Black Thorns (Thorns Duet #2) by Rina Kent

She was pale as the snow and just as cold. Her lips were like a red rosebud and her huge brown eyes held no light.

It was sad and intriguing at the same time.

You know when a disaster is happening but you realize there’s nothing you can do about it so you just stand there and watch?

That’s what I did with Yuki-Onna. I just remained still and observed her.

Even when she stretched out her ghostly hands and went for my fucking liver. Even when I felt the frost of her touch deep into my goddamn bones.

I only watched.

Do you know why? Because deep in my mind, she was you.

And somewhere in my head, you came for payback over all the shit I told you. I mean, is there a better cause of death than revenge?

There probably is. Just don’t tell me.

I didn’t die, obviously, it was all in my head, but when I came to, my heart was beating so fast I thought it’d stop. So I’m writing you this letter so you know I’m alive.

Not that you care.

Or maybe you do.

After all, you do love me in one way or another or you would’ve stopped talking to me by now.

I guess you’re that lonely to think of me as a friend, but then again, if you didn’t have me, there would be no one in your life to beat hard truths into your skull.

If you didn’t have me, you’d drown in your delusions so deep, you wouldn’t even realize when or how to stop.

Not that you do right now.

But at least you know my opinion of your life—that sucks, by the way—but then again, my own life sucks, too.

Isn’t that the beauty of it all, Naomi?

Both our lives suck but we’re still here anyway. We still go to the post office and send letters.

You still hold on to the hope that I’m the only friend you have and I still like to imagine you as my own Yuki-Onna.

Cold, beautiful, and will one day fucking kill me.

But here’s a secret. If you’ll be my cause of death, I don’t really mind it.

After all, don’t they say find something toxic and let it kill you?

Well, that’s not exactly the line, but in our case, it counts.

Be safe. Or not. As long as you reply.

And pray that I don’t have any other daydreams about Yuki-Onna or I will keep bugging you until you actually show up at my window.

And then I might never let you go.



Akira





8





Sebastian





I blacked out.

I must be slipping in and out of consciousness.

Blurred figures appear behind my lids, their gray silhouettes dancing in rhythm with my weak pulse.

Sounds follow. They’re hollow, distant, as if coming from an empty underground arena. The figures and the sounds are mixing together and drumming against my skull.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I strain, but tight tentacles of pain keep me confined in place. I try again and a burning sensation shoots through my limbs. The drumming continues, getting louder and more intense, like a musical’s crescendo.

And then, right in the middle of the darkness, a shaft of light peeks through. It’s slow at first, dim, almost blending with the gray shadows until, all of a sudden, it bursts through, rushing toward me with no pause or deviation.

As if it knows exactly where I am.

As if I’m the only one it sees in the pitch-black.

As if it’s well aware I need to get out of the darkness.

A soft hand wraps around my face, warding off the invisible figures that were about to drag me under.

“Sebastian…please…please…”

Naomi.

In my fight against the darkness and its lure, I forgot that she was still here, alone, unprotected.

The thought of anyone touching her while I’m crippled provokes red-hot pain to flare over my skin.

Fucking fuck.

I stir, then groan when my shoulder explodes with fire. Holy shit, they never say in the movies that being shot means hanging on to life by a chapped, faulty straw.

“Sebastian? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah…baby.”

“Oh, thank God!” She sobs, fussing over me.

It’s still so dark that I can’t see my hands. But that’s not why I want the light. It’s the fact that I can’t watch her delicate features and get lost in the darkness of her penetrating gaze.

Not seeing Naomi is no different than living without the sun. I sound cheesy as fuck, even to myself, but I now recognize how much this girl means to me.

She is the meaning.

I lost that meaning somewhere between my parents’ deaths and my grandparents’ upbringing. I was an image to flaunt around, a makeshift mask of fake emotions.

Then Naomi barged in like a wrecking ball. She didn’t care about my outside image and saw straight through it. She didn’t want me because of what I am. She wanted me because of who I am.

The imperfect, flawed monster.

The beast who woke up in the hospital after he lost everything when he was six.

“You…said you’ll marry…me…” I croak, not recognizing my own voice. It’s hoarse, exhausted, and on the verge of collapsing.

“Yes…” she snorts between sniffles. “I can’t believe that’s the only thing you’re thinking about right now.”

So, it’s true.

She said yes to the most horrible proposal ever.