VOID
It was only meant to be a job.
A simple transfer of packages from a shipping container to the buyers. But Nycto, my president, had to go and change the fucking plan on us.
Because one of the packages caught his eye.
And he wanted a taste.
Nycto threw everything in the air, sending our clubhouse into turmoil, while he made us fall in line with his new plan.
We never stray from the path.
We do our job.
We get paid.
That’s what Tampa Defiance does.
But Nycto got a hard-on, and in the process, put us all in the firing line. For what? A hot piece of ass.
Problem is, the fiery Cuban goddess we transported wasn’t going to go without a fight, or without her fucking little sister.
Thing is, the little sister isn’t so little.
Her name is Ivy.
Instantly, I knew she could be as poisonous to me as her namesake.
I don’t feel.
For anyone.
For anything.
They don’t call me Void for nothing, but Ivy sparked something in me. Curiosity at how someone like her could be such a pocket rocket and not have every man hanging off her arm.
The thing about Ivy—she’s smart.
And she’s super happy all the damn time.
The bitch wears you down.
I tried like fucking hell not to view her as a play toy. Not to think about all the ways in which I could ruin her. But every time she smiles at me with her damn pure innocence, it does something.
It wrecks me.
It burns me alive.
And I’m left reeling in her wake.
Ivy’s nothing but naive, virtuous in every way. I can’t thrust myself into her life, tarnishing the good in her with the depravity in me.
With all the shit that’s gone down the past couple of months since the sisters arrived at the club—Eva finding out Ivy’s here, them reuniting, the seller figuring out Nycto took them and then coming for his vengeance—it’s been one hell of a shitshow.
Though through it all, Nycto and Eva found their happiness together.
My president made an Old Lady out of Eva. She’s now wearing his property patch, while I struggle to deal with my damn emotions regarding Ivy.
She’s brought me out of my shell.
Made me think that maybe I could be the type of man for her. The type of man I could only hope to be.
But, no. I can’t think that way.
Ivy—she’s special.
The seller chose her because of her blood. It’s some kind of rarity that makes her and Eva genetically different from everyone else. But Ivy is a little extra special. She’s a virgin, and with my past, that’s too much for a bastard like me.
She deserves a man who will treat her right, not some asshole who was raised the way I was.
My past continually haunts me. My family made me into the man I am.
A void.
An empty shell.
I’m not sure I know how to be anything else.
With the sisters settling into club life, Ivy’s made herself at home. The thought of her being here excites and irritates the hell out of me at the same time. Knowing she’s right there for me to take, but also the fact I can’t just take her whenever I want is debilitating. She’s the kindest, most intoxicating woman I have ever met.
She’s so attuned to everything around her. That alone could be dangerous, but it might also make her an asset to our club. Ivy’s already shown that side of her skill set by working in the Chamber with the prospect, Dash, on cultivating and maintaining our crops for our club girl Trixie’s gourmet line of munchies.
Have to say, who the fuck would have thought the venture would be so damn popular? But the shit sells like fucking french fries at McDonald’s.
Then there’s Dash—the jackass prospect—who’s spending much more time with Ivy than I’d like. They spend a lot of time working together, getting the crop just right. Dash doesn’t think I see him making moves on Ivy, but I sure as shit do.
She and I were close until I realized just how fucking much she was getting under my skin. Just how much I wanted to see her fall to her knees in front of me, watch her big doe eyes peer up at me from under those lashes as she gifts me her submission.
I want to fuck her.
Make her scream out in agony until she can’t breathe.
But I can’t, because she’s a fucking virgin.
So, I stepped back.
Sure, I get that it probably confused her.
But it is what it fucking is.
I was down in the lower bunker with Ivy all the time, spending hours with her. Fuck, I was laughing with her at one point. Don’t ask me how, but I was even opening up to her, letting my guard down, showing her the real me. And that’s the problem. If I let my guard down too fucking much, I’m concerned about what I could do to her.
