He’s not wrong.
“She still hasn’t shown any signs or interest in…” I trail off, knowing that Ezra is tracking our sister’s habits just like I am, just in case we need to step in and help if things get out of hand. Or she accidentally murders someone and doesn’t know what to do about it.
“Nope.” He crunches on something in the background. “She’s still as perfect as fallen snow. Our sweet little murder virgin.”
We both snort at that.
“You met your soulmate earlier.” I remind him. “Care to share?”
“No.” He bites off. “Unless you’re going to share your… what are you calling her now? Your obsession? Your girl?”
“Mine.” I correct him. “I call her mine. That’s all you need to know.”
“Same, then.” Ezra informs me. “Once I figure out what her name is, you can think of her as mine only. I don’t even want her name on another man’s lips. Let alone his body.”
I can’t even argue with him, because I knew Ivy was mine from the moment I heard her voice. Before I ever saw what she looked like. A name doesn’t mean a single thing to men like us.
A name is nothing. Not when faced with forever.
“Time to go, little brother.” I hang up on him without another word, ready to claim my girl and get her home where she belongs.
No one pays attention to me as I climb out of the driver’s seat of my nondescript black car. They don’t turn an eye in my direction as I approach the apartment building.
There’s not even a hint of danger or a thing out of place as I climb the rusty and decrepit stairs to the third floor.
And it’s not until I’m standing in front of Ivy’s apartment that my heart starts to race.
Not in fear, or anxiety, but anticipation.
It’s time.
The key in my hand slides perfectly into the lock, and I silently turn the deadbolt before unlocking the smaller lock for the doorknob. As I ease her door open, I plan for and smile as the door pauses when the chain catches.
“Good girl.” I whisper, then take my time sliding it open.
In moments, I’m standing in her apartment, breathing in the scent that’s haunted me since I saw her in that coffee shop.
She’s asleep on a futon that I know doubles as her couch. Her dark brown hair is wrapped in a knot on top of her head, and her slender neck is exposed.
Perfect.
If there really are gods, they designed my perfect woman in Ivy. She even has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Almost too light to notice.
It’s not until I pull the syringe from my pocket that the air around us shifts.
Her eyes open as I drive the needle into her neck and press down on the plunger. The medication takes effect before she even has time to process that she’s not alone.
“You’ll be safe soon,” I whisper as her eyes roll into the back of her head and unconsciousness takes her completely. “Even if I have to break you to keep you.”
6
IVY
The bed is too soft.
The air is too still.
