by KL Donn
I bury my head into his neck, slightly nervous because no one has ever said such nice things to me or made me feel like he does. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight and allowing me time to process everything.
When I finally compose myself, I lift my head and say, “You’ve taken over my every thought—awake and asleep.”
“What kinds of thoughts?” he teases, squeezing my hip.
“I’m just saying I look forward to seeing you every day. I mean, you know those video calls that I say are for Paige are really for me, right?”
“Really?” he asks, throwing in a fake surprised smile for good measure. “I figured that out the first time Paige ran away after saying hello and you stayed on to talk another thirty minutes.”
I laugh. “I crave every stolen kiss and every touch. And when we’re standing next to each other and your hand lingers on my hip until one of us has to move.” I trail off, as I run my fingertips down the front of his button-down shirt.
“You’re saying you like being with me?” His tone is light, but the question holds so much weight.
“Every single second. When I’m lying in bed, I wonder what it would be like to be lying next to you.”
He rubs the back of his neck as the heat between us rises. “I think about that, too.”
“I love spending time with you and Paige. I understand the pressure you’re under as a single dad with a demanding job. And I have enough going on in my own life that I’m completely fine with you being away. I just, I don’t know, I like being part of this little family. I can’t imagine not being part of it. Am I allowed to say that?”
“It’s the most wonderful thing you could have ever said.”
My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, but I have a big concern, and if I don’t mention it now, we could end up in a bad position down the road.
I glance down, trying to figure out how to express my apprehension. “If we start this, and something happens, it’ll crush Paige.”
“It’ll crush me, too,” he tells me earnestly. “But we’ve already started it, so I guess our only option is to work our asses off to keep what we have going.”
I rise to my tip-toes and brush my lips across his. “I’m up for the challenge.”
“Up for the challenge?” He laughs, tickling my ribs. “You are the challenge.”
I giggle as I curl into his chest, overcome by joy. For the first time in over a year, I finally feel like I have something to look forward to. With Sylvain and Paige by my side, I finally feel like I can take on anything the future holds—especially if the next thing on the horizon is love.
THE END
About Sophia Henry
Sophia Henry is a proud Detroit native who fell in love with reading, writing, and hockey, all before she became a teenager. She did not, however, fall in love with snow. So, after graduating with an English degree from Central Michigan University, she moved to the warmth of North Carolina for the remainder of her winters.
She spends her days writing books and tweeting too much. When she’s not writing, she’s chasing adventures with her two high-energy sons, watching her beloved Detroit Red Wings, or rocking out at concerts.
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Anti-Venom: Vipers MC
A Novella by Ashley Lane
Anti-Venom
by Ashley Lane
Alone we're dangerous. Together we'll be deadly. They should know better than to mess with a viper in a bed of poison ivy, but it's a lesson some still need to learn.
Copyright © 2019 by Ashley Lane
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
1
IVY
“Is there a problem here?”
Five words. That’s all it takes for the sounds drowning the Blue Iguana to disappear. The crack of the cue ball against the stick as it strikes. The raised voices competing with the television and the swift smack of the waitresses hand against the wandering fingers up the back of her skirt. It all vanishes at the sound of that voice. His voice.
Theo motherfucking Bourne.
My high school sweetheart and love of my miserable and pathetically boring life. Jesus Christ, Ivy, dramatic much? Okay, so my life isn’t miserable or pathetic and honestly, you’d have to be smoking some of my dad’s good shit to think it was boring. But being faced with him again, here—at this moment? Let’s just say I’d rather shovel pig shit. For fucks sake, Ivy.
Okay, Jesus, you’re right. I’m much too lady like to risk getting shit on my boots, but I can say with full confidence that if there ever was a Harry fuckin’ Potter and he could magic portal me to another dimension where Theo Bourne didn’t exist—I’d shovel any kind of shit all day if it was payment enough.
See, here’s the thing. Theo and I were everything. I was his sun and he was my moon. He always said he existed because of me. But words don’t mean shit when you break a seventeen year old’s heart and crush every dream she’s ever had about love and bullshit prince charmings. Let me be the one to save you some trouble girls. Prince Charming is a douche. He’s a lying liar who lies and anything he says or does is to get into your pants. Oh, but Ivy, not my man. My man would walk through fire for me. Please excuse me while I go barf, Tiffany. Because the truth is, unless you’re on the other end of that fire with your legs spread open like a Thanksgiving feast—he ain’t walking through shit.
“I said, is there a problem here?” The rough timbre of Theo’s voice drags me back to the present. His heat pierces the leather of my cut and I curse my body for its traitorous reaction. Fuckfuckfuck.
I glance over my shoulder, trying my best to school my features. I fail miserably. Holy Christ on a loaded cracker. The past ten years have been G-double O-D to Theo Bourne and because of that, I can’t help but hate him a little more. Asshole.
