Page 8 of Poison Ivy
“Or they want me dead,” I mutter.
“If they wanted you dead, they’d just kill you,” he points out pragmatically. “This is an opportunity, Ivy. Think about it - if you pull this off, you’ll be untouchable.”
I consider his words. He’s not wrong. Successfully infiltrating and taking down the head of a majorvampire coven would cement my reputation as the top assassin in the supernatural world. But the risks...
“Fuck,” I mutter, flopping back on the bed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not really,” Ramsey says sympathetically. “But look at it this way - you’ve got a month to figure out how to do this, and Torin and his crew won’t be that hard to get in with. They literally live over the road.”
I snort. “Yeah, really easy to just stroll up to them and say, ‘hey, where’s your dad, Torin, so that I can kill him?’”
“Okay, maybe that approach isn’t the best one.”
Shooting him a look that could wither a houseplant, I growl, “You don’t say?”
He holds his hands up. “I am your Handler. I will be here every step of the way in a professional capacity, but as your bestie, I’m advising caution. Think before you do something crazy.”
“Think. Got it.”
“Get some rest, Ives. Start thinking tomorrow.” He leaves my room, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Easy for you to say,” I mumble as I climb into bed and pull the covers over my head, my tea forgotten. This night sucks. But there is no getting away from this assignment. I have no choice, so I have to figure out a way to approach this that won’t get me killed.
Easy peasey.
5
BRAM
“You’re being a fucking idiot,”Tate says, lounging on the couch and flipping through some ancient grimoire.
I ignore him, brooding heavily on the overstuffed armchair in the window of the living room as I try to figure out how to track down Poison. There has to be a way. No one is truly untraceable.
“Did you hear me?” Tate asks, not looking up from his book. “I said you’re being a fucking idiot.”
“I heard you the first time,” I snap. “I just don’t give a shit what you think.”
He sighs dramatically and closes the book. “Look, I get it. She’s hot. The sex is mind-blowing. But she works for the Syndicate. You really want to piss them off over a tight pussy?”
I straighten up, my fae magick crackling dangerously. “She’s more than just a tight pussy.”
Tate raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what exactly is she then?”
I open my mouth, then close it. What is Poison to me? An obsession, fuck, yeah. I can’t stop thinking about her. A challenge. A mystery I’m desperate to unravel. But beyond that...
“Exactly,” Tate says, interpreting my silence. “You don’t even know her. She could be anyone. Hell, she probably doesn’t even exist. If she’s a shifter, she could be any-fucking-one.”
“I’ll find out,” I growl.
“And then what? You going to keep her chained up as your personal fuck toy?” Tate scoffs. “Get real, man. She’d slit your throat the first chance she got.”
I clench my fists, dark fae magick swirling around them. “You don’t know that. Maybe she feels it too.”
Tate barks out a harsh laugh. “Feels what? Your cock? Yeah, I’m sure she does, every time we rail her in some dirty alley. But beyond that? You’re delusional.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl, standing up abruptly. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know you’re going to get yourself killed if you keep obsessing over her,” Tate says, his tone serious now. “Let it go, Bram. She’s not worth it.”
