Poison Petals

  Lea Rose

  Copyright © 2025 by Lea Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

  No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the creation of this work. The author explicitly prohibits the use of this publication, in whole or in part, for training or developing AI technologies, including but not limited to systems capable of producing text in the same style, voice, or genre as this book. All rights to license this work for AI training or machine learning purposes are expressly reserved by the author.

  Editing by Steph White (Kat's literary Services)

  Proofreading by Vanessa Esquibel (Kat's literary Services)

  Formatted with Vellum

  Contents

  Reading Order Note

  Content Warning

  Introduction

  Playlist

  1. Shannen

  2. Phoenix

  3. Shannen

  4. Phoenix

  5. Shannen

  6. Phoenix

  7. Shannen

  8. Phoenix

  9. Shannen

  10. Shannen

  11. Phoenix

  12. Shannen

  13. Phoenix

  14. Shannen

  15. Phoenix

  16. Shannen

  17. Phoenix

  18. Shannen

  19. Shannen

  20. Phoenix

  21. Shannen

  22. Phoenix

  23. Shannen

  24. Phoenix

  25. Shannen

  26. Phoenix

  27. Shannen

  28. Phoenix

  Epilogue 1 - Phoenix

  Epilogue 2 - Shannen

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Reading Order Note

  Poison Petals is the second book in The Broken Devotion Duet.

  If you haven’t already read Velvet Thorns, then put this down and start there because diving in here will leave you confused and with a million questions.

  This book picks up exactly where we ended in book one.

  No recap or gentle easing-in, just straight back into the chaos.

  If you have read Velvet Thorns, then you already know what kind of mess Phoenix and Shannen are.

  Welcome back.

  Content Warning

  This story contains sensitive material, including but not limited to mentions of CA (on page flashback), drug/alcohol use, blackmail and murder, as well as themes of stalking and assault. Explicit sexual scenes, light somnophilia, praise, and toy usage.

  Please be mindful of your own well-being while reading, and take care of yourselves and your mental health first.

  Introduction

  Safeword still not provided.

  Cliffhanger not included.

  Virginity gone.

  Praise kink exposed.

  Enjoy, my loves.

  You’ve earned this one.

  Playlist

  Haunted - Beyoncé

  Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

  I’m Kissing You - Des’ree

  All The Things She Said - t.A.T.u

  THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND - Bad Omens

  The Night We Met - Lord Huron

  Gods & Monsters - Lana Del Rey

  Wicked Game - Chris Isaak

  Game Of Survival - Ruelle

  WRONG - Chris Grey

  Uninvited - Alanis Morissette

  Petals and Thorns - Austin Giorgio

  Take Me Back To Eden - Sleep Token

  In the Shadows - The Rasmus

  Chains of Love - Charli xcx

  Bring Me To Life - Evanescence

  For those of you who’ve been counting down the days until Phoenix Cassidy loses his virginity—this one's all yours.

  Chapter 1

  Shannen

  “Open the fucking door, you little shit.” The banging on Phoenix’s bedroom door makes me flinch, and I instinctively cling to him, fingers digging into his arm. I’m sitting beside him on the bed, gripping him, but if his father finds me in here, Phoenix is going to get hurt worse than usual.

  “Can you hide for me?” he whispers, and I nod, but the tears are already threatening to spill.

  Not tears of fear. Not tears for myself. These are tears of fury and rage because I know exactly what’s coming, and I don’t want to hide under my best friend’s bed and listen to every punch his father lands while I do nothing.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Do not come out.”

  “But—”

  “No, Shannen. You don’t move. No matter what.”

  I slide under the bed, the carpet rough against my palms, and Phoenix crouches down to make sure no part of me is showing. He nudges my ankle further back into an uncomfortable position that makes my hip twist awkwardly, but I don't care, not when the fear in his eyes shows me how scared he is of what could happen if even the smallest part of me gives us away.

  Phoenix disappears from view, and then the lock clicks. The handle then turns, followed by the slam of wood cracking against the wall from the force of his dad’s hand.

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t lie to me, son.”

  My body shakes when I hear the brutal thud of Phoenix being slammed into the wall, followed by a grunt he can’t hold back.

  “I’m not lying. Now get the fuck off me.”

  A slap cracks through the air, followed by a hiss of pain that makes my heart hurt.

  I clamp my eyes shut so hard I see stars bursting behind my lids, but it doesn’t matter because I can still hear everything. Every pained groan that tears from Phoenix’s throat, every sickening thud of fist meeting flesh, and every brutal second he takes the blows just to keep me safe.

  “You really are a useless, walking pile of shit.”

  “It’s not my fault you don’t know where your wife is,” Phoenix answers, sounding smaller than he is, and I hate that I hear it.

