Black Thorns (Thorns Duet #2) by Rina Kent

“I… How the hell did you know that?”

“Because I watched everything, including how you secretly stole peeks at him or how you only looked at him among the entire football team.”

“And here I thought I was being discreet.”

“You were, but I made it my mission to be aware of everyone in my orbit. Once I noticed your interest, all the stars started to align, so I focused on Sebastian. He was a harder nut to crack since he was social as hell and camouflaged his emotions better than anyone I knew, but I saw it once. You were sitting at the fountain, headphones on, listening to that god-awful loud music and humming while sketching in your notepad. Sebastian was standing by a tree, watching you and smiling. He wasn’t passing by. He wasn’t preoccupied with something else. He stayed there on purpose for several minutes.”

My lips part. I didn’t know about that. He never mentioned it, even when we talked during those black days in the cell.

“That’s why I came up with the bet. And I don’t care what you think because it was one of the best things I did.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I murmur.

“Of course it does! You were both the best versions of yourselves together. Sebastian was more relaxed while you were happy and laughed more than ever. Now, you’re both just tragic.”

Tragic.

That might be the best word to describe us.

But tragic is better than lethal.

Reina steps closer, her eyes drooping at the side like a mother who’s worried about her child. “Are you happy, Naomi? Because Sebastian isn’t.”

“How…do you know that?”

“Unlike you, I’ve been here all this time and I’ve seen him slowly turn into a cold, aloof person whose sole purpose is to destroy others in court. He doesn’t celebrate his wins either, just picks up another case and moves along like some sort of machine.”

My eyes burn and I widen them to keep from letting the tears loose. Is it supposed to hurt this much, even though it’s the most logical thing to do?

Is it supposed to feel as if my heart is being ripped out of my chest?

“Happiness is subjective, Reina. For me, that word means something entirely different than being with Sebastian.”

“Is it worth being torn apart for? Because I’ve been there and it’s the worst feeling I’ve ever had to go through. Asher and I were parallel lines, unable to collide for so long that I thought we would never be together.”

“Parallel lines are safe.”

“Parallel lines are torture.”

“I can handle it.”

“You’re so different, Naomi.”

“I know.”

“I don’t mean that as a compliment. I miss the Naomi who expressed everything on her mind without caring what others said about her. I wish you’d find her in you someday. I wish she’d claw her way out.”

“I’ll let you know how that works out.” I smile, then it instantly disappears when I make out a very familiar face crossing the distance from the entrance.

Ren.

What the hell is he doing here? I know he’s been working with Akira a lot lately, but my husband