Page 41 of Poisoning Ivy
My father was to meet us late this time, so I slipped away the first night after my mother drank herself to sleep and Uncle Vitoli tucked her away in bed.
As I make my way down the mountain, my stomach filling with delirious excitement at the thought of seeing them again, I wonder whether they'll still want me. My heart yearns for this time with them the way it always has, but my head spins with ideas of them having moved on, having gotten over me. After all, I came late this year.
Killian's cabin is dark, a single light on in a back window. His truck isn't there, and neither is his father's jeep, but clearly someone is home.
I steel my nerves as I turn into his drive, my shoes crunching over the loose rocks that have skittered into the path, glancing around for any sign of anyone. But there's no one around, no one to stop me as I make my way to the back of the cabin, the window that looks into the room with only a single lamplight illuminating the space. I know it to be Killian's room, and at first, my stomach plummets at the sight of someone who’s not Killian in his bed. A swell of vomit works its way up my stomach as I imagine another woman in the spot I want to be.
Something entices me to look closer, so I rise to the tips of my toes, my hands on the ledge of his window, and find myself looking right at Monty, who sits up, bewildered.
At first, he must think I'm a ghost or something, because he stares at me like I'm something from another planet.
When he slips out of the bed, I consider running, my nerves twisting my stomach into a pretzel as he opens the window. It squeaks, causing the other body in the bed to roll over, and my eyes flick to him as the light casts just the right shadows on his face for me to see Theo, beautiful as ever. His peacefulface betrays nothing of the wicked and wonderful man beneath it, and with his curly hair spread out around his head, he looks deceptively angelic.
"Ivy," Monty whispers, too surprised at the sight of me to resort to his usual nickname.
I open my mouth, but I don't know what to say to him.Sorry I'm late?That seems ridiculous, given that we never established an exact meeting time. They just always found me in the way that they have, like we're all magnetized somehow to one another.
There's no need for words, apparently, because Monty doesn't let me speak. He slips a hand around the back of my head and guides my mouth to his so that he can kiss me, soft and slow and deep. He awakens a hunger in me, a part of myself that I leave here in their care every time I have to leave, and I kiss him back, already feeling the stirrings within me as parts of me that have died this past year come back to life.
"Poison," he whispers as he pulls away, his sweet breath ghosting across my wet lips as he regards me like I’m something worth anything. "You came back."
"I'll always come back," I tell him, simultaneously hating the truth in my words and loving that I have a place to come back to--peopleto come back to.
"Come inside," he gestures me forward, stepping aside and putting out a hand for me to grab as I climb through with relative ease, since it's not the first time I did it.
"I didn't mean to wake you up." I say, my hand rising up to smooth down a patch of his hair that's sticking up. It’s silky under my fingers, and I hold it longer than necessary as I appraise him.
Though he’s the smallest of the Reapers, he’s still taller than me. And he seems to have put on more muscle—that, or I wastoo blitzed last summer to commit every facet of his body to memory. That’s a sin I’ll have to rectify.
"It's okay," he assures me, pulling me with him toward the bed. "Come on. Let me hold you."
I slip off my shoes and jean shorts, knowing there's a good chance I'm going to fall asleep between Monty and Theo, who looks softer than I've ever seen him. I don't want to disturb his peace because I can't get comfortable, so I ignore Monty's eyes darkening with desire and crawl onto the bed, careful not to get too close to Theo. But when I turn back to see Monty, he shakes his head and gestures for me to move away from the wall, into the center of the bed. I only hesitate for a second before I do it, settling next to Theo, who doesn't so much as flutter a sooty eyelash as my shaky exhale hits his face.
Monty crawls into the space beside me and drapes an arm over my middle, offering a rare comfort that has me easing into the mattress. The air smells like them, sweet and warm and outdoorsy, and it feels deceptively peaceful.
The fear nips at my stomach as I think already about when I'll have to leave, even though I just got here. Maybe coming this time was a mistake— something about it feels different than the summers before.
"Where's Killian?" I whisper, turning my head to take in Monty, who's lying on his side watching me with the slightest curve of his lips. His eyes are full of something I can’t even guess at the nature of, lit up by the gentle glow of the lamp behind me.
"Work. He'll be back in a few hours."
I nod, realizing I have no idea where Killian even works. "And his parents?"
Monty's lips part, and then fall closed. He licks them thoughtfully, and then sighs. "They're dead."
That wasn't the answer I expected, and it makes my heart beat faster as my head swirls with implications. "Did he do it?"
For a minute, Monty only stares at me like he isn't sure I just asked that. His lips twitch, trying to decide whether to laugh it off or chastise me.
"No, Poison," Monty chuckles, swiping a lock of my hair between his fingers and watching the light play over it, turning different strands into a flaming copper color. "They were shot on their vacation to Prague."
"Prague?" I say the word slowly as it rings in the back of my head. "Isn't that where..."
"Where they went last summer." Monty nods. "It's been over a year."
"Shit." I whisper, a quiet sort of sadness settling in me at the thought of his parents never coming home. Unlike me, Killian had decent parents. His mother had welcomed me into her house with a smile and sent me home with treats that never made it back up the mountain because I knew my mother would tell me they were too fattening. She cleaned my wound when I got bit by that snake, and she looked so sadly at me every time my own mother would stand on the porch and scream for me from the top of the road. Honestly, I don't know how they managed to raise a son like Killian, so... violent, sociopathic. I mean, he's a fucking murderer. Do people just take that up as a hobby for the hell of it? I thought usually killers just had a tragic backstory to compound their mental illness.
"They were good people." Monty sighs. "They adopted him when he was eight. His own mom left him at the police station, and when they tracked her down and told her it didn't work that way, she killed herself. He was in foster care for a bit, but he scared them all. Up until Irene and Scott," Monty smiles. "They took him in and never judged him for any of his quirks."
