Torn Ivy (Thornfield Supernatural Academy #2)

42. Ivy

42

IVY

I stare at Torin, his question hanging in the air between us. Do I trust them? These men who claim to love me, who tore reality apart to bring me back?

The truth is, I don’t know. My memories are fragmented and unreliable. But there’s something more profound than memory tugging at me. A bone-deep certainty that these creatures matter to me, even if I can’t fully remember why.

“I...” I start, then falter. How can I explain the conflict raging inside me? The part of me that wants to run, to hide from the chaos they’ve unleashed, and the part that feels inexplicably drawn to them, especially Tate.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know if I trust you,” I say finally. “But I trust that you believe you’re doing the right thing, and right now, that has to be enough.”

Torin nods, a flicker of relief passing over his face. “It’s a start.”

“So what now?” Bram asks, eyeing the bag containing the snake warily.

“Now we figure out how to use this thing to get back,” Tate says.

“To the book,” Bram mutters, and I see the shudder that goes over him.

I let him, Cathy and Tate go ahead, but I hang back with Torin, placing my hand on his arm. “You need more than cold bagged blood,” I murmur.

His eyes heat up, and I feel a pinch of nervousness. But I lift my chin higher, not backing down.

He moves in closer, cupping my face. I don’t flinch. If anything, I welcome the cool touch. “I can’t ask you to do that,” he murmurs.

“You didn’t.”

He smiles sadly. “You know what I mean. You need your strength.”

I meet his gaze steadily. “You need yours more. We can’t afford to have you weakened right now when you have to do this ritual rewind shit.”

His eyes darken with hunger, but he still hesitates. “Ivy, you don’t have to do this. Not when you’re not... yourself.”

I shake my head. “I may not remember everything, but I know this feels right. Please, Torin. Let me help you.”

He searches my face for a long moment, then nods.

I tilt my head, exposing my neck. Torin leans in. I shiver, but not from fear. There’s an anticipation coursing through me that I don’t fully understand.

His fangs graze my skin, and I gasp. Then he bites down, and the world explodes into sensation.

It hurts, but only for a second. Then a wave of pleasure washes over me, making my knees weak, and my pussy twitches in response to him. Torin’s arm wraps around my waist, holding me steady as he drinks.

Images flash through my mind of Torin, and I tangled together in sheets. His fangs in my neck, his cock deep inside me as I cry out in ecstasy.

He growls low in his throat and picks me up, slamming me against a nearby tree. It’s small, and the trunk is narrow and shaky, but it doesn’t stop him. With his fangs still in my neck, he flicks the button on my jeans and lowers the zip quickly. I shove them down as far as I can, and then he releases me with a possessive, predatory rumble coming from his chest and removes them with magick.

I gasp as Torin’s cool fingers slide between my legs, finding me already wet and aching for him. “Torin,” I moan, my head falling back against the tree trunk.

He growls again, his eyes blazing with hunger and lust. “Tell me to stop,” he says roughly. “Tell me this isn’t what you want, and I will walk away.”

I can’t. Every cell in my body is screaming for him. I may not remember everything, but I remember this - the electric connection between us, the way he makes me feel alive.

“Please,” I whimper, rocking my hips against his hand. “I need you.”

That’s all it takes. In one swift movement, he has his pants undone and is lifting me up, his cock pressing against my clit. I adjust and wrap my legs around his waist. He drives inside my pussy in one deep thrust.

We both cry out at the sensation. It’s familiar and new. My body remembers him even if my mind doesn’t.

Torin pounds into me as he fucks me against the tree, in the snow, in this weird dimension we have found ourselves in. The bark digs into my back, but I barely notice it. I am lost in the pleasure building inside me.

His fangs graze my neck again, and I tilt my head, offering myself to him. As he bites down, drinking deeply, I shatter around him with a scream. I clutch his cock like I’m about to break it in half, and he grunts, sinking his fangs even deeper. I gasp as I soak his cock, and he groans before he stiffens and unloads into me, flooding me.

Torin’s fangs retract, and he rests his forehead against mine, both of us panting. “Fuck,” he breathes.

I let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

He pulls back slightly to look at me, his expression full of concern and lingering desire. He reaches up to twirl a lock of my hair around his finger. It’s pink and bobbed. I’ve shifted. “Are you okay? I got carried away.”

I nod, still feeling dazed, but in a good way. “I’m more than okay.”

We reluctantly disentangle ourselves, adjusting our clothes as he gives me back my magickally discarded jeans. As the afterglow fades, reality starts to creep back in. We’re still in a fractured dimension, still have a ritual to undo, and still have so much at stake.

“We should get back to the others,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward.

Torin nods, his expression sobering. “Yeah. We’ve got work to do.”

As we start walking back, he reaches for my hand. I hesitate for a moment, then lace my fingers through his. I may not remember everything, but I know this feels right.

“When did I shift?” I murmur, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“The second before I buried my cock in you.”

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“Poison,” he whispers. “You may not remember everything, but you are still inside there.”

I nod, wondering if I should shift back, but when I try, I find that I can’t. Between losing my blood, the initial shift and the damn good fuck, I’m drained. But I won’t admit it. So I smile and stay as Poison. Maybe it’s better this way. She was always stronger. Always more confident.

We make our way back to the others, my hand still clasped in Torin’s. As we approach, I see Bram’s eyes widen slightly at my pink hair and altered appearance.

“Well, hello there, Poison,” he says with a smirk. “Nice of you to join us.”

I resist the urge to give him the finger, instead focusing on the task at hand. “Did you figure anything out with the snake?”

Tate holds up the book, his expression grim. “Maybe. There’s a potential undo that might work, but Bram is reluctant.”

“Reluctant?” I ask. “Why?”

“It involves us doing everything in reverse,” Tate states.

“Okay, so we rewind. What’s the problem?”

“That snake. Came out of. My mouth,” Bram snaps.

I press my lips together, fighting the urge not to laugh at the look on his face. “Okay, I can see how that would be unpleasant,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “But if it’s our only option?”

Bram runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I know, I know. It’s just, fuck. The thought of swallowing that thing consciously. Yeah, eww.”

“Hopefully, you will be too caught up in the ritual to notice,” Cathy says.

Bram growls at her, but Torin squeezes my hand and draws my attention. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You look a bit pale.”

I straighten my spine, channelling Poison’s confidence. “I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

Cathy eyes me sceptically but doesn’t comment. Instead, she holds up the bag containing the snake. “So, what exactly do we need to do?”

Tate flips through the book, his brow furrowed in concentration. “According to this, we need to recreate the ritual circle, but with everything in reverse. The snake needs to be reabsorbed in the opposite order it was expelled.”

“Meaning I have to go last,” Torin states.

“And I have to die first,” Tate says quietly.

A chill runs through me at his words, and I shake my head. “There has to be another way?—”

“There isn’t,” he says, cutting me off. “We do this, or we stay here, like this.”

“Fuck.”

“You can say that again,” Bram mutters but inhales deeply and takes the bag o’snake from Cathy. “Let’s get it over with, so I can get back to reality and then kick some Life and Death arse.”