Now she’s off with that fucking pussy, Dash, while I spend my time drinking and trying not to have her enter my mind every three point five seconds. It doesn’t work most of the time. Especially when her sister, Eva, is up here. They look alike. Not so similar it’s jarring, but certainly enough for my chest to clench.
I’m drowning in a sea of Cuban goddesses, and nothing will ease the goddamn pain.
Instead of getting lost in the bottom of this bottle, maybe I need to sink myself into one of the club girls. Problem is, they wouldn’t satisfy my craving for her.
Ivy is downstairs with Dash, caring for the crop.
Nycto and Eva are madly in love and prepping for the Labor Day festivities starting next week.
And me, well, I’m wandering around aimlessly trying to find something to curb my appetite. Because all I can think about right now is Ivy, and how much I want to go down those stairs to be with her. Sure, I’d love nothing more than to lay her out before me, make her scream my name, but hanging out with her was fucking awesome too. She brought something out in me, something I didn’t know was even there.
As I stroll through the clubhouse, I spy Nycto and Eva getting a little too fucking hands-on for my liking. Nycto nibbles on Eva’s earlobe while they’re practically dry humping in the middle of the room for everyone to witness. He whispers something in her ear, and my lip pulls up in disgust. “Get a room,” I call out as I walk past them, into the kitchen.
I need to get away. Their PDA only makes my desire to go to Ivy even more fucking intense.
But Ivy’s with Dash.
Their relationship is developing into something I don’t even want to fucking comprehend. The thought of him being with her makes my muscles tense so damn tight, it’s like I’m being electrocuted.
Pulling open the refrigerator, I stare aimlessly inside.
I don’t even know what I’m searching for.
A cure for my sins.
An answer to life’s problems.
Fuck! I’d happily take a punch to the head to knock me the fuck out right about now. That’d ease my mind.
“Void… you wanna tell me what’s so fucking interesting in the fridge?” Nycto calls out from behind me.
He startles me, and I turn quickly, slamming the refrigerator closed so hard it rocks with the force. I’m angry, but not at him. I fold my arms over my chest, scowling in contempt at myself more than anything else. Then I can’t help the word vomit erupting from my mouth. “Why the fuck is Dash helping Ivy? I thought he was learning to be a mechanic, not a fucking weed horticulturist.”
Nycto’s face lightens a little, like he’s amused by my outburst. “You done?”
I glare, seeing red. “Am I done? No, I am not fucking done! I don’t understand why she’s always fucking laughing at his lame attempts at humor. He’s a fucking kid.”
“Mm-hmm… anything else?”
I throw my hands in the air, frustration overwhelming me. “As a matter of fact, yes. Dash is trouble. We gotta kick him out. He doesn’t deserve a patch. I won’t vote yes at the table, so he may as well leave now.”
Nycto shakes his head, but looking at his closed fists, I see the anger building inside him. “You’re done. Dash is due his patch. I get that the table has to be unanimous, but the kid has earned it. He took a fucking bullet in the bar brawl when Spark got himself in trouble. Kid’s got balls. We need brothers like him.”
With a huff, I turn and start pacing. “Don’t care.”
“This isn’t about Dash at all, is it?”
I stall, glaring at Nycto. “The fuck it isn’t—”
“Then what’s your fucking reasoning? All I can see is jealousy.” A groan of frustration leaves my mouth as I restart my rapid pacing. “You can’t deny the man a patch because he’s spending time with Ivy.”
“I don’t have to stand here listening to this bullshit from you, of all people.” I turn to storm off, shaking my head in irritation.
Nycto reaches out, grabs me by my shirt, and forces me back against the refrigerator, his eyes meeting mine dead-on. “Remember who your president is.” He shoves me forcefully as he exhales, and I run a hand through my hair. “Void, it’s time to pull your fucking head out of your ass. I get you have issues. Hell, I, of all people, understand that shit. But, brother… if you’re infatuated with Ivy, then you need to stop avoiding her. Spend some damn time with her. You were in a better place when you did.”
