Page 26 of Poisoning Ivy
"Yourname?" I gasp, realization slamming into me about as hard as the train would have.
"Of course, my name." He chuckles, the blade making one more smooth glide through skin before I feel him move away. "This moment belongs to me."
"But..." I gasp at the cool air as he blows gently over my skin, which feels like it's on fire. "I won!"
That gets a laugh even out of Monty, who's been quiet enough that I let myself believe maybe he didn't love what his best friend was doing to me. But when he presses a kiss against my bare hip, I know the truth. He's just as sick as the other two. How the fuck did these psychos find each other? And how the fuck did I get involved with them?
A hot tongue presses against my mutilated skin, making me shiver and sending something that feels deceptively like pleasure from deep inside me. Theo chuckles next to me, his breath on my forehead, still not letting me go as Killian laps at the cuts he made like a man who's found the last drop of dew in the desert.
When he pulls away, I hear the loud smack of his lips, followed quickly by the sound of a slap against my other bare ass cheek, setting that one ablaze too.
"Let this be a lesson, Ivy. You can play the game, but I will always win."
Theo and Monty follow some unspoken command to release me, and with a last kiss to my temple, Theo pulls away.
"You did so good, sweet, sweet poison." Monty praises, smoothing a hand over my cheek and chasing away the tears that fell earlier.
I don't scramble up as they move away, suddenly unable to make myself move. Half of me wants to collapse into the dirt and stay there. I don't think Killian cut deep enough for blood loss to be a concern, but if I stay here long enough without moving, then maybe death will find me one way or another. No doubt my blood will draw some other predators.
I hear the music when the car rumbles to life, all the way at the other end of the tunnel, but I don't bother getting up until after the sound recedes.
When I do stand, I ease my shorts as gently as I can over my ass, not appreciating the feeling of my jeans against my wet pussy.
And the worst part is, I don't know how much of it is my blood or how much of it is because some sick, twisted part of me was turned on by what they did.
Chapter sixteen
Ivy
Age Eighteen
I lay on my stomach in silence, the last of my tears still pooling at the tip of my nose. I don't have the energy to wipe it away. I don't have the energy for anything after the last two days. My body hurts—my legs from the hike back up the mountain, my ass from the blade, my cheek from the sting of my mother's hand whipping across my face. It's a better alternative to what would have happened if Uncle Vitoli had woken up to find me missing, but it doesn't make the pain any less or the humiliation any easier to bear. I suppose her thinking that I'm just an idiot who forgot that her period was starting is preferable to her ripping my shorts down to see the name carved on my ass, especially since they came home with friends who look like they'd very much have loved to see my ass on full display.
I haven't left my room since I got home yesterday morning, and other than the one time the doorknob jiggled like someone was trying to come in, no one has come to try and lure me out. I'll gladly wait until they're gone, though the hunger is hollowing my stomach. I haven't heard the crunch of the tires telling me that their guests have left yet, so I don't bother moving until I'mnearly asleep without even realizing it when a sudden sound at the window makes me jerk awake, my heartbeat doubling as I scramble to get up. Out the window, there's only darkness, no light on this side of the cabin to illuminate the view of the trees cascading down the mountain below. A little slip of moonlight illuminates things just enough to see the trees reaching out to me, branches swaying with a little breeze, enticing me to slip back outside.
Something hits the window and bounces off, making me jump to my feet this time, my heart in my throat. I didn't see what it was; it all happened so fast.
I'm nearly at the window when it happens again.
This time, I see it just as it hits the window, making a sound that seems loud enough to wake the whole house, just before it bounces off the glass.
A rock?
I keep just a little space between the window and myself as I draw up to it, bracing my hands against the sill so that I can peer out into the dark night. This time, after the rock hits the glass, I see the movement—a man. It's obvious by the silhouette of him, though the hood over his face casts any identifying features in shadow.
My throat goes dry, but I'm not stupid. I know it has to be one of them... maybe all of them. I lift my hand up and flip him the middle finger, refusing to let them try and fuck with my head anymore because they can't fuck with my body.
They've hated me for a while, and I've never understood it, but what Killian did last night? It's a step further than I thought he'd ever go, and I despise myself for falling into his trap.
As I step away from the window, I wish that I had curtains to pull to shut them out. Better yet, I wish I had a way to shut them out entirely, a way to get them out of my life—all of them. I tried running away the first time when I was a kid, which was thefirst time I met Killian. It had been after a particularly explosive fight, and at eight, I decided there had to be something better out there.
I didn't get far, climbing up the side of the rocky bluff behind the house when I put my hand in the wrong spot and got hit with an agonizing sting that had me screeching in a combination of the pain and terror. When I let go of the rock with my injured hand, my feet slipped out from under me, and tears pooled in my eyes.
In hindsight, I wasn't far off the ground, but the pain and fear had me ready to call out for my mother and face whatever consequences she'd dole out for getting my clothes dirty. I was just opening my mouth to do as much when I felt the body behind me, an arm wrapping around my legs, and I let go, trusting whoever it was to catch me.
He did, surprisingly, and then set me on the flat ground before him.
I didn't even get a chance to look at his face under all that dark black hair before he was grabbing my hand by the fingers to look at it, and I cringed in pain. Two little dots of blood welled up on the bony back of my hand, blood dripping in thin trails down my fingers, which were in the palm of a boy.
