10. Bram

10

brAM

Ditching lectures today is the least of my worries after the fucked-up shit that went on last night. Pushing open the door to the townhouse, I go straight to my room and strip off, hitting the shower, turning it up to scorching levels. I reek of blood, sweat, and sex. Poison's cum is still all over my dick, and it's distracting me. I need to clean up so that I can focus on the wild raspberry signature that is hers. I need to set up a tracker so that I can find her without the other guys. So far, we've been lucky in being in the same place as her at the same time. In the last six weeks, we've come across her only four times. Trying to track the Syndicate's movements across targets is virtually impossible, even for Tate. But now it's time to step up the game, and my mysterious meeting last night might be helpful. Although, I still haven't got a fucking clue who these arseholes really are, I know they are dark, and they are powerful enough to have offered me something I desperately want: a way into the world of contract killings.

They aren't the Syndicate, not a fucking chance about that, but this is the quickest way to finding out who Poison is and to them offering me more power than I know what to do with. It's a way to split from my family and have enough mojo that I won't be drawn back in by them. I don't want the court life. I never have. It's my worst fucking nightmare. I like Earth. I enjoy being here. I'm a rarity, although not the only fae up here doing my thing, there aren't many of us.

It makes me stand out, but clearly not enough to warrant Poison to come and find me. So, I will have to find her.

Thinking of those luscious red lips, those sapphire blue eyes and that pussy that could make a grown man weep, my cock goes hard, and I growl. I want her for more than a few minutes, and not even Torin is going to stop me next time from claiming her totally, body and soul. Gripping my dick, needing a release, I close my eyes and think about Poison. I think about all the ways I could fuck her until she begs me for mercy.

I stroke myself hard and fast, imagining Poison's tight, wet cunt sheathing me. In my mind, I've got her pinned to the bed, her legs wrapped around my waist as I pound into her mercilessly. She's moaning and crying out, begging me for more .

"Fuck, Poison," I growl, my hand moving faster over my rock-hard shaft.

I picture her perfect tits bouncing as I thrust, her head thrown back in ecstasy. I want to mark that pale skin, leave bruises and bites all over her so everyone knows she's mine.

The fantasy shifts, and now she's on her knees before me, those plump lips wrapped around my cock as she takes me deep in her throat. I fist my hand in her hair, fucking her face roughly.

"That's it, take it all," I snarl.

My orgasm builds quickly as I imagine shooting my load down her throat, making her swallow every drop. With a guttural groan, I come hard, shooting a stream of cum over my hand and onto the shower floor.

Panting, I lean my forehead against the tile wall as the hot water washes away the evidence of my fantasy. That little taste of relief isn't nearly enough. I need the real thing. I need Poison writhing beneath me, screaming my name as I make her come over and over.

"I'm going to find you, little whore, and when I do, you're fucking mine."

Stepping out of the shower, I dry off and get dressed quickly. I've got shit to do today, and fantasising about Poison isn't going to get it done. I have an assignment, if you will. Those guys last night gave me a job to prove my worth. It's a piece of piss. I could do it with my eyes closed .

Heading downstairs, I make my way to the drive, where a sleek black Corvette sits like a panther waiting to roar to life. A little OTT for the English countryside roads, but who gives a fuck?

I slide into the driver's seat and fire up the engine, feeling it purr beneath me. As I pull out of the driveway, my mind drifts back to last night's clandestine meeting. The shadowy figures, their faces obscured, had promised me power beyond my wildest dreams if I could prove myself worthy.

A simple task. Eliminate the target.

Simple for someone like me. I may not have Poison's finesse, but I've got my own deadly skills.

The target is some mid-level warlock causing trouble for the wrong people. Idiots like that are a dime a dozen around here. I almost feel bad for the poor bastard, but stupid is as stupid does. Know your limits and who to fuck with before you play with the big dogs.

As I speed down the winding country roads, I smirk. This job is child's play compared to what I'm capable of. But it's a means to an end. Do this, prove myself, and I'm one step closer to finding Poison.

My destination is a seedy pub on the outskirts of town - the kind of place that attracts all manner of supernatural lowlifes. I'm looking forward to it. I could use a bit of violence to work out my frustrations.

As I pull into the gravel lot, I park up and scan the car park. It's mid-morning, barely, but this place is known for its lax opening hours. I climb out of the car and stalk towards the door, my boots crunching on the loose stones.

Shoving open the worn door, I look around and spot the target a mile off. He's arrogant and has that overly confident smirk on his face as he regales his followers with tales that are probably embellishments at best, lies, more like.

Not really giving a toss about being subtle, I stalk over to him and grip him by his godawful black shirt with silver moons printed on. It's cheap and nasty. "You Winslow?"

