Page 17 of Ivy's Venom

“Alright,” I pull her over to me, wrapping my arms around her neck. “Let’s check it out.”

She squeals and her thin arms crush me in a hug.

The music is pouring out of a long string of about ten yachts and teenagers are spilling out of everywhere with red Solo cups in their hands.

“No drinking.” I point at Amelia.

“I don’t drink.” She jumps out of my car.

That’s a relief, another thing different from Charlotte, and one less thing to worry about.

I watch as Amelia hurries ahead of me, in search of her friends, and maybe that blonde fucker that was with Ivy the other night.

Ivy.

I wonder if she’s here. Does she come to high school parties? She doesn’t seem like the type that would waste her time with catty females or too touchy guys. Fuck, what am I saying? I don’t know the bitch.

I step onto the first boat and a guy automatically offers me a red cup, I decline because I’m fucking driving, and I don’t usually drink anyways. Not for a few years now, not since Charlotte was taken from me. I shake my head to clear it of the thoughts and try to pick Amelia out in the crowd. In my search to find my sister, I find a familiar brunette a few boats over, and I lean against the side of the boat to watch her.

Ivy is alone and has a red cup in her hands-no fucking surprise-as she stares down at her phone screen. She looks angry and slightly confused as she swiftly swipes her thumb over the lit surface. Her face is slightly illuminated and I can see the gloss shining on her lips, her teeth dragging over the bottom one in frustration.

I’m hardening in my pants and I would punch myself in the fucking dick for this reaction if I knew it wouldn’t hurt so much. She still has that one prominent dimple in her left cheek. She’s wearing a black leather jacket with grey fur along the collar, a white top underneath, and a black skirt, her long ass legs on display.

She shoves her phone into her jacket pocket and exhales, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. A lot of these guys have their eye on her and I don’t fucking blame them, she’s gorgeous. None of them know what I do though, that her inside is a mess of rotting flesh, ready to destroy anyone she comes in contact with.

Why then am I tempted by it?

Finally, one of the guys watching her, gets the nerve to approach, and I watch with complete concentration. What will she do?

He taps her arm and she turns towards him, her face now fully facing me. He leans in and says something in her ear and I chuckle as her top lip curls up in disgust. She shakes her head at him and shoos him away. She literally shooed him away.

I watched her for about ten minutes and in that time, she looked at her phone twelve times. I wonder who is messaging her or what she’s waiting for. Then, another guy works up the nerve to approach her and I chuckle in anticipation. The whole time I’ve been here, she hasn’t looked at anyone with interest and I find it amusing that these guys want to risk it.

This time, she sees him coming before he even reaches her, and shakes her head at him. I throw my head back and laugh at the guy’s face, he looks so fucking dejected.

Once again she’s pulling her phone out of her pocket and staring at it with a frown on her face.

I think it’s time I find out what’s eating at Ivy now.

DEAN:Why does the Black Slaughter have me on her list, Ivy?

Dean:I told you what would happen if someone found out.

Dean:No answer?

Dean:You know the consequences.

I’m reading his messages and shocked at what he’s saying. What the fuck is a Black Slaughter? And why is he acting like I told someone? I do know the consequences and they are too steep to take the risk.

“You’re going to have premature age lines.” No way.

I look up and see Neil standing a few feet away, his arms crossed at his chest, and a baseball cap thrown backwards on his head.

He’s wearing a brown distressed leather jacket, a black shirt, and a pair of dark jeans. He looks good and I give him another once over.

“The boys are going to get jealous if they see you paying me that much attention.” He almost sounds playful and my guard automatically flies up. What the fuck does he want?

“What do you want?” I try to sound nonplussed.

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