Page 31 of Thorns of Malice

He knows she's off-limits. I warned him ten years ago.

What the fuck is he doing with her?

"Oh, maybe you don't remember me?" Ivy asks, tilting her head, her lips twisting in a smile. She bats her eyelashes and then steps closer.

Dyer releases her and she slides her fingers along my hip, slowly stroking it. She rises up on her tiptoes, leaning into my ear. Her breath taunts my lobe, sending tingles down my spine. She flirts, "It'd be a shame if you told me you forgot about me."

I stand there, for a rare moment in my life unable to speak, my dick hardening even more as she presses against me and softly laughs.

"That's the Dax I remember," she whispers. "Your dick still remembers its dirty little whore."

My cock throbs. I clench my jaw, staring at her, my chest tightening, unsure how to respond.

She turns and steps away from me.

Dyer slides his arm back around her waist, his arrogance growing.

She puts her palm back on his chest. "Do you think there'll be dancing tonight? You know I really like to dance."

"Yeah, doll. I know you do."

"I'm not your doll. Remember?" she says, giving him a seductive look.

He lowers his voice, but it's loud enough so I can hear him state, "That's right, my little slut. Maybe we should go to the bathroom before we go to the table? I can fuck that wet pussy of yours."

"You're not fucking Ivy in the bathroom!" I warn, louder than I should.

Several people turn to stare at me.

Ivy's eyes widen. "Dax. Why would you raise your voice in such an aggressive tone?" she innocently asks, acting shocked.

I stay quiet, unsure of what's happening and how this is possible.

I'm having a nightmare.

Yes, that must be it.

I pinch the side of my leg, but I feel it and realize this is real life. This is reality—Ivy standing in front of me with Dyer, of all people.

And I can't decide if Dyer or Bobby would've been worse to stand next to Ivy.

I need to figure out what's going on here.

I grab Ivy's bicep and try to pull her away from Dyer, but he holds on tight.

She cries, "Ow, you're hurting me, Dax."

"Don't bruise her," Dyer accuses, and people's shocked gasps fill the air.

Stay calm,I tell myself, but my insides rage with anger so hot, I don't know how to contain it.

"You're hurting me," Ivy states again, staring at her arm and then pinning her blues to mine.

I slowly release her, but I step closer, inhaling her scent, remembering how it felt for her to be mine, waking up in myarms and just being with me. My voice comes out desperate. "Can I talk to you, please?"

"Not tonight. At least not in private, if that's what you're asking," she answers.

"We have to get to our table," Dyer states.

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