Black Thorns (Thorns Duet #2) by Rina Kent

And something tells me it’s not because he’s missed me.





17





Sebastian





She’s married.

Naomi is fucking married.

I try repeating that in my head over and over so I can stop myself from grabbing her and backing her against the fucking wall.

I tell myself that we’re in public, that her husband is right beside her and I can’t possibly yank her back by the hair and let my body talk to hers.

I remind myself of the days and nights I spent wondering why and hating my thoughts and her. I recall the years that went by in radio fucking silence and how I learned to survive after her.

None of those thoughts help in pushing my head in a different direction. Not when I’m barely stopping myself from barging forward and causing a scene neither of us needs.

Do I have to stop myself, though?

I could carry her petite body in my arms and kidnap her the fuck out of here. I could punish her, fuck her up, and leave her on the side of the road.

Just like she fucking left me.

She smiles at something her husband, Akira fucking Mori, says. It’s as soft as I remember, but it’s lost one quality that makes Naomi who she is—honesty. There’s nothing real about it. Yet she fakes it so well, she’s able to fool the tool standing by her side.

But not me.

She’ll never be able to fool me. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

Being in her vicinity again is filling me with more emotions than my chest can contain.

I want to get close to her.

Touch her.

Fucking hurt her.

But even I recognize how dangerous that would be. Just being near her is chipping at the steel-like control I’ve cultivated over the years.

After I chose a new path in life, I had to be in a strong state of mind so I could make it happen. For that, I built solid walls around my head and body. I adopted a disciplined lifestyle and have stuck to it.

The reason I avoid the limelight isn’t only because of the needless fuss it creates. It’s also because it doesn’t allow anyone a chance to dig their claws into me.

Seeing Naomi again is testing all my efforts.

And all of it translates into one need—to hurt her.

Maybe then, the fucking weight I’ve been carrying for years will finally be lifted.

Maybe then, I’ll get back the fucking colors I lost.

For now, I need to leave to gather my cards and, most importantly, to keep from doing something I’ll regret later on.

I plaster on my most plastic smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Mori.”

“Please, Akira is fine.” His eyes glint and I want to break his glasses and gouge them the fuck off. “My Naomi’s friends are mine as well.”

My Naomi.

It’s the third time he’s called her that in my presence.

My. Naomi.

I was the one who said that first. How fucking dare he take something of mine and turn it into his?

Burning sparks of hostility rush to the surface in need of release. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about inflicting violence, but Akira’s prim and proper face seems like the right place to relapse into old habits. Because fuck this guy.

Instead, I nod, my eyes meeting Naomi’s again. She digs her fingers into her husband’s arm for the second time tonight as her dark gaze stays on mine.

Her pupils are slightly dilated, her lips parted, and there’s a pink blush on her cheeks. She probably doesn’t even realize her reaction is visible to me.

Time hasn’t erased what I already know.

“Naomi. Good to see you again.” I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it. My lips linger on her skin that still smells like lily and peaches. It smells like that fall from seven years ago and its memories.

My eyes never leave hers as my mouth rests on the back of her hand. I want her to see that she made a mistake by coming back.

That I’ll ruin her as much as she ruined me.

Ruined us.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth and her hand slightly trembles in mine.

The message got through. Good.

I release her hand and nod at her husband, who’s been watching us with a critical gaze. “I hope to see you around soon.”

His lips tilt at the side. “Oh, you will.”

I pause at his antagonizing tone, but then I turn around and leave.

An itch starts under my skin. One that urges me to turn and take another look at her, to see the fucker touching her.

But I don’t.

I already got the message through. Now, all I have to do is wait for her to fall into my trap.

Because that’s what Naomi does. She willingly walks over the land, even while knowing it’s full of mines.

I stop by the bar, abandon my untouched glass of champagne, and order a glass of Macallan 18. I ignore the brunette bartender with a lip piercing who’s batting her lashes at me.

As soon as she brings me my order, I take a long gulp. The burn of the alcohol quenches the burn in my chest, but that only lasts for a second before the flames turn hotter.

Daniel slides to the stool beside me and winks at the bartender. “Same as him, love.”

“Right away, handsome. Your accent is so dreamy.”

He shows her his dimples. “You have a good eye and ear.”

She laughs in a flirtatious way and slides his drink over with a napkin beneath it. “Call me sometime if you want to see what else I’m good at.”