42. Ivy

42

IVY

They aren't stopping. They won't stop. I don't want them to, but I think they've broken me. I can feel my climax within my grasp, but it won't come.

My body trembles uncontrollably as they continue to use me, pleasure and overstimulation blurring together into an overwhelming haze. I'm vaguely aware that I'm babbling and begging, but I'm not sure if I'm asking them to stop or keep going.

"Fuck, she's perfect," Bram growls, his fingers still pumping inside me relentlessly.

"Such a good little princess," Tate murmurs, pinching and tugging at my nipples. "Taking everything we give you."

Torin's fangs graze my inner thigh. "One more, little killer. I know you have it in you."

I whimper, shaking my head. "I can't... it's too much... "

"Yes, you can," Bram states. "Come for us, Ivy. Show us how greedy that pussy is."

His thumb presses hard against my clit as Torin sinks his fangs into my inner thigh. The sharp pain and the pleasure finally pushes me over the edge. I scream as the most intense orgasm yet crashes over me, my vision going white as my body convulses violently.

When I come back to myself, I'm trembling and gasping for breath. The magical bonds have disappeared, and strong arms are cradling me gently.

"Shh, we've got you," Tate murmurs, stroking my hair soothingly.

I manage to open my eyes, blinking groggily at the three men surrounding me.

"You okay, little mouse?" Bram asks softly, his hand caressing my cheek.

I try to speak, but my throat is raw from screaming. I settle for a weak nod instead.

"You were incredible," Torin murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "So perfect for us."

Tate's arms tighten around me. "Let's get you cleaned up and hydrated."

Before I can protest, he scoops me up and carries me to the bathroom. The others follow. With his warlock magick, he fills the large tub with warm water and fragrant bath oils.

Tate lowers me gently into the water.

I lean back, letting out a contented sigh as the warm water soothes my aching muscles .

"Drink," Bram murmurs, holding a glass of water to my lips that has magickly appeared. I obey gratefully, gulping down the cool liquid.

As they tend to me, murmuring praise and endearments, I feel a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the bathwater. This is more than just mind-blowing sex. There's a tenderness, a connection I never expected from the Kings of Thornfield who treated Poison so roughly. It makes me doubt this is real. But when I look up at Tate, kneeling next to the bath, leaning his chin on his arms on the side, watching me with love in his gaze, the doubt melts away.

"We need to talk about what we're going to do," I mutter.

"Not yet. Get cleaned up and sleep on it. We can talk about it in the morning," Torin replies.

I nod and close my eyes as Tate starts to wash me down. My limbs are limp, and I can't help at all, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Soon, I'm cleaned up and carried back to the bed in a warm, fluffy towel. Tate whisks the damp covers off with a flick of his wrist and lies me down, drying me off before throwing clean blankets over me.

He kisses my forehead. "Rest now, princess. We won't be far."

I drift in and out of consciousness, dimly aware of the men moving around the room. Their quiet voices and gentle touches soothe me as I hover on the edge of sleep .

At some point, I feel the bed dip as they join me. Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me against a warm chest. I burrow into the embrace instinctively, feeling safe and protected.

"Sleep, little mouse," Bram murmurs, his breath tickling my ear. "We've got you."

I want to stay awake, to bask in this intimacy, but exhaustion pulls me under. My last conscious thought is how right this feels, surrounded by my Kings.

I wake to a dark, crushing pain on my chest. My eyes snap open, and I'm lost in an abyss of nothingness. The air is stagnant, mouldy and hard to take into my lungs. I sit up, wondering what the fuck has happened to me. Last I remember, I was in Tate's bed.

"Miss Hammond."

I turn to the voice, unable to see anything. "Who is it?"

Footsteps echo all around me as someone approaches me. A light comes with them, shining up from underneath the cold, hard ground. "Professor Swann?" I ask, shielding my eyes against the sudden brightness.

"Not Swann," the man says.

Well, man is putting it lightly. He is a creepy, pale-faced, wrinkly thing in a black suit with a wide grin, sharp teeth and rings around his eyes that are as dark as the space around me.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

I stand up, realising I'm still naked, but there is nowhere to hide, so I lift my chin higher, accepting my fate .

