5. Bram

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."

I storm towards the door, needing to get out before I do something I'll regret. Like ripping Tate's smug face off.

"Where are you going?" he calls after me.

"Out," I growl, slamming the door behind me .

The cool night air hits me as I stride down the quiet street towards the campus. My mind is a chaotic swirl of thoughts, all focused around her. Poison. That pink hair, those defiant blue eyes, the way she feels wrapped around my cock, the way she reacted when my fingers invaded her arsehole. She is a fucking goddess. She could have killed Torin earlier with whatever poison she had in her veins, but she didn't. She warned him. Why? Why did she do that if she hated us and wanted us dead for what we do to her? It's because she fucking loves it, that's why. She's a little slut who loves the thrill of being gang-fucked wherever we want to take her.

My mind drifts back to that first night. We found her over the target we were meant to kill. The drug dealing professor of ancient history at Thornfield University. A bear shifter who got himself trapped, literally, before she slit his throat. She is wily. Clever. It's an intoxicating combination of talents. But that kill was ours, and she swiped it out from under us. We punished her. We definitely took her by surprise that night, but not a single word of protest escaped her lips. I groan as I remember her thrashing underneath me as I pinned her down and rammed my cock into her. But the weird thing is, I think she enjoyed it. She definitely came all over my cock. I could feel her tight pussy clenching around me. My dick was dripping when I was done with her, and then I watched Torin and Tate have their turn in the forest next to the dead professor .

I shake my head, trying to clear the vivid memories. This obsession is dangerous, I know that. But I can't seem to stop myself from wanting more. Needing more. I need to figure out how to find her, not relive our encounters. But how? She's a ghost, impossible to track. Or is she?

As I walk, my mind works overtime trying to figure out how to get to her. If Tate is right and she is a shifter, she could be impossible to find if she doesn't want to be found. I keep going back to knowing that we've had her in our grip and then let her go like a fish on a hook. Next time, I don't give a fuck what Torin says, I'm keeping hold of her. I can't get her out of my head. Those defiant eyes, that luscious body, the way she takes everything we dish out and comes back for more. She's like a drug, and I'm completely addicted.

The more I think about it, the more I think Tate is right. She is a shifter, which means she could be anyone. She could go to Thornfield Academy and be literally anyone. Or she could be from out of town with just a whole boatload of contracts in the area. Who knows? But I intend to find out. The Syndicate, while dangerous, is not going to stop me from finding out her true identity and from staking a claim on her.

Turning course, I wander towards the edge of campus, where the dark forest begins. The trees loom ominously, knowing who is approaching them. This wild, untamed place is a part of me, a part of my magick .

Slipping between the trees, I let my dark magick unfurl. Tendrils of power seep into the earth, connecting me to the ancient energies that pulse through this land. I breathe deeply, inhaling the forest scents of pine, damp earth and the decay of the leaves on the ground. It's early autumn, and the forest floor is covered with a blanket of the fallen as I reach the place where, six weeks ago, we claimed Poison for the first time in this game of dominance and punishment.

If Poison is a shifter, there might be a way to track her unique energy signature. It's a long shot, but it's worth trying. I crouch down at the exact stop she was spreadeagled underneath me, placing my palms flat on the forest floor. Closing my eyes, I send my magick probing outward, searching.

At first, there's nothing but the usual background noise of small creatures and plant life. But then there is a flicker of something different. It sputters to life but then dies quickly. Her signature.

I press my hand closer to the ground, needing to get that taste of her. It ignites again as I double my efforts to focus on the night we claimed her. The taste of wild raspberries floods my mouth, and I nearly drool with the taste of her. My eyes snap open, and I smile slowly. Straightening up, I now have something, however minuscule, to go on. I can only track her down when she is under the guise of Poison. Her natural magick scent will be different. Maybe not wildly different, but enough for me to overlook her if I saw her. It's a start .

"Bram Sinclair?"

The voice nearby is smooth, male, confident. I turn to look into the depths of the trees around us. I hadn't heard him approach, which tells me a lot about who he is, and the aura of magick coming from him nearly knocks me off my feet.

"Who wants to know?"

The male glides towards me, his feet not touching the floor. He is dressed all in black, his head bald, and his eyes the silver of the fae star that hangs on a chain around my neck. His wide-mouthed smile gives me the creeps as he floats around me in an arc. "My boss wants to speak with you."

"Yeah? And who the fuck is your boss?" I wouldn't say I'm afraid of this arsehole, but unnerved… yeah, let's go with unnerved. He is giving me some serious evil vibes.

His crocodile smile grows. "Your fae ears won't stand up against his name. Merely accept that when he wants something, he gets it."

I narrow my eyes. "And what does he want?"

"A word."

"About?" I grit out, getting pissed off with this cryptic bullshit.

He shrugs. "Only one way to find out."

Trying not to roll my eyes, I consider this. Going off alone with this creep is probably not going to end up in my best interests. But, unfortunately, I'm a curious cat by nature, and while this might just get me killed, I need to know what this is about .

"Where?"

"Follow me."

Creepy guy glides off in the opposite direction to which I came, and I set off, following him slowly, keeping a lookout for anything even remotely suspicious.