Page 2 of Ivy’s Poison

Her eyes fluttered shut as her body demanded mine to climax. “You’re such a tease, Champ.” Then her hands wrapped around my neck. It took both to gain any power over my size.

I was drugged, sexed, and now possibly dying…

I had never been so turned on.

As my balls tightened and my vision blurred, I stared at her, vowing to find her, fuck her, then kill her. I croaked out, “What’s your name?”

She panted, her tunnel tightening around my cock. “Ivy.”

Slipping from consciousness, an absolutely life-altering orgasm ripped through me and into her. My last thought was, I’m going to be your poison, bitch.

Bors

3 years later…

There is a group of twelve men who fight for the wrong side of heaven—the Cavalieri Della Morte. We were viewed as the evil beings who killed for Arthur, the leader of Tabella Della Morte – the table of Death. Those people could say what they wanted, but the truth is darkness was a requirement to step into the pitch-black reality of hell on earth. The darkness most everyday citizens didn’t want to or couldn’t even see.

I, Bors, saw it and refused to turn away.

The reasons why Arthur sent me to assassinate someone were not always known to me, but I did understand the reasons on this grave day that would forever haunt me.

Through the trees, I saw the car parked in a clearing in the middle of swampy woods in Louisiana. My encrypted email from Arthur gave me the information needed to find this man. I had his name, job, residential address, his picture… but none of it prepared me for the sight waiting to be found.

No cars nor witnesses in the vast wilderness were present as I crept toward the dark blue Mercedes sedan with only the driver’s side window rolled down. The Louisiana summer heat had sweat dripping from my forehead. I couldn’t understand why, with the engine off and no air conditioning, this man wouldn’t want more ventilation.

Once to the back of the vehicle, I stayed crouched. Had Arthur hired one of my fellow brothers, this man could have been shot from a distance, but he sent me on this task. That meant this man was to suffer. A specialist of blades—small, large, sharp, or dull—my favorite—it didn’t matter—I craved blood. Arthur craved justice. We made for a perfect balance in the machinations of assassinations.

The side mirror of the car showed the man very distracted by something in his lap. He held very still, but little pants and groans quietly escaped him as if sexually aroused. The vehicle had already been parked by the time I caught up to it on foot, but my own recon surveillance told me no one was in the car with him. If he wasn’t getting a blow job, I was dumbfounded to what would capture his attention and have him licking his own lips in a heated manner.

Had I only had the wisdom to prepare myself...

Having been an assassin for many years, at thirty-four-years-old, I thought I had seen the worst of the worst.

The man I was to assassinate had been so preoccupied with the activity in his lap, he never caught my reflection in his side mirror as I approached, staying low to the ground and alongside the trunk and past the rear passenger door. My grip tightened on the leather handle of my Jagdkommando tri-edge dagger, one of my favorite weapons. The spiral blade caused extensive damage when thrust properly. Surgeons had a hell of a time trying to put you back together. That is if you made it to one before bleeding out. Historically, no one ever had after I’d gotten a hold of them.

The same would soon go for the driver of the car.

After stealthy silence, I made it to the driver’s door undetected. With my dagger in my right hand, I quickly stood to jam it in the man’s throat, but when I finally caught a glimpse of the man’s lap, I froze. Time slid into slow motion as I gathered intel, quickly understanding why Arthur chose me. And why only one window was down. The driver had no pants on and was staring at his own erection. He wasn’t touching it.

He was collecting flies.

Seven flies hovered and landed on his dick, and it was turning this sick fucker on. The tip was wet with pre-cum. Had that been the worst of it, it wouldn’t have left me so mentally scarred. It’s what was also on his dick that had my ears ringing with adrenaline. This man’s cock was soiled with blood. I blinked, having never seen something so twisted in my life. Then my mind raced, trying to comprehend where the fuck the blood had come from.

My eyes scanned the car…

In the back seat of the expensive vehicle was a toddler. The little girl had on a pink flowered dress that had been ripped down the middle, top to bottom, to expose her body. Tiny legs had been pried apart, where flies were now also gathering. What the two flies were feasting on was her innocence violently torn.

Oh my fucking God.

The man only had one window down because he wanted to control the insects—direct them to himself for a fetish I didn’t know existed.

Jesus… No.

The back seat was soaked with the child’s blood. The little girl, no older than three, had simply been too small for such a horrendous invasion. The way her little blue eyes vacantly stared at the ceiling, and how her chest nor stomach had yet to move with inhales or exhales, I knew this child was dead.

Evil?

It’d been said that my brothers and I were evil for our line of work. Those vociferous people had yet to see what I was called to destroy.