Romans & histoires Arkham Knight Ivy

It hurt so much that I placed my hand on my chest trying to steady myself, even though I knew it would barely do anything. Ivy Hart wasn’t just like every other girl I knew. That was why she was the only person who could make my heart beat like it was going to tear out of my rib cage, and what hurt the most was that she was in love with the wrong brother. Dante would never know her worth like I did. Hell, he doesn’t even know her like I do, and I wasn’t going to stand around hoping that one day he does. No. I am Voss Solano. I don’t sit around waiting. I go out there and I get what I want, and now was the perfect time to win her over, the golden opportunity presented to me on a platter, and

CHAPTER TWO | POISON IVY IVY KING After my speech of random meaningless words, the whole cafeteria went unusually silent. The sound of a pin dropping would have been clearly heard with how silent it was. The girl from earlier, Victoria, suddenly stood up and yelled. “The chick is a fucking freak. She called herself poison Ivy earlier." That was how I got the nickname ‘Poison Ivy.' Apparently, my presence and existence in this world irritates people and everyone needs to stay away from me.

The boy held his head high, declaring with pride beyond his years: "I'm Lucas! Mama told me my Alpha bloodline father is in this sacred hall!" His words struck like thunder, instantly shattering the sacred atmosphere of the bonding ceremony. Five years of exile had left their mark on Ivy. The innocent girl of the past had transformed into a dangerous, mature woman. She moved like a panther—graceful yet lethal—leading her pup toward our altar. I felt Ethan's Alpha pheromones beginning to destabilize. He stared intensely at that familiar little face, his voice emerging hoarse from deep in his throat: "This is impossible... Ivy, this pup..."

I just know that if he didn't want us, he would have immediately rejected us as his mate. Wait. Does this imply I can also reject him? She hums, and I feel her break off the mental connection in my head. I rolled my eyes. Yes, whatever. Crawl back to your hiding place in my mind. "Amelia!" A female voice yelled from behind me, and I turned to see Ivy approaching me. She wore a white off-the-shoulder shirt, fitting navy blue trousers that hugged her curvy side well, and white shoes. Her straight blonde hair was put up into a high ponytail, and it bounced off her shoulders as she went, her fair complexion shining in the sunlight. She was quite gorgeous.

she greets me. “Hi.” I give her a friendly smile. “How have you been?” She gives me a look, raising her stubborn eyebrows at me. “Not to be rude, but could we skip the small talk and get straight to business?” I bite back an amused smile. “By all means.” Ivy reaches into the pocket of her robe and pulls out a glass vial. Inside of it is a light pink liquid. She offers it to me. I stare at it warily. “Is that the…?”

My vision flickered like a dying candle. Is this it? I thought. Is this what the healer meant? I was stumbling blindly, barely seeing the road ahead, when I fell forward. But I didn’t hit the ground. I fell into arms. Strong, warm arms. My eyes fluttered open… and I saw the mask. Damon. He held me against his chest, gripping me tightly, panic dripping from his voice. “Ivy? Are you okay?” His voice cracked. His breathing was ragged. Even behind the mask, I saw it—l, terror. Real, gut-wrenching terror.

Determined, I let myself fall completely, closing my eyes and feigning death. But it hadn’t even been thirty seconds before someone stepped toward me. A boot pressed painfully into my belly. “Do you think you’re smart, Cameil?” a voice hissed. I froze. It was Ivy. “I won’t let you go until you are dead!” she added. I opened my eyes, and my heart froze. Ivy was standing over me, gun aimed squarely at my chest. “May the souls of all the people you’ve killed find rest by your death, Cameil! Amen!”

She rummaged through boxes filled with forgotten memories, her heart racing with anticipation. Her fingers brushed against a worn leather journal, its edges frayed and its cover adorned with a beautiful emblem—a symbol she recognized from the stories Aunt Cleo had told her about the coven. As she opened it, the musty scent enveloped her, and the words seemed to whisper secrets of a time long past.

--------------------------------------------------- ~ Ethan ~ The drive to Knight Manor was completely quiet. Ivy sat in the passenger seat of my SUV, her face turned toward the side window. She clutched her small cardboard box tightly against her chest, her knuckles turning white against the brown paper. She looked so small hidden inside the oversized jacket Clara had given her.