I open my mouth to reply but my eyes decide they need to acquaint themselves with the body of my first love. Apparently, the little whore didn’t get a good enough look the twenty or so times he had me on my back ten years ago. Which is why I choke on my spit, deterring any of the I’m hot shit, look what you lost out on facade that I had planned to create.
My eyes land on the worn leather cut that’s molded to his hulkish shoulders. Dragging them down, I finally catch sight of the President patch with the name Viper underneath, and I sway on my feet. This act—which shall also be known as ‘the stupidest goddamn thing I’ve ever done in my life’—prompts Theo to take a step forward and grip my waist in one hand while the other wraps around my elbow.
My ass is still pointed in his direction so the step only brings him flush with my body. I could scream at the way our bodies line up, the hills and valleys of my own matched by his. Back then, I thought it meant we were made for each other. How could two people that fit so perfectly together not be made for one another? Searing, bone deep heat hits my body, and to my absolute, life ending horror, I don’t clench my lips fast enough to catch the moan that built up in my little slut throat. What in the actual fucking fuck?
Please God, tell me that any second now my alarm is going to go off
and I’m going to wake up from the worst nightmare of my life. Seconds pass with no alarm and I know I’ve worn out my promises to get my lying ass back into church one too many times, because this time, Jesus is sitting back with a bowl of popcorn about to watch me go up flames.
“Theo Bourne,” my voice drips with saccharine sweetness. “My, my—what a surprise. I see you’ve learned a new trick.”
The corner of his mouth ticks up in a sexy smirk. “Wasn’t aware I had an original trick, Ives.”
I hum under my breath. “Oh yeah, darlin. See, your first trick is what I’ve come to call your disappearing act. Though... seems now you’re not a one act wonder and I can add re-appearing to that list.” I smile sweetly when his jaw flexes from the force of his teeth clenching, but my glory is short lived when my reason for being in this god forsaken bar shifts and moves to stand from his stool.
My heart drops and sweat dots my brow as panic floods my system. No, he can’t leave. Turning back to my target, I rip myself away from Theo’s grasp. Putting my elbows on the bar I make sure to give them a nice squeeze. Like I hoped, the piece of shit’s eyes drop right to the V of my black babydoll tee, but a throat clearing behind me steals his attention.
Russell Granger is a brute of a man. Coming in at six-foot-one and two hundred pounds you’d think the man wouldn’t be afraid of a little competition. I’ve watched him enough in the previous weeks to know that backing down from a fight is not in his DNA. But one good look at the massive man towering over my shoulder has his face paling. Just like that I know that no matter how hard or tight I squeeze, Darla and Dana just aren’t going to seal the deal for me tonight.
“Sorry, sugar. Got a little lady waitin’ at home for me. ‘Bout time I head out.” His voice is smooth as sugar, but the scent of stale beer and Marlboros that taint his breath make me cringe. Despite his best effort to hide, I know all about the wolf that hides under his skin. I’ve seen the damage his claws can reap. I also know with every fiber of my being that his little lady is usin’ her last prayer to pray that her husband doesn’t come home tonight. It was my job to make that happen. Now I’ve failed, and Theo Bourne is going to pay the price.
Even with my back turned to him, I can almost see the self-satisfied smirk that I know is pulling at his mouth. If I wasn’t feeling quite so homicidal at the situation, I’d laugh. He thinks he’s won. He’s got another thing coming.
Not deterred, I pout my lips and slide my tongue between my teeth. Reaching back, I snag my pen from my back pocket and scribble my burner number on the crumpled cocktail napkin. Once I have it smoothed out and my number down, I pick up the germ infested piece of paper and with my eyes locked on Russ’s, and I press my ruby red lips underneath the fake number. Pulling it away from my mouth, I grin at the luscious imprint left behind.
My message is clear. When he wants me without the threat of The Hulk’s fist going through his face, he knows how to find me. For tonight, I’ve done the best I can do. Straightening to leave, I ignore the way the skin of my arm pulls slightly, likely stuck to a questionable residue on the bar. My head moves, and with the force, my long, silky red strands sail over my shoulder. Sure to put an extra sway in my hips, I move toward the door when Russ’s voice stops me.
“You got a name to go with these lips, darlin’?”
Ah. Hook, line and sinker. And this ladies and gentlemen, is where I say checkmate to Theo motherfucking Bourne.
Coming to a complete stop, I angle the upper half of my body toward the men behind me, being sure to leave my ass for their viewing pleasure. I turn and wait for the moment my eyes lock with Theo’s, the thirst for his shock thrumming under my skin. I lift my arm, enjoying the way his eyes dance along the colorful sleeve of tattoos that seventeen year old me didn’t have. His eyes take on an appreciative gleam.
