Page 38 of Poisoning Ivy
"I do like it." I tell him, feeling the truth in my words as they fall from my tongue. "I want more of it."
Killian's smile is slow to spread, but it takes over his handsome face. "I can help with that."
He presses the gun to his temple and pulls the trigger without so much as flinching. His eyes never leave mine, and something tells me that when he hears the little gasp that slips out of the back of my throat, he knows exactly what he's doing to me.
"Shit." Monty says quietly, chuckling as he stretches his hand out. "Not loving my odds, here."
"You got something to live for?" Killian taunts him, the little smirk in the corner of his mouth full of devious intent. And yet, I feel like I'm also being left out of some sort of private joke.
Monty's eyes flick to mine. I'm not sure he even means to do it, but when he does, half of his soft lips pull up into a smile. But then he fixes Killian with a look so full of devotion, it takes me by surprise.
"A thing or two... or three." He shrugs as if it doesn't matter, then curls his fingers around the gun, licks his lips, and pulls the trigger with a laugh. I don't laugh this time, my throat threatening to close around the fear that's gripping me.
"What are the odds?" Theo chuckles, as Monty drags his hand through his hair and passes the gun back to Killian.
"Five in six." Killian laughs. "Not bad odds, really. Ready to go again, Bambi?"
"No." I shake my head automatically, all the captive excitement of the last five minutes waning at once.
If he holds that gun to my head again, it's a fifty/fifty chance that I get the bullet. And I don't want to die now that I'm finally living... with them.
"Don't be scared." Theo whispers, his husky voice sending chills down my spine as his fingers stroke over my collarbone. "You already cheated death once tonight."
Which is exactly why I can't try again.
I try to stand, to get out of this fucked up situation I got myself into, but there's no getting out of this. Theo's arm tightens around my neck just enough to lock me in place as I slip off the couch, trying to duck out from under his arm.
"Hey, hey," Monty soothes, dropping down next to me and placing a gentle hand on my thigh. "Calm down. There's nothing to be scared of."
His grip on my thigh, so close to the hem of my shorts, proves otherwise as it tightens on me in an almost bruising grip, pinning my other one to the ground so that I'm spread out in butterfly and trapped in place as Killian drops onto my lap, his breath ghosting against my lips. I don't dare move, hostage to the feelings swirling through me and the glorious effect the cocktail is having on my body, which feels like I'm standing with one foot over the edge of a cliff that looks into nothing below.
Chapter twenty-one
Ivy
Age Twenty
The barrel of the gun is cold against my heated skin as Killian sets it flush against my cheek. Without taking my eyes off of the puppet master in front of me, I can see it in my peripheral vision, and my heartbeat escalates enough that I don't doubt they can hear every squeeze.
"Killian..." I say quietly, my voice faltering before any other words can make it out. I hadn't planned any, anyway.
"Open that pretty mouth, Ivy, and let's find out what fate awaits you."
The fact that he called me by name— something he rarely does— isn't lost on me even in spite of the flurry of terror twisting my insides. I hadn't even noticed I've been clenching my jaw so tightly that it aches. I have to make a conscious effort to relax.
"No, I don't want to—"
Monty's head drops as mine is yanked back, Theo's fingers drumming against my exposed throat as I blink up at him through the tears beading in my eyes. I hate this fear, but I can't just get rid of it.
"Silly little doe." Killian says, rubbing the muzzle against my lips, which I'm desperately trying to keep closed. But they outplay me.
The sudden tug of my shorts and panties being pulled down my legs shocks me enough that I open my mouth to plead with Monty to stop and Killian shoves the barrel in so far that it makes me gag, the taste of metal intensifying the need to vomit.
"There you go," Theo croons, his touch on my throat turning soothing as he rubs little circles there. "You've got this, Tiger Lily."
"Through the nose." Monty says, but his voice sounds far away, and I think I may be dying already, suffocating around the object in my throat.
Killian pushes the gun deeper, until I feel his knuckles brushing my lips and the barrel feels like it's going to tickle my tonsils. I gag again, my entire body tensing in preparation for the wave of vomit that never comes because Killian relents at the last second, and the gun retreats, letting me bounce forward just enough to avoid choking on the contents of my stomach.
