"Can I touch you?" I ask, moving closer to the bed but not climbing onto it. Not yet.
She nods, reaching out to me. Her small hand finds mine, and I'm struck again by how delicate she feels in comparison to me. The protective instinct that surges through me is so strong it makes my chest ache.
Although small or not, she's fierce as fuck.
"You're burning up," I murmur, feeling the fever heat of her skin.
"Heat's getting stronger," she admits, her voice breathy. "The suppressant is wearing off."
Plague moves to the other side of the bed. "We should help you out of these clothes," he says gently. "You'll be more comfortable."
Ivy hesitates for a moment, then nods. She sits up, pulling Wraith's shirt over her head in one fluid motion. My breathhitches at the sight of her bare skin, the gentle curves of her breasts, the way the light from the bedside lamp makes her glow.
But it's the scar at her shoulder that makes my vision go red for a moment. The angry, raised mark where Wade Kelly marked her and she had toburn it offto escape him.
I'm not just gonna kill him. I'm gonna grab that pretty boy by his ankles, sharpen his helmet of gelled hair into a spade edge, and use him like a human shovel to dig his own grave right in center ice.
Then I'm gonna bury his ass alive.
"Whiskey," Ivy's soft voice pulls me back from the edge of rage. "I'm okay."
"Yeah," I grit out. "You are. And you're gonna stay that way."
She smiles at that, a real smile that transforms her whole face. Then she's reaching for me again, pulling me down onto the bed beside her. The mattress dips under my weight, and she curls into my side like she belongs there.
Maybe she does.
Plague settles on her other side, his movements cautious and controlled. Always so fucking controlled. But I can see the way his hands shake slightly as he reaches for her, the way his breathing has gone shallow.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his fingers ghosting over her ribs.
"More than okay," she breathes, arching into his touch.
And then we're touching her together, learning the map of her body with gentle hands. I trace the curve of her hip while Plague's fingers trail along her collarbone. She's so responsive,gasping and sighing at every caress, her scent growing stronger by the minute.
"So beautiful," I murmur against her temple, pressing kisses to her hair. "So fucking perfect."
Plague's hand finds her breast, thumb circling her nipple until it peaks. She moans, her back arching off the bed, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
"Please," she whispers, and that single word breaks what little restraint I have left.
I kiss her then, deep and hungry, swallowing her moans as Plague's mouth finds her throat. She tastes like honey and heat, like everything I've ever wanted but never thought I could have.
Her hands are everywhere, clutching at my shoulders, tangling in Plague's hair. She's burning up beneath us, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. Plague's hand slides down her body, finding the heat between her thighs. She cries out at the contact, her hips bucking up into his touch. I can smell how wet she is, how ready.
"So slick," Plague murmurs, his clinical mask slipping to reveal the hunger underneath. "Your body knows what it needs."
"You," she pants. "I need you."
I help her out of the rest of her clothes while Plague strips off his turtleneck with jerky, desperate movements. The sight of the jagged scar over his heart makes my chest twist up. The one I noticed last night when we were tangled up with Ivy, flushed pink against his bronze skin.
Someone hurt him.Bad.
I want to ask who did it. Want to know if they're still breathing, because if they are, I'd like to fix that. But I can't. Plague would just shut down completely, get all emo and retreat so far behind his walls I'd never reach him again.
So I swallow the question and pretend I don't notice it.
I don't have time to psychoanalyze myself anyway because Ivy is pulling me down into a kiss, her mouth hot and demanding against mine. I lose myself in the taste of her mouth.