With deft fingers, I lift the heavy mass of hair from where it’s covering the patch on the right breast pocket of my cut. Eyes never straying from his, I commit every second of this moment to memory.
The moment when he realizes who I am.
“You can call me Poison Ivy.”
2
IVY
“I need eyes on Russ Granger’s house for the foreseeable future.”
“I take it your night didn’t go as planned?”
I put every ounce of hatred and malice I have for Theo into my glare and I can almost see Ranger’s balls shrivel inside his threadbare jeans. “I’ll take that as a no,” he mumbles and pulls his phone from his pocket. He turns to leave the room but not before I hear him ordering two of our best prospects, Blip and Tiny, to get their asses on patrol or face the poison.
It may not be typical in our world to fear the threat of a woman, but I’ve worked hard the past ten years to ensure my name is known far and wide. It’s one of the reasons I took such immense pleasure in seeing Theo’s face when I introduced myself tonight. The satisfaction of seeing the moment he put the pieces together will last me a lifetime.
He knew me as Ivy Scott. Former ex-girlfriend and daughter/MC Princess to Oliver “Timber” Scott, President of the Iron Reapers. I’ve always had a red hot temper that matched my hair, but ten years ago it took a lot to get my flames burning. Now, I’m Poison Ivy, and those flames? Well, let’s just say... they never go out. They’re a constant thrum under my skin. A prickle that’s never really gone. When they’re not blazing bright, they’re simmering coals in wait of fresh air to feed them. My anger is now a living, breathing thing. And it’s all thanks to him.
I walk through the clubhouse nodding my head at my men as I pass. It’s a Saturday night and most of them are dick deep in cutsluts, but the ones that aren’t give their due diligence in return. Reaching my father’s door, I tap lightly on the mahogany having learned my lesson on entering without permission.
My father is an amazing man and he would never lay a finger on me. But seeing a girl four years my junior bouncing on his lap—I’d rather gouge my eyes out than see again.
“Come in.” His life aged voice comes from the other side and even with permission, I still keep my eyes on the floor when I enter. Like always, the sight makes him laugh, the sound warming me from the inside.
“A man gets caught having sex one time...” he mocks and I lift my head unable to contain my grin.
“A dad gets caught having sex by his daughter one time. Big difference there Daddy. Big.”
He laughs again and waves me farther into the room. “So, how can I help my Vice President?”
Oh yeah, that bit about my name being feared in our world—it may also have something to do with the title that comes after it. ‘Poison’ Ivy Scott, Vice President of the Iron Reapers MC. Even though being VP of my dad’s MC wasn’t something that was on my long list of lifetime dreams and achievements, I wouldn’t change my place here for anything. Well, maybe one thing.
I was eighteen when our former VP was killed during a drive-by, by a small time local gang. Despite deals being made with their leader during a sit down, certain members of the gang weren’t happy when they found out that we would be taking over their most profitable territories where they sold their supply. What they didn’t know was that their leader was in over his head. Despite the name he had made for himself, the allure of money was too strong and he found himself thousands of dollars in gambling debt.
The amount of people he owed money to was astounding. Though I did applaud him and his attempt to right his wrongs, in the end it just wasn’t enough. He needed a way out. And since, like most people, he valued the breath in his lungs and wanted to keep his heart beating another forty or fifty years, he swallowed his pride and reached out to an unlikely ally. We were more than happy to take the territory off his hands. We’d already been looking to expand and the area that they handled made bank.
To save face for the leader and hold up appearances, we offered them a lump sum for the area that we would be taking. The amount was large, but it was fair, and honestly, an amount that we would make three times over
in only a few short months. We left the sit down feeling optimistic, and in celebration had a club party the next night. What we didn’t realize was that after helping him, the gang leader would screw us royally. Instead of being honest with his men, he weaved a story of deception and thievery and the gang members retaliated.
Since our clubhouse is virtually impenetrable thanks to the sheet metal fence that surrounds the perimeter, they hit us when we were vulnerable. Being the man he was, our VP offered to go on a liquor run when the bar started running dry early on the night of the party. All of the other members were either trashed or well on their way, so he offered.
I was with Theo the night we got the call that Mack ‘The Ripper’ Bourne had been murdered only steps outside Pete’s Liquor. I watched as before my eyes, a piece of the boy I loved died with his father. That night was the beginning of the end, and I never had a clue.
With nothing more than a note on my pillow, Theo disappeared two days after Mack’s funeral. At the time, I thought he just needed space. Time to clear his head away from all of the prying men that only wanted to be there for him. But as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, I had to face the cold hard truth.
Theo was gone.
For years, the seat of Vice President went unfilled within the Iron Reapers MC. It wasn’t the normal way of things, but to me it spoke millions about the man that had previously held the role. I thought it would never be filled again. I didn’t know at the time that my dad was saving it for me.