Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

My mouth opens, but only a wince comes out as I attempt to sit up. It takes me several deep breaths until I can speak. “Wait…”

He stops, his back shadowed by the silver of the half moon, but he doesn’t turn around.

“I…” The words get lost. What do I want? To have a conversation? To hear him say anything aside from how I’m a good, filthy slut and toy?

God. I’m starting to sound victimized and I hate that feeling.

I don’t want to be victimized.

“Can we…talk?” I finally mutter.

“One word,” he says with a calm he never uses when he whispers dirty words in my ear. “You only have the right to that.”

“But…”

“Fight harder next time, and I might let you enjoy it.”

And with that, he disappears between the trees.

I gulp, the bitter aftertaste stuck at the back of my throat. I want to follow after him, but my inability to move keeps me pinned in place.

For a few minutes, I just lie there. My gaze gets lost in the darkness of the forest and the dusty blanket of stars above. A gust of wind blows through my damp hair and forms goosebumps on my bare skin.

I slowly crawl to a sitting position, whimpering softly due to the soreness between my legs, on my nipples, my ass, my throat, my jaw. Everywhere.

It takes me effort I don’t have to stand up and put myself together. Well, as much as possible, considering my torn short and panties.

I bend down to fetch my phone that I hid by the side of the rock when I got here. I foolishly arrived at six forty-five because I was overly excited.

And that sense of thrill had bled into my everyday life.

Today, I noticed the people when I never have before. I noticed the way they walked and talked, the way they laughed and scowled. I even stopped to admire the beauty of Blackwood’s forest and its tall trees.

And it’s due to feeling alive after years of just…existing.

It’s the exhilaration after desperation.

I used to only breathe air before; now, I breathe life. The same life that I went to countless therapists to be able to get back but never managed to.

Turns out that consenting to a fucked-up fantasy might have been the answer all along.

And the thought that more is still in store for me fills me with morbid anticipation. But there’s also a bitter taste that hasn’t disappeared since he left me.

For the second time.

I pause with my phone in my hand when I find a few missed calls. One from Mom, one from Lucy, and one from Kai.

My heart skips a beat as I click on the Call button while I slowly make my way down the path to where I left my car.

I clear my throat a few times, afraid of how my voice sounds after all the screams and sobbing that transpired not too long ago.

The PI answers after a few rings. “Kai speaking.”

“It’s me, Naomi. You called me?”

“Yes.”

A gust of wind hits me in the bones as I cautiously ask, “Is there anything new?”

“There’s progress, yes.”

“Why do you sound so…serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“I know that, but it’s more than usual. You’re scaring me.”

“There’s no other way to deliver the news, Ms. Chester, so here it goes. I found the owner of the car we managed to process from that picture, but he’s dead.”

I physically reel back, a savage pulse pounding in my throat. I always thought about finding my dad, but I never actually considered the idea that he might be dead.

Maybe because, all this time, with the way my mother made it her mission to hide any information concerning him, I thought he just lived elsewhere. That he wanted to find me as much as I want to find him, but Mom got in the way.

“He…can’t be dead.” My voice is brittle. “Look again.”

“The owner of that car died due to a traffic accident twenty years ago.”

One year after I was born.

Does that mean I met him when I was a baby and then he just died?

I internally shake my head, refusing to believe my father is dead. If that were the case, Mom would’ve mentioned it, right?

“Look again, please.”

“I’ll check to see if I missed anything, but I wouldn’t be optimistic.”

After Kai hangs up, two fat tears slide down my cheeks. They’re so different from the tears of pleasure that never dried from my face.

I crouch in front of my car and quietly cry into my unsteady palms. My chest racks and the haunting noises I make reverberate around me.

There’s always been a hole in my chest that couldn’t be filled, no matter what I tried. One I thought only my dad would occupy, but apparently, that’s not possible anymore.

That hole was supposed to stay hollow, because like Mom has always said, my father doesn’t exist.

“Nao.”

My head jerks up and I stare at the eyes that were malicious not even fifteen minutes ago.

He has a flashlight on and his hoodie is open, revealing a white tee. His shiny dark blond hair is slicked back and his jaw is set.

Sebastian.

He’s back to being the star quarterback, not the beast from my fantasies who called me a slut and made me come with it.

“What is it, baby? Why are you crying?” His voice is calm, soothing almost.

I don’t know if it’s the stress from knowing about my father or the bitterness I felt earlier, but they all climb to the surface, ripping at the last screw that’s been holding me together.