"I am Death," the creature says with a bow. "And you, Miss Hammond, are in my domain."

My blood runs cold. "Am I... dead?"

Death's grin widens. "Not quite yet. But you and I need to have a little chat."

"Why?" I swallow hard, trying to quell the panic rising in my chest. "Why am I here?"

"I am The Syndicate," he states as if I asked who he was.

But nothing, and I mean, nothing could have terrified me more than those four words. My mouth is as dry as the Sahara in summer. "What?" I croak.

"Your boss."

"Death?"

He nods.

Okay, well, that kind of makes sense in a weird, grossly twisted way, but still, it's not what I expected.

"So, what do we need to chat about?"

"Your allegiance to The Syndicate."

"What about it? I'm loyal. I do my jobs, I don't make waves."

"Except now your job had his cock inside you, and that complicates things."

I gulp, feeling my cheeks heat up. Hearing Death say the word ‘cock' is hilarious, but I'm not fucking laughing. "So?"

"So you now plan to kill him after becoming involved with him?"

"The contract is a fake, but you wouldn't cancel it."

"No, he is a distraction to you, as are the other two. "

I didn't think it was possible for my blood to run any colder, but it's arctic temperatures now. "Meaning?"

"Meaning the job has been extended. Kill all three, and you will be well-rewarded for your loyalty."

I blink as I'm not entirely sure I heard him correctly. He blinks back at me. Slowly, like a Death-owl thing, and it creeps me out even more.

I stare at Death in stunned silence, my mind reeling. Kill Torin, Bram, and Tate? The men I've just shared such an intense, intimate experience with? The thought makes me physically ill.

"No," I say firmly, surprised by the strength in my voice. "I won't do it."

Death's grin widens impossibly further, stretching across his skeletal face. "Oh, but you will, Miss Hammond. You have no choice in the matter."

"The hell I don't," I snarl, anger overriding my fear. "I'm not your puppet. I won't kill them."

"Your loyalty to The Syndicate is binding," Death says calmly. "You will complete this task or face the consequences."

A chill runs down my spine. "What consequences?"

"Your soul belongs to me, Ivy Hammond," Death says, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Defy me, and I will claim it. Painfully."

I swallow hard, fear clawing at my throat. But beneath the terror, a spark of defiance burns.

"No," I say again.

"I'm not giving you a choice."

He claps his hands once, and I fall through a hole in the ground, screaming hoarsely as I plummet to what can't be my death… not yet.

I wake up with a muffled, hoarse scream, cold sweats and tangled in the blankets. Also alone. My heart feels like it is going to explode out of my chest.

I look around for the guys, but they have left, and the house is deadly quiet. I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. One thing I do know is that I have to run. Now, there is no option. Death is coming for me if I don't complete this order, and there isn't a chance in hell I'm killing the three guys who have shown me that all I've been doing for years is existing instead of living.

Sitting up, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the violent trembling that's taken over my body. The silence of the house feels oppressive, pressing in on me from all sides. Part of me wants to call out for Tate, Torin, or Bram, but I know I can't. I have to face this alone, to keep them safe.

I force myself to take deep breaths, trying to calm the panic rearing up.

Running a shaky hand through my tangled hair, I try to organise my thoughts. I need to leave, that much is clear. But where can I go that Death won't find me? Is there anywhere in the world safe from the literal embodiment of mortality?

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle it. This is unbelievable. All of it. How did I end up here, caught between Death and the men I've fallen for?

Fallen for. The realisation hits me like a punch to the gut. When did that happen? How did I go from seeing them as dangerous adversaries to this?

I close my eyes, memories of last night washing over me. The tenderness in their touches, the way they cared for me afterwards. It was more than just mind-blowing sex. It was a connection I've never experienced before.

And now I have to leave them behind to keep them safe or kill them to keep my life.

The thought sends a sharp pain through my chest. I've spent so long keeping people at arm's length, never letting anyone get close, and now that I've finally opened up, finally let myself be vulnerable, I have to run.

"Fuck," I mutter, wiping away the tears that have started to fall. I don't have time for this. I need to move.

