Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

After last night, there are no other words to describe what I feel right now. Not only did I have a heart-to-heart with Sebastian, but I also ripped open the stitches and allowed a weight to lift off my chest for the first time since that red night.

The therapists don’t count. They thought my negative emotions toward my mother were toxic. That I was destroying the mother-daughter relationship we could be having. They secretly judged me for it and I secretly saw my mom reflected on their faces.

Sebastian, however, didn’t. He didn’t call me a freak or irrational.

He understood.

Not only that, but he told me things about himself, too. Instead of going back to the party, we kept on talking. Me, about my dad and how I hired a PI to find him just so he could tell me that he’s most likely dead. And Sebastian told me about his uncle and how they have a power struggle against his grandparents.

Nathanial Weaver intrigued me since I met him that time. Not only is he cool, collected, but he also seems to be the only person Sebastian respects enough to hold on a high pedestal.

I say respect because I don’t think he’s capable of caring. At least, not in the traditional sense of the word. But even that doesn’t stop me from celebrating the fact that I feel more emotionally close to him than I have been with anyone else before.

Even Lucy doesn’t know about how deep my mess goes. She’s aware of my ‘daddy issues’ but not really my ‘mommy’ ones. She always looks up at Mom and says she’s this strong, independent woman that she strives to become one day.

That makes one of us.

After I got home last night, I was in such a delighted mood that I sat down and wrote a letter, too. This time, I sent it.



Dear Akira,

I know you said you don’t want to listen to me whine or talk about my problems, but you’re going to. Deal with it or stop writing me.

But even if you do, that doesn’t mean you’ll get rid of me. In case you didn’t notice, you’re kind of stuck with me and my antics. Again, deal with it, you grumpy asshole.

You said I’m just someone who’s pretending their life is hard and that I whine more than I take action. You might be right, but fuck you, Akira.

Fuck you for judging me and kink-shaming me because it makes you feel good about yourself. Are you the morality police? Or are you just scared about trying out your own kink? And don’t tell me you have none, because you mentioned breath play porn once and that’s too specific to not be a fetish. But instead of finding someone who gets off on the same thing, you probably only jerk off to staged porn.

Fuck you for implying that I’m pathetic and sick just because I went for what I want.

Fuck you for thinking anything two consenting adults do is wrong when you’re the one who’s screwed in the head.

Because you know what? I’m brave enough to stand up for what I want. Instead of running away, I barged in the middle of the scary storm and embraced it. What did you do?

Aside from hiding behind your pen and jabbing at me to enable your grandiose self-esteem.

Guess what? That self-esteem of yours is merely inflated, just like the thought that you actually have any type of moral compass.

And no, Akira, I don’t have that compass when it comes to my needs. And the person you described as being as perverted as I am is the one man who didn’t judge me.

Unlike you, asshole.

Go hang a talisman. You’ll need it when Yuki-Onna storms through your window at night.



The very opposite of love,

Naomi



He’ll probably send back a scathing reply, but I couldn’t care less at this point. I’m not letting Akira or anyone else tell me that I’m doing something wrong. Not after what happened last night between me and Sebastian.

And it’s not only about how I’m walking funny today, despite the number of oils I rubbed on myself or the hours I spent soaking in the bath.

It’s not about how utterly satisfied I am, both physically and mentally.

It’s the fact that a bridge has been built between us. Before, we were only ever forced to be beast and prey.

Now it’s different.

Now, a new emotion has blossomed between us and I have every intention of exploring it. That’s part of the reason why I woke up in an excellent mood.

All I want is to go to school and see his face.

Maybe kiss him, too.

Maybe watch him practice.

Maybe provoke him so he’ll chase me.

My wild train of thoughts scatters when the sound of arguing comes from the living room.

Mom is talking rapid-fire as two male voices try to interrupt her. I usually wouldn’t bat an eye at the sound of people in the house since she brings her staff over for meetings all the time.

The fact that they’re all speaking in Japanese is what makes me pause.

“I said no.” Mom’s voice is hard—more than usual, that is—and I can sense tendrils of her anger simmering to the surface.

“You don’t have a choice Sato-san,” a man says with a hint of suppliance.

“Never have, for that matter,” another one speaks, and the calm in his tone somehow causes sharp needles to erupt at the base of my neck.

“Get out of my house,” Mom shrieks. “Both of you, out!”

“You’re making a grave mistake, just like you did twenty-two years ago,” the first one says. “Be rational, Sato-san.”