He didn’t wait for an answer, but tightened his hand in my hair and pulled my mouth to his. The world shifted again: yet another life plucked from the mayhem of existence and tied to mine.
“Christ… Seph…” Cabe buckled, falling to his knees and taking me with him.
I felt powerful, even as my knees hit the ground and Cabe pulled my mouth back to his, demanding from me just as Noah had. I felt more powerful than I had ever felt before, and the hairs along my arms and legs started to prickle with anticipation. Cabe used his grip of my hair to keep my mouth fused to his as his other hand slid down my back, pressing against a spot low on my spine. I was drowning in feeling, having completely forgotten about the plan, about the messenger and the bomb. I was in awe that I could kiss them without blacking out or feeling the uncomfortable itching. I was in awe of the weight of their feelings as the fragile thrum of their heartbeats kicked up inside my chest. I was full… complete. For the first time in my life.
Cabe inhaled raggedly, tilting his head back and breaking our kiss. His hand flexed in my hair, and when he opened his eyes again, the look on his face was somewhere between frustrated desire and undiluted reverence. I saw a flicker of light out of the corner of my eye and I quickly scrambled away from Cabe, falling back against the floor.
The valcrick was back!
Noah pulled me to my feet, and I started madly tugging my hair into a braid over my shoulder, anything to make it look like I hadn’t just been hiding in the closet, doing exactly what I had been doing. Knowing the guys as I did, it was only a matter of seconds before they recovered from their shock, pressed in on me from all sides, and demanded answers.
“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for the door, my voice weak. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I’m sorry I pushed you away and didn’t give you a chance. And… and I’m sorry for… for… well, you’ll find out soon.”
I pushed out of the cupboard and ran toward the front of the gym, catching sight of Clarin as he moved past me and dove into the closet that I had just vacated, slamming the door behind him. He was on a mission, and I appreciated that he was running interference… but I wished I could have said goodbye. Instead, I ran towards the parking lot and straight into Poison’s arms, holding my friend as tightly as I could.
“Everything will be fine,” she soothed me, her hands patting down the hair that I had unsuccessfully tamed.
We both knew that she was lying.
“I love you,” I replied, squeezing her extra hard. “Tell me something before I go. Something to distract me.”
“My name isn’t really Poison,” she answered automatically. “I was born Annabeth Hailey Singala, and on my birth certificate, next to ‘Father’, is the word unknown. When I was six, my mom took me to Seattle and I ran away to hunt down my father. I knew it was Weston: she had told me, early on. Or… well, I suppose she had cautioned me rather than telling me anything. But I didn’t listen to her. I wanted to find my father. I was sure that he would want to know me. Anyway, I turned up at the Shangri-La and his security team detained me. When they found out who I was, they laughed at me. I yelled at them that I had a right to see him, and I didn’t stop yelling until the man himself stepped out of the hotel. He took one look at me, said the word, “poison,” and got into his limo, driving out of my life before even giving me a chance.
“I was an idiot, back then. I thought he was giving me a name. I thought he had all of my baby clothes in a shoebox beneath his bed, the name ‘Poison’ stitched onto each item. I thought he considered me his long-lost child just as much as I considered him my long-lost father. I went home and told everyone that my name was Poison. I insisted on it. I wouldn’t answer to anything else.”
Poison trailed off, and I realised that I was now comforting her as she sagged against me, releasing a story that I was sure she didn’t often relive.
“I waited years and years, but he never came for me. He kept having bastard children and I started hearing about all the others. Clarin had always been a brother to me, but he had rejected Weston as his father long before me. When the Adairs and Quillans broke away from Weston and came to Maple Falls, Weston finally came to me. He wanted information on his real sons. And that’s when I realised… I wasn’t his Poison. I was his poison. Me and all the other bastards: we were his hatred manifest: the reason he kept having children; the evidence of his failure, whatever the hell he was trying to achieve.”
Poison didn’t cry, but she released a shuddering breath before pulling upright and away from me. She had just told me something monumental about herself, and though I knew I shouldn’t, I wanted to return the favour. I wanted to let her in.
“Me,” I told her quietly, pulling open the door of Quillan’s car. “He was trying to achieve me… or the solution to me. I’m the Voda Heir.”
I closed the door on Poison’s stunned face, unable to prolong what I needed to do any longer.