36. Torin

36

TORIN

The only thing I can glean from my warlock brother is that he is a little bit anxious about this. There is nothing else to tell me if he is worried about this trap I'm setting for Poison because she is Ivy, and I want to force his hand. Do I think Poison will take me out? She'll give it a damn good go, I'm sure. But seeing as I know it's coming, that should be enough to make sure she doesn't send me blowing in the wind. But Tate is the wildcard here. Why isn't he coming clean about her? That's when a thought forms in my mind, and I smile slowly.

"What?" Tate asks, instantly recognising that something sinister is about to happen. His green eyes narrow, muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight.

"Just wondering if I should order a hit on that blonde bitch you're screwing? Maybe it will make you get your head back in the game if she is no longer in the picture." I keep my tone casual, but there's a dangerous edge to my words.

All the blood drains from his face, and that pretty much seals that. His reaction is more visceral than I expected, confirming my suspicions. Almost.

"What was her name again?" I press, watching him squirm.

"Fuck you," Tate snarls, his voice low and menacing. "If you or anyone else lays one finger on her, I will rip your insides out piece by piece, slowly and with extreme malice."

I lean back in my chair, watching Tate carefully. His reaction is interesting. More intense than I expected. The veins in his neck are pulsing, his hands clenched into tight fists. "My, my. Quite protective of this one, aren't we? I thought she was just another fuck."

Tate's jaw clenches, his eyes flashing dangerously. A spark of magick crackles between his fingers, barely contained. "Leave her out of this, Torin. She has nothing to do with any of it."

I smirk, enjoying how easy it is to get under his skin. The air in the room feels charged, thick with tension. "Oh, I think she has everything to do with it. You've been distracted and unfocused, and now you're threatening me over some random female? That's not like you, brother."

Bram watches our exchange with keen interest, his eyes flicking between us. His dark fae energy ripples just beneath the surface, feeding off the growing conflict.

Tate stands abruptly, sending the chair scooting back with a harsh screech against the floor. "I'm done with this conversation. You want me to focus on catching Poison? Fine. But Ivy stays out of it. End of discussion."

Ivy. Hmm. The name rolls around in my mind, pieces of a puzzle slowly clicking into place.

As Tate storms out of the room, his magick leaving a crackling trail in his wake, I call after him, "We'll see about that."

Once Tate is gone, Bram turns to me with a raised eyebrow, curiosity dancing in his violet eyes. "You really think this girl is important?"

I nod slowly, a plan already forming in my mind. "Oh, I think she's very important. In fact..." A slow, cruel smile spreads across my face, fangs glinting in the low light. "I think we may have just discovered Tate's Achilles heel."

"This girl?" Bram says again, disbelief colouring his tone. I know it's because he thinks she is an insignificant speck in the vortex of Poison in his mind, and half of me wants to pull the band-aid off, but the other part of me needs that 0.1% confirmation.

In a flash of vampire speed, I leave Bram behind as I fly out of the backdoor and over the fence at the back. The wind whips past me as I push myself to my limit to get to Ivy's house before Tate does. The world blurs around me, streets and buildings melting into a kaleidoscope of colour and shadow.

Seeing the house where I found Tate the other night in view, I leap over the neighbour's gate and leverage myself to scale the wall to the connecting rooftop. The rough brick scrapes against my palms, but I barely notice, my focus entirely on my goal.

Seeing Tate strolling along, trying to look unhasty in case we followed him, I smile and drop down to the window ledge at the front of the house to peer inside. What I see makes my cock go hard, a low growl rumbling in my chest.

Ivy is naked on the bed, writhing around as she sees to herself, nearing an orgasm that looks like it is about to rock her world. Her pale skin gleams in the soft lamplight, a light sheen of sweat making her body glisten.

I watch as Ivy's back arches off the bed, her fingers working frantically over her clit. Her breasts heave with each panting breath, nipples hard and begging to be touched. Her face is a mask of ecstasy, lips parted in silent pleasure.

Part of me wants to smash through the window and take her right there. The urge to claim her, to drink from her, to mark her as mine, is almost overwhelming. But I hold back, forcing myself to observe, to gather more information.

A low moan escapes her lips as she climaxes, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her thighs quiver, toes curling as waves of ecstasy wash over her. It's a sight that sears itself into my memory, igniting a fire in my veins.

My fangs elongate at the intoxicating scent of her arousal, and I growl as it is the exact scent that has covered my cock after being with Poison. It's all the confirmation I need. My senses don't lie.

Ivy's breathing slows, and she rolls onto her side, her gaze finding mine, crouched on the window ledge, watching her masturbate. For a moment, time seems to stand still as our eyes lock. There's no fear in her gaze, only a mixture of surprise and something else. Something darker. Something that makes my dead heart skip a beat.

Her lips part, and she sits up, her tits bouncing enticingly. I can hear her heart rate picking up, smell the spike of adrenaline in her scent.

I have nanoseconds to move before Tate sees me. I reach up to the ajar top-opener window and pull it out as far as it will go. With the agility of the vampire I am, I haul myself up and through the window, curling up into a ball as I hit the floor and land in a crouch, my gaze boring into hers as she slowly reaches for the sheet to cover her naked body, but doesn't scream or utter any sound.

The only thing I can hear is the pounding of her heart and my own breath as I straighten up. The air in the room is charged with tension, anticipation, and something else - a dangerous, electric current that crackles between us.

Ivy's eyes never leave mine, a silent challenge in their depths. She knows I've caught her, knows that her secret is out. But there's no fear in her gaze, only a fierce provocation that makes my blood sing.

As Tate knocks on the front door, I realise that the game has changed. Ivy, Poison - she's become the centre of a storm that's about to break over all of us, and the dark thrill that gives me is as satisfying as it is powerful.