Page 64 of Poisoning Ivy
The last time she left us, Killian told us not to worry, that she'd be back.She always comes back,he promised us. But it was years before that happened, years before his words could be proven. We could have hunted her down sooner, and we should have.
"It's up to Ivy," Killian licks his lips as he glances at her on the couch, passed out with Monty. "None of us are willing to let her go again?"
"We never should have the first time."
Killian grunts, but I can't tell if he's agreeing with me or showing his dissent. "I should have killed her parents that first time I met her. She was trying to run away from home... from them."
"You were thirteen," I roll my eyes, not willing to indulge his self-pity when I'm already drowning in my own. Because I know what she said was the truth, as much as I don't want it to be.And I understand Killian's point. If we'd killed her parents, who knows how much pain we could have spared her? But also, at such a young age, she'd have simply been passed to another family member and who's to say that wouldn't have been worse? If she'd ended up in the care of her uncle, it would have certainly harmed her more than helped.
"I just feel like we failed that last time. I believe her."
Killian nods. "I know. I wish we..." I watch a muscle in his jaw tick as he strains to control it. His knuckles flex, and I recognize the pain that needs an outlet. My gaze flicks to his taut stomach, the rivulets of blood trailing down to disappear behind the waistband of his pants.
He doesn't say what he wishes we had done as I drop to my knees in front of him, threading his fingers in mine, taking the pain and helping him hold it. "We can't change what we didn't do any more than we can change what we did."
My words are a whisper against his warm flesh, and I press my lips against the top of his abdomen, planting a light kiss there.
"I can't come again, Theo." He groans, his voice whisper-soft. I'm not sure if he's worried about waking the two on the couch or about admitting that he's tapped out for the night. But I know better.
"You can," I promise him. "And when your head is clear, maybe you can decide where we go from here... how we make it up to her?"
As our unofficial leader, I know he'll be the one to come up with a solution. He always is.
When my tongue darts out over the wounds he inflicted on himself, lapping up the blood that has stopped flowing, he shivers against me, fingertips flexing on my face as he frames it with his hands.
"I can try." He says, softer than he usually lets anyone see him get. I'm not even sure if he's talking about coming again orcoming up with a plan to earn Ivy's forgiveness, but I'm open to both as I wrap my fingers around the band of his shorts. He springs free when I tug them down, his cock ready despite the hesitation in his words.
"That's a start," I tell him, just before I take him into my mouth.
He groans as I move him to the back of my throat at my own pace, content to let me have this. I know by now that no matter who's on top or who's on their knees, Killian is in control. I relinquished it to him long ago, and while I occasionally play at pushing him, I always remember that when I think I am in control, it's at his mercy. We've never adopted a traditional BDSM approach. How could we when we've given ourselves to one another so irrevocably? The blood pact we made one another as children turned us from friends to brothers, but when the sex started and we pushed each other's limits, we sort of became parts of a whole. Sometimes I don't know where he ends and I begin, where Monty becomes Killian.
I know others demonize our relationship, not understanding what we have, but Ivy doesn't. She appreciates us all for the ways we're the same as much as for the ways we're unique. And it's hard to feel bad about it when it feels so good. It's how I feel about watching Killian kill. He doesn't do it much anymore, choosing to get his fix in other ways, but when he first started, I knew what I was witnessing was wrong. Helping him cover up the deaths, stage bodies, and hide them was always fucking wrong, but how could I feel bad about it when it fed a part of him that needed nourished just as the rest of him? I think I've loved him since he first moved here, but I've beenin lovewith him since I watched him kill my parents. Since that day, I've only fallen harder for him when he's fallen harder for Monty, for Ivy.
Our love feeds one another, just like our cruelty to Ivy always fed her. We gave her something she needed for so long, butnow that she's out from under the shadow of her parents, her husband, what could our life look like together?
Killian whimpers as I increase the suction, pulling him deeper before pushing him out, the blood on his cock that belongs to him, Ivy, maybe even Cody. It mixes deliciously with the dried cum from Ivy's last orgasm, the salty trail of pre-cum that leaks as I skate him across my tongue. I get the greatest satisfaction from watching him falter, from cracking his beautiful facade and seeing him transform with the need. I close my eyes and focus on shattering him.
I don't jump when I feel the bite of the blade against my collarbone, the snick as it bites into my flesh and draws blood to the surface. I moan at the surrender, the bliss at knowing he's left me with another of his marks, and as my throat closes around him, it pulls a groan from him too.
The flat of the blade drags behind my back, and I tense my fingers on his thighs in anticipation, taking him deeper as his breathing picks up with excitement.
"Fuck," he moans, the blade slicing against my other collarbone.
I hear the clatter as he drops it to the floor and grips me by the shoulders, his thumbs diving into the freshly procured wounds and sending a shock of pleasure chasing the pain straight to my dick.
I take him harder, deeper and faster, his release so close that I can taste it. I can feel him holding on by a thread, and I sever it as I grip his balls in my hand and squeeze.
The first jerk of his dick in my throat tastes like victory, and I can't help smirking up at him, waiting for him to acknowledge that I win.
But before he can, the gunshot rings out in my ear and hot blood splatters across my face.
Chapter thirty-five
Ivy
Cody looks like a zombie, back from the dead, when my eyes pop open. And for one wild, horrific moment, I think that's exactly what he is. But there's too much hatred in his eyes, and when my blurry vision focuses on the gun in his hand, I realize he's very much alive.
Monty throws me off of him in an instant, jumping to his feet to rush to the aid of his friends, but Cody turns the gun on him swiftly, making him freeze with his hands in the air.