  “What did you say to me?” I hear the thump, and I slam a hand over my mouth so hard my fingers ache, trying to hold back the sob threatening to break out of me. “I swear to god, repeat that, Phoenix. Repeat it, and it’ll be the last thing you ever say, and I’ll be sure to tell your pretty little blonde girlfriend that you’re kissing dirt for the rest of your life.”

  Phoenix remains silent, and I thank God—not that I’m a believer, not after everything I’ve endured for the past fifteen years. But for him, I’ll pray. For him, I’d do just about anything.

  “I’m going out, but when you see your mother, you tell her to stay put.”

  The door slams shut, and the second the echo fades, I’m already moving. I slide out from under the bed so fast I don’t even think. I just move, scrambling across the floor to where Phoenix is hunched against the wall with one hand pressed to his stomach. I almost break right there, but what I feel isn’t grief.

  It’s rage.

  Pure, white-hot, blinding rage.

  “Count to five and breathe, Phoenix,” I whisper.

  When he's ready, I ease him to his feet and support his weight as I guide him to the bed. Dropping to my knees in front of him, my fingers tremble as I reach for the hem of his shirt. He flinches at my touch, but he doesn’t stop me. He never does. I’ve seen his bruises as many times as he’s seen mine, and it never gets any easier.

  Sliding my arm around his waist, I push the fabric higher, my fingertips brushing the bruise blooming violet and black along his ribs. He won’t look at me. His gaze darts away, as if letting me see his pain is something to be ashamed of.

  “Does it hurt?” He nods once. No words, just a slight dip of his chin. “What can I do?”

  “Don’t be here when he gets back.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  His steel-coloured eyes find mine, and for a second, neither of us looks away. The pain between us—his and mine—ties us together tighter than any promise ever could.

  “If he touches you, Shannen, I will kill him. I’ll murder him, and they’ll take me away, and I won’t ever see you again.”

  “Then I’ll do it,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  He shakes his head, horrified. “No. Not you. Not ever. One day I’ll do it, maybe. But not today.”

  We were barely fifteen.

  A few days later, I was back in that house with his dad’s gun cold and heavy in my palm. My finger trembled on the trigger, ready to blow that bastard’s brains out and make him pay for every mark he put on Phoenix’s body.

  I shove the memory away, burying it deep before it pulls me under. But another one rises to take its place, one that drags me straight back to less than an hour ago.

  “You want to watch me scrub you off my skin like you’re nothing more than a stain?”

  The way his face fell in that moment—Jesus, it nearly broke me.

  I’m standing under the shower now, dragging my nails over my skin as the scalding water beats down. Each rivulet burns as it slides off me, carrying pieces of him I won’t ever fully wash away.

 
For years, he kept himself hidden from me, robbed me of the chance to decide what I wanted, and left me carrying pain I might’ve been able to let go of a long time ago if I’d only known he was still there.

  Maybe I could've found closure.

  Maybe we both could've found some kind of peace.

  But no, he took that choice away from me and fed his own addiction instead, touching me while I slept and watching me while I lived, all while letting me exist under the illusion that I was free.

  What about what I wanted?

  Fuck if I even know what that is anymore.

  I left under a new name, built a life from nothing, and locked every twisted Phoenix Cassidy feeling in a box I only opened once a year. Even then, even in those rare, secret moments when I’d pour my heart into letters I thought no one would read, I wasn’t alone. He knows everything. Every breakdown, every tear, and every truth I scribbled onto paper, thinking it was safe.

  For ten years, he’s had access to every inch of me, and I hate it.

  I work the shampoo into my hair, my nails scraping against my scalp as the sweet scent of cherry and vanilla fills the shower. For what they charge to stay here, it should smell this good. And right now, I’ll take anything that makes me believe I can wash him off my skin.

  But his scent lingers, stubborn and intoxicating—addicting.

  I tell myself I hate it and want it gone, that every trace of him needs to be washed down the drain and disappear. Yet here I am, breathing deeper like he’s oxygen instead of poison and chasing what’s left of him.

  Nothing I said tonight will stop Phoenix from following me or stalking me the way he has for a decade. He won’t just disappear because I told him to. But for my sanity, I have to cut him out of my life and out of the toxic spiral I fall into every time his name crosses my mind. I need a clean slate, and even though he'll probably never allow it, even though he'll fight me every step of the way, I'm going to make it happen. I have to.

  When I step out of the shower, I wrap myself in a towel. Water drips from my hair and trails down my skin as I pad into the bedroom, leaving damp footprints on the carpet. I reach for my phone, just to have something in my hands, something to keep my mind off him.

  Six hours until my flight.

  The good thing is I booked it in advance.

  The bad thing is that it doesn’t leave me enough time to sleep.

