Black Thorns (Thorns Duet #2) by Rina Kent

A gust of wind toys with her short black hair and tulle skirt, making them fly in the air behind her. Even her jacket opens, revealing her Metallica T-shirt.

A leaf falls on her nose and she cuts off her staring contest with the sky to clutch it between her delicate fingers.

They’re small, just like the rest of her.

Her dark eyes focus on the leaf as if it’s the first time she’s seen one. And just like that, she smiles.

It’s a slow one that builds over time. Her rosebud lips purse and then they curve in the most breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen.

Her nose twitches and droplets of tears cling to her lips and chin, but she doesn’t stop smiling as she fingers the leaf.

An irrational thought takes hold of me, one that I wouldn’t ordinarily have under any circumstances. I’ve never been the irrational type. Not for any reason.

And yet, the need to go up there is stronger than any violent urge I have ever had. I want to ask her why she’s crying and why she’s smiling.

I want to ask her how it’s possible to look like a fucking angel I don’t believe in while she’s both crying and smiling.

Better yet, I want to be the reason why she has that expression on her face.

Haunted happiness.

As if neither the pain nor the joy could win, so they decided to co-exist.

But I don’t go to her.

Because if I do, I’ll ruin the perfect image in front of me. One that countless artists could try to emulate but would never manage to.

A piece of fucking art.

“Sebastian!”

My gaze strays away at the sound of my name. It’s Owen and he’s glaring, pointing at the fight so I’ll go and help him break it up.

That’s when I realize I completely zoned out from what’s going on.

Weird.

My own need for violence is barely there. It’s definitely not as strong as it was a few minutes ago.

“Just a sec,” I tell Owen and stare up at the hill.

There’s nothing.

The angel I made up is no longer there.

Maybe she didn’t exist in the first place.

Only, she did.

And I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her from now on.

If only to see her cry-smile again. Or maybe just smile.

Or just cry.

As long as I see her.





6





Naomi





I stare in the darkness, my lips parting.

Unable to resist, I reach out blindingly until I touch Sebastian’s sleeve. He’s no longer retelling the events of the first day he ‘met’ me, but I’m not done listening.

I’m not done hearing him say that he actually knew I existed all along.

He might not have shown it, but he knew I was there. Maybe for as long as I’ve known about him.

“Why were you crying that day?” His voice is quiet, almost unsure, which is so unlike him. He’s usually bursting with quiet confidence, but right now, he’s showing me a side of him he never has before. “I’ve waited so long to ask that question.”

I don’t even have to think hard about it. I remember it clearly as if it were a few days ago. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s a stupid reason and I hate to shatter your memories.”

“Nothing is stupid about you, Nao.”

My grip tightens on his sleeve. “It was my birthday. Mom asked me what present she could get me, and I told her I wanted Dad. She didn’t like that and we got into a huge fight right before I left for school. That’s why I was crying. See? It’s a stupid reason.”

“It’s not. Why did you smile after?”

“I had an angsty teenage moment where I thought, ‘Hey, maybe the world would be better off without me.’ Then I looked up and asked for a sign to show me that I’m important somehow and that my existence matters. It could have been anything as long as I could feel it. That’s when the leaf fell on my nose, and for some reason, that made me so giddy inside. Boring, I know. I’ve ruined your image of that memory.”

Sebastian grabs my arm and tugs me down so that my head lies on his muscled thigh. A muffled wince leaves him and even through the darkness, I can imagine the frown etched deep between his brows.

His lean fingers comb through my hair, stroking gently. It takes everything in me not to moan, and instead, I try to get up so I don’t hurt him.

Sebastian locks a steel-like arm over my upper chest, forbidding me from moving. “You didn’t ruin anything. You just amplified it, and do you know what that means? You’re stuck with me, baby.”

The need to cry hits me again, but I sniffle so I don’t turn into a crybaby. I have a reputation to keep, dammit. “I still haven’t forgiven you.”

“Even when I’m dying?”

“You’re not dying!” My voice chokes. “We’ll get out of here.”

“I’m kidding. I was only trying to play on your sympathy.”

“Don’t do that again.” My fingers dig into his pants and I struggle to push the image of him dying out of my head.

That thought chokes me.

It steals my breath and leaves me with muddied, chaotic thoughts.

“I’m just playing with you, Tsundere.” His voice lowers and it’s almost soothing, despite the tinge of pain in it. “I wouldn’t leave you alone after I waited three years.”