that hatred.

The first time we ever met, I almost killed him. Literally.

And something in turn happened to me, that involuntarily guaranteed my silence.

I never dared to open my mouth, simply because that encounter was gone from my memories, and sometimes, I wish that were still the case…

Now every time Emmett looks at me, I see him searching for those memories.

He watches me as if he’s waiting to see if my mind is now intact and because I’m fully aware of what he’s looking for, and know I CANNOT under any circumstances show I have what he wants, I pretend to be clueless—because as long as he still wants something from me, he’ll always look at me.

And when his eyes are on me, I feel it; the pull that I’ve only ever felt with him. The one that makes me feel alive.

God, can I be any more pathetic?

“I need a drink,” I mumble under my breath.

Out of nowhere, a perfectly manicured hand pops up in front of me with a goblet of red wine filled almost to the brink. I look up and see Kim’s discerning eyes on me.

“Drink this for the both of us.”

Seeing the look she’s giving me, I want to burst into tears…again… but I’ll never do that.

I’ll stand firm on what I said tonight, so like a badass bandit, I accept the wine and chug half of it down.

“This one’s for me,” I gasp then chug the rest of it down. “And this one’s for your delusional denial.” I tip the empty glass her way.

Kim smirks at me. “I always knew you’ve got an edge. I can’t wait to see who you really are, Ivy Marie.”

“You and me both, babe.”

I catch my brother’s eye from across the room.

He raises an eyebrow at me. My stomach twists and knots up, so I look away but not before I see him snort in disgust.

I get the message, though.

Get it together.

I go to sit down on the couch and look around the room.

There’s laughter, a kind of warm harmony that exists among friends that have been together for so many years, been through so much and made it out alive.

But there’s still an elephant in the room in the size and sculptured form of a god.

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