My face scrunches in confusion. “She’s still a fucking virgin, Nycto. She’s too pure for someone fucked up like me.”
“Yeah, she is, but she’s also strong, sassy, and so full of fucking fight and fire. She handles anything thrown at her. Fuck, brother, she’s helping us grow weed. The woman lives in an underground bunker with a room full of dying and decaying bodies next to her, knowing and willingly… including Andrés’s rotting corpse, which she bricked behind the wall without batting a damn eyelid. She’s not pure and virtuous… you’re making her that way in your head.”
He’s right. I know he is.
I huff because it doesn’t change anything. But still, I have to ask. “What if I’m too late? What if the kid’s made his move?”
“There’s only one way to find out, you fuckin’ idiot.”
Indecision crosses my mind, but if I stand around waiting and let Dash win Ivy over without me trying everything I can, then I only have myself to blame. There’s no doubt Ivy and I have a connection. We have ever since the night I took her from the boat. She saw something in me, and she worked damn hard to get me to break out of my shell.
She was fighting for me. Now I need to do the same for her.
As I walk past Nycto, he slaps me on the shoulder. “Go get your girl, brother.”
“Gonna try. It’s time for me to find out if Ivy is pure or poisonous.”
I take off, heading for the stairs down to the Chamber. I’m sure she’s there. She always is. It’s just a matter of what I’m going to find when I get downstairs.
As my feet hit the concrete slabs, I breathe a little faster. I’ve never put myself out there for a woman before. Never had to. I’ve always had them falling at my feet, doing my bidding. It’s how I was taught. I’m not even sure what the fuck I’m going to say when I see her.
As I enter the cold, dank lower bunker, the smell smacks me right in the face. The Cell always stinks with a rancid, moldy odor. Why she likes it down here is beyond me, but my little Cuban goddess is one twisted sister. Taking in a few deep breaths, I make my way toward the lab. The lights are on, and light chatting fills the air. The door is partially closed, so they won’t see me coming, but her girly laughter makes my breath catch. She sounds like a freaking angel.
“Stop, you’re gonna make it bigger,” Ivy calls out with a giggle.
Dash’s chuckle comes next, grating on my nerves.
I wish I could see what they’re doing as I walk closer.
“I thought women like big things?” Dash teases.
My top lip curls up as I stride faster, each step falling harder.
“I get you’re into this kind of thing, but can we just get to it? You’re making me anxious.”
She scoffs out a half laugh. “You’re such a pussy. Okay, hold on tight. It’s about to get messy in here.”
Dash lets out a guttural groan. “Fuuuck, Ivy, that hurts so good.”
My brows pinch tightly as I round the corner to take in the sight in front of me. Dash sits on a chair with his back to me, legs spread and his pants around his ankles. My chest squeezes as I spot Ivy. My innocent, naive Ivy is on her knees, her head between his legs, where I can only assume she’s throat deep on his cock.
What the fuck?
My hands ball into tight fists, and heat flushes over my body so fucking intense sweat beads across my brow. With my anger brewing so severe, I know I have to let it out, so I bring my hand up and slam it into the brick wall. My knuckles instantly split, blood running down my hand, and Ivy gasps, her head popping up from between Dash’s legs. She spots me before I turn to storm toward the exit.
“Shit! Void,” she calls out, but I don’t stop because if I do, I might turn back and break Dash’s face. Then Nycto would really have my balls in a vise.
When my feet hit the stairs, a wave of something crashes over me.
Regret.
That’s what I think this feeling is.
I let it go on for too long, and now Ivy’s giving her firsts to Dash.
My stomach rolls, bile burning the back of my throat as I take the stairs two at a time. I have no one to blame but my stupid fucking self.
“Void, stop!” she yells, but I don’t turn back.
I can’t.
I need something to take this pain away.
Ivy can indeed be poisonous.
And I have just gotten a toxic fucking dose.