Forcing myself out of bed, I wrap the towel around me. It's still dark outside, early morning, I'd wager. I need to get back to the house I share with Ramsey, and this is all I've got. My pjs are somewhere downstairs, but I don't have time to go looking for them.

My gaze falls on the ornate mirror hanging on the wall. I stare at my reflection, barely recognising the woman looking back at me. She looks haunted, eyes wide with fear and desperation .

That's when it hits me. I'm a shapeshifter. I don't have to be Ivy Hammond anymore. I can become anyone, anything.

A plan starts to form in my mind. It's risky, dangerous even. But it might be my only chance.

I close my eyes, concentrating on changing my appearance. My hair lengthens and darkens to a rich chestnut brown. My eyes shift from green to a deep, chocolate brown. My facial features soften, with cheekbones becoming less pronounced and my nose slightly wider.

When I open my eyes, a stranger stares back at me from the mirror. It's a good start, but not enough. I need to change everything - my mannerisms, my voice, my entire identity. There has to be someone out there who can help me run.

I allow myself one moment of weakness, closing my eyes and remembering how it felt to be held by my men, to feel safe and cherished. Then I lock those feelings away, burying them deep. I can't afford to be sentimental now. Sentiment will get me, and them, killed.

With one last look around the room, I head for the door. Each step feels like I'm walking through molasses, my body rebelling against leaving. But I force myself forward. I have no choice.

As I reach for the doorknob, a wave of dizziness washes over me. I lean against the wall, breathing heavily. Is this Death's doing? Is he trying to stop me ?

"No," I growl through gritted teeth. "You don't own me."

I push off the wall and wrench the door open, stumbling out into the hall. The house is still eerily quiet, no sign of the guys. Part of me is relieved - I'm not sure I could go through with this if I had to face them. Another part aches to see them one last time, to explain, to say goodbye.

But I can't. I have to be strong.

I make my way down the stairs, each step feeling like a mile. At the bottom, I pause, my hand on the front door. This is it. Once I walk out this door, there's no turning back.

I hear muted voices coming from the living room, and I freeze, but I don't think they heard me. Taking a deep breath, I quietly open the door and step out into the cold, early morning air. The street is quiet, most people still asleep at this early hour. Perfect for disappearing.

I start running, dressed only in the fucking towel, but hey, I've sprinted across the university campus wearing less. I see my house in sight and run faster, only to slam into someone solid as he appears in front of me, dressed all in black, his tattooed chest on show, telling me instantly who it is.

"Get out of my way, Vex," I growl, trying to duck around him.

"Can't do that, little shifter."

I glare at him. How does he even know it's me? Guess this disguise isn't going to fool anyone .

He grabs my arms and in the blink of an eye, we are inside his office room in his house. He seals the door shut and stares at me. I squirm as those eyes search mine.

"You are in deep shit," he says eventually.

"You know?" I don't bother with denials or bravado. What's the point?

Vex's eyes bore into mine, his expression unreadable. "I know enough. The Syndicate has put out an order on you."

My blood runs cold. "How do you know that?"

He smirks, but there's no humour in it. "I have my sources. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

I slump against the wall, the fight draining out of me. "I don't know," I admit. "I can't kill them, Vex. I won't."

"Then you'll die," he says bluntly.

"Maybe that's for the best," I mutter, sliding down to sit on the floor.

Vex crouches in front of me, his face serious. "Don't be stupid, little shifter. Death isn't the answer."

I laugh bitterly. "Isn't it? Death is literally after me, Vex. How am I supposed to outrun that?"

He's quiet for a long moment, studying me. Then he sighs. "There might be a way. But it's dangerous, and you'd have to leave everything behind. Your life as Ivy Hammond would be over. "

Hope flares in my chest, quickly tempered by suspicion. "Why would you help me?"

Vex shrugs. "Maybe because you don't deserve this ultimatum."

We stare at each other for a long moment, and I see the pain in his eyes, the fear of being under the thumb of the same creatures as I am. The harshness that this life brings to you, even if it's something you choose to do.

I take a deep breath and do what maybe I should've done all along.

I trust him.