Black Thorns (Thorns Duet #2) by Rina Kent

I should feel something other than bitter rage, but that’s the only emotion crowding in my veins and ripping into my bones.

Reina softens her tone. “And to answer your question, yes, it feels weird to see her with anyone else, too. I know it’s irrational, but I can’t digest the idea of you two being with different people.”

Asher strokes her hand as if in approval. Ever since they got back together, he always makes sure he’s touching her in some way. “That’s your opinion, but it’s not theirs, prom queen.”

“I know that. But I can’t help it.”

Fuck this.

Just when I’m attempting to get my mind off her, she comes back in uninvited.

Reina’s eyes widen as she stares behind me. I think Aspen has returned, but Reina’s lips move in a barely audible murmur, “Naomi.”

My body bursts back to life and it takes everything in me not to turn around and face her.

I don’t have to, though.

Naomi comes into view on the arm of her fucking husband and they appear to be headed our way. Her silver and black dress molds against her slim curves and hugs her perky breasts. A small amount of cleavage is visible, but there’s no trace of the hickeys I left the last time I saw her.

I made sure they were all over her tits so she must’ve used something to conceal them.

Naomi smiles at Reina and Asher, but subtly ignores me when she addresses them, “Hey, you two. It’s been a long time.”

“That’s an understatement!” Reina pulls her in for a hug, and that breaks Akira’s hold on her arm. Temporarily.

He greets Asher in his seemingly welcoming but actually stoic nature, then focuses on me. His dark eyes gleam as a slight smirk tips his lips. “We meet again, Weaver.”

“Seems Brooklyn is a lot smaller than one would think.”

“Indeed.” His smirk deepens. “Maybe even tiny for some people.”

“Could be.”

Once Naomi straightens, he pulls her back to his side and a red mist covers my eyes. The need to break his fucking arm pulses through me.

It’s even worse than my violent tendencies. I learned to control those, but now I’m on the verge of reaching out and poking his fucking eyes out.

“My Naomi didn’t tell me you were the senator’s grandson. That’s impressive.”

My Naomi.

Again.

The fire flaming inside me turns hotter and brighter. I take a deep breath to maintain my façade and stop my lips from snarling.

“He’s the senator, not me,” I say in a calm voice I don’t recognize. “Naomi and I weren’t that close, so she doesn’t know everything about me.”

Her eyes meet mine for the first time since she joined our circle. It’s brief and barely noticeable, but it’s enough to spill her deepest, darkest secrets.

The ones she’s probably been hiding since she left my apartment last night.

Lust.

Pure, raw lust.

Even when she’s on her husband’s arm, her fuck-me eyes are directed toward me, not him.

Her cry for the beast is only meant for me, not Akira or any other fucking man.

Only me.

She breaks eye contact, focusing on Reina instead. But it’s useless. Her cheeks have already turned a deep shade of pink and her throat bobs with a thick swallow.

Naomi just gave me a signal for more.

Not that I needed it.

Because sooner or later, she’ll pay for what she’s done.

I don’t give a fuck if she’s married or not.

That doesn’t change the fact that she’s fucking mine.





28





Naomi





Can the earth open up and swallow me?

Better yet, can it spit me out in a parallel reality where I don’t have to let my brain shackle my heart and soul?

Because at this rate, I’m heading to the point of no return.

My hand feels as cold as Kyoto’s freezing winter as it snuggles in Akira’s arm.

I want to pull away, to run, hide.

Run and hide and be chased.

But my brain keeps me planted in place with a makeshift smile taking over my lips.

I try to focus on the small talk Akira is making with Asher or on how Reina is asking me all sorts of questions, but it’s impossible.

My attention flits back to Sebastian every time. To the way his mesmerizing eyes have turned glacial cold while the sharp edges of his handsome face have hardened. To how his jacket hugs his wide shoulders and narrow waist. To how a strand of his hair has fallen on his forehead or how a shadow falls over his cheekbones.

I can’t stop looking at him.

Or observing him.

He awakened something inside me when he wrestled me and fucked me against the wood floor of his living room.

A beast that recognizes his prey.

A hungry being who simply can’t get enough.

I spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in bed, replaying every detail in my battered head and torturing my starved body.

What we did was wrong, forbidden, and absolutely deviant on so many levels.

And yet, I’ve been aching for more.

And yet, it’s all I’ve been able to think about.

Because that’s the thing about forbidden fruit. One taste isn’t enough. The desire keeps mounting and climbing, reaching heights that would only lead to demise once thrown off of it.