Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

If I act like the assailant, however, things could diverge in another direction.

I found out early on that I couldn’t be obvious about my purging. And that’s when it became tricky. My bursts of violence could only be hidden for so long before my grandparents caught up to my activities.

So I bottled them inside until they began to fester and metaphorically attack my internal organs like cancer, with no cure.

Until her.

The girl who’s running because I ordered her to.

Because she wants it as much as I do.

Because she has bursts of violence, too. Only, she’s on the receiving end of it.

Her direction is neither methodical nor calculated as she lets her legs carry her across the vast grounds.

My blood pumps hot in my veins and the internal festering I’ve been experiencing for years disappears. My chest constricts, but my legs stretch and I sprint behind her.

My nostrils flare and my muscles turn rigid with the promise of the chase.

Naomi flinches when her foot catches on something on the ground, but my pretty little toy doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t pause.

And doesn’t ever…ever look back.

Like a perfect prey whose only concern is to run away.

She’s fast, even with the way her dress clings to her thighs with every move. Even with how her pace is frantic and disorganized at best.

I breathe in her fear that’s permeating the air and listen to the sound of her shattered breaths that break the silence of the night. The music from the main house still reaches us, but I don’t hear it over my controlled movements and her frantic ones.

Naomi gives it her all. It’s never half-assed or a makeshift attempt at escape. She sprints at the highest speed her body allows.

Like she’s running for her life.

Sometimes, I believe she’s really scared, that deep down, this whole thing has taken on more weight than it should.

Sometimes, I believe it when she begs me to stop and tries to crawl away from me.

Sometimes, I think it’s the wiser option to stop.

But I don’t. Ever.

Because the thing that beats inside me, the beast as she called it, is unrestrained. She shouldn’t have given him a taste, because now, all he wants is more.

Even if that ends up destroying both of us.

My pretty toy is fast, despite her short legs, but I’m faster.

She’s determined to run, but I’m more hellbent on catching her.

It doesn’t take me long to be right at her heels as the sound of my shoes echoes in the air. She squeaks, literally, and that fuels me with an unrestrained lust for violence.

And her.

It’s a new urge I didn’t know I had until I fucked her on the stairs of her house.

I don’t only have the urge for violence now. I have the urge to fuck Naomi, own her, and make her scream.

I have the urge to drag my fingers through her hair, suck on her tits, and watch her fearful yet thrilled expression.

Her pace picks up and I let her believe she can get away from me. The prey tastes sweeter when she thinks there’s a way out.

There isn’t.

Not from me, anyway.

And definitely not for Naomi.

She darts around in a zigzag pattern, probably thinking she can lose me that way. I block her right, forcing her to change direction toward a cottage Owen and I visited not so long ago.

Her eyes widen when they land on the small building, probably not expecting to find it at the corner of the vast piece of land.

Her moment of hesitation is all it takes to bring her down.

My hand shoots forward and I grab a hold of her nape. The scared squealing sound she releases is music to my ears. Even her scent of lily and peaches is mixed with the primitive smell of fear.

Her limbs flail around as she squirms and attempts to free herself from my hold, to no avail.

It’s cute that she thinks she can fight me. Even after all this time of being effortlessly subdued by my strength, she’s never gone down without a fight.

She likes it, she said once.

The fight. The wrestling. The clawing.

She likes toying with the beast and provoking him for more. But most of all, she likes leaving her mark on me as much as I leave it on her.

I clutch her wrists and yank them behind her back, then fist my other hand in her hair. “Not a fucking word.”

“No…please…” Her lips are trembling more than usual. Her pulse beating even harder than the last time I fucked her against a tree in the forest.

For a normal person, that would’ve been a red flag, something to back out from, but my beast roars to the surface, taking control of me.

All I see is red.

On her skin.

On her cunt.

Everywhere around her.

“Please…please…” Her voice breaks and wetness shines on her lids.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” I push her inside the cottage and she stumbles, her legs nearly failing her before she gets back up again.

I hit the light switch with my shoulder and I kick the door closed behind us. Interruptions are the last thing I want for what I’m planning for her.

Naomi freezes, her wild dark eyes studying our surroundings. Her gaze flits around the space that’s completely filled with mirrors. Owen’s mother collects them or something.

My toy’s dark, mesmerizing eyes are big and dilated as they meet mine through the mirror across from us. Her petite lips part and her chest rises and falls harshly as the realization of where I’ve brought her slowly registers.