  There’s nothing like a near-death sprint through the airport to kick off the morning. I passed out after packing and nearly missed my flight, but at least I’m comfortable now—sweatpants, messy bun, no bra. A complete one-eighty from last night’s outfit, and god, I feel good.

  I board the plane, thankful that each step takes me closer to New York and further away from him. The flight attendant shows me to my seat, and I sink down, letting my eyes fall shut as I pull in a long breath, exhaling slowly, like I can purge every ounce of Phoenix Cassidy out of me.

  Seconds, that’s all the peace I get. My eyes are closed, but I can hear first class filling up around me, and that’s when I feel it—a breath ghosting across my hairline.

  His scent hits me instantly, and my stomach drops straight through the floor.

  “Please go away, Phoenix.”

  I don’t even bother opening my eyes when I say it.

  “I’m heading home, pretty girl. It’s not my fault I’m beside you.”

  “Fine,” I mutter, finally cracking one eye open to glare at him. “Then you won’t mind if I pretend you’re not here.”

  When I finally force both eyes open, he’s back in his seat. He’s not hovering over me anymore, not invading my space—he’s just there. Close enough to reach out and touch. Not nearly far enough away for me to try to function.

  I settle back, disappearing into the seat, and yank the complimentary sleep mask over my eyes—anything to block him out and pretend he doesn’t exist for the next few hours. But it’s useless because ignoring Phoenix is like trying not to breathe.

  “Can I get you anything, sir?”

  The flight attendant’s sickly sweet voice cuts through my half-assed attempt to escape reality, but all I really hear is the way she’s practically serving herself up as Phoenix’s mile-high fucktoy.

  “What have you got?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you need, and I’ll tell you if it’s on offer?” The innuendo is so blatant it’s practically on its knees with its mouth open.

  I don’t even need to lift my mask to picture it. I know Phoenix. I know how devastating he is and how he pulls people in without even trying. I know exactly what she’s offering, and it sure as hell isn’t peanuts or ginger ale.

  “You think you can get this beautiful woman here to talk to me?”

  I shove my mask off one eye and glare at him while the flight attendant’s smile dies on her face.

  “Oh… um, would you like a beverage?” she stammers, her cheeks blotched red as the color rises beneath her skin.

  Yeah… that’s what you meant.

  “Water,” Phoenix says smoothly, never breaking eye contact with me for even a second.

  “And for you, miss?” Her voice is suddenly too polite, like she knows she’s already screwed up.

  “I’m fine, thanks, and you can go ahead and offer him what you really want to give him. He’s not mine. Go wild.”

  She doesn’t even try to hide her relief as she hurries away, almost tripping over her own feet.

  “Not yours? Did you even hear a word I said to you last night?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  That smug smile stretches across his face, and I want nothing more than to dig my nails into his perfect jawline and claw it off.

  “I’m done, Phoenix. Now do yourself a favor, save yourself the humiliation of being ignored, and leave me the hell alone.”

  He pushes to his feet, rising over me until I can feel the heat rolling off his body—suffocating and annoyingly inescapable—and even though I know better than to get caught up in him, I can’t look away. His hands lower, bracketing my thighs, and those mercury eyes never leave mine. He reaches for my seatbelt, snaps it into place across my lap, and then yanks it hard.

  “Now leave that on,” he murmurs before sliding back into his seat.

  My mask slides back down, and this time it’s staying put. I press it tight against my face, wishing like hell I could just disappear into it.

  Minutes pass. Maybe ten, maybe twenty, it doesn't even matter. All that matters is that I can’t settle. My body is restless, and my head is a fucking mess. I’m trying to shut my mind down, but knowing he’s just there—Jesus. I want him gone, out of my space, out of my head, and out from under my skin. Instead, I’m sitting here, replaying the image of him in that hotel room—his hand wrapped tight around his cock, his eyes drilling into mine, and the way he degraded me when he came all over my chest.

  Yeah, I can’t get that out of my head.

  My brain is screaming at me that I should hate it, but my vagina, who clearly has no standards whatsoever, just rolls her eyes like I'm the problem here. So I press my thighs together hard, trying to shut her up, but it does nothing to dull this ache. If anything, it makes it worse.

  Phoenix hasn’t said a word to me since he fastened my seatbelt, and I can’t decide whether I’m relieved or if the silence is worse. When I finally can’t take it anymore, I shove the mask up, only to find his seat empty.

  My stomach plummets so fast it makes me dizzy.

  He’s probably in the bathroom right now, getting his virginity fucked out of him by Miss Sky-High.

  Good for him.

  Maybe she’ll fuck that smugness right off his face.

  It’s only a few minutes later when he slides back into his seat. I feel his stare searing into me, but I don’t look at him. I won’t give him the satisfaction. He can sit there and burn holes into my skull all he wants.

  I. Don’t. Care.