"Who wants to know?" he replies, giving me a filthy glare and trying to zap me into letting him go.

I laugh darkly as his pathetic attempt at magick fizzles against my skin. "Someone who's about to end your miserable existence."

Before he can react, I drag him off his barstool and slam him face-first into the nearest wall. The impact leaves a crack in the plaster, and Winslow groans in pain. Torin has a point in what he always says. There is something fan-fucking-tastic about getting your hands dirty.

"What the fuck?" Winslow sputters, blood trickling from his split lip.

I lean in close, my voice a low growl. "You've been causing trouble for the wrong people. Time to pay up."

His eyes widen in fear. "Wait, I can explain?—"

Getting confirmation that this is, in fact, my target, I cut him off by grabbing a fistful of his greasy hair and smashing his head against the wall again. "Save it for someone who gives a shit."

The bar erupts into chaos as Winslow's cronies finally snap out of their shock and rush to his aid. I grin, relishing the chance for a proper fight. Spinning around, I catch the first attacker with an elbow to the face, feeling his nose crunch satisfyingly under the impact.

The next one comes at me with a broken bottle. I dodge the wild swing and grab his wrist, twisting until I hear bones snap. He screams and drops to his knees.

"Come on, boys," I taunt, beckoning the remaining thugs. "Don't tell me that's all you've got."

They hesitate, knowing they are outmatched. I don't give them time to reconsider. Summoning my fae magick, I send a pulse of dark energy rippling through the room. It hits them like a physical force, slamming them back against tables and chairs.

Turning back to Winslow, I see him trying to crawl away. Pathetic. I stalk over and plant my boot on his back, pinning him to the grimy floor.

"Please," he whimpers. "I'll do anything. I've got money, connections?—"

I lean down, twisting my foot to grind his face into the sticky floor. "I told you, I don't give a shit."

With that, I reach down and grip his head in both hands. One sharp twist, and it's over with a sickening crack. His body goes limp beneath me .

Standing up, I survey the carnage around me. The remaining thugs are either unconscious or cowering in fear. The bartender is nowhere to be seen - smart man.

As I stride out of the bar, I feel a rush of exhilaration coursing through my veins. That was almost too easy, but fuck if it wasn't fun. I roll my shoulders, feeling the tension release. Nothing like a bit of violence to work out the kinks.

One step closer to my goal. One step closer to Poison.

As I speed back towards campus, my mind drifts to her again. That lithe body, those piercing blue eyes, that wicked smile. My cock stirs at the memory of how she felt, how she tasted. Next time, I won't let her slip away so easily.

I make it back to Thornfield in record time and drive around the campus, heading for home, when a small blonde figure rushes out in front of me, forcing me to slam on the brakes.

"Fucking hell!" I roar as she turns to me, eyes wide. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Shit, I'm sorry!" she shouts as I get out, ready for a showdown. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

I glare at her, my adrenaline still pumping from the bar fight. "You could've got yourself killed, you stupid bitch. Watch where you're fucking going next time."

She flinches at my harsh tone, but then a spark of defiance flashes in her green eyes. "Maybe you should slow down on campus, dickhole. This isn't fucking Silverstone."

I bark out a laugh, surprised by her sudden backbone. "Got some fire in you, don't you, bitch? Careful, little mouse. You don't want to piss off the wrong people around here."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever."

I narrow my eyes at her rudeness. This little bitch clearly doesn't know who she's messing with. In a flash, I'm right in front of her, looming over her petite frame.

"Listen here, you mouthy little cunt," I growl, gripping her chin roughly. "I could snap your neck before you even blink. So watch that smart mouth of yours."

To my surprise, she doesn't cower or back down. Instead, she glares right back at me, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Get your fucking hands off me," she hisses.

There's something about the fire in her gaze, that riles me up. Before I can take this further, she knees me hard in the balls.

"Fuck!" I double over, caught off guard by the sudden pain. "You bitch," I wheeze.

By the time I straighten up, she's already sprinting away across the quad. I could easily catch her with my magick, but something holds me back.

"Who the fuck are you?" I mutter, watching her blonde waves disappear around a corner .

My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text from my shadowy new employers:

"Job complete, we see. Well done. Further instructions to follow."

I smirk, shoving thoughts of the blonde aside. I've got bigger fish to fry, and a certain pink-haired assassin to track down.

"Game on, Poison," I mutter, sliding back into my car.

Tyres squealing as I set off again for the townhouse, I smile. Those shadowy figures promised me power beyond imagination if I prove myself, and I plan to do just that. Whatever it takes to find Poison and tame that fire in her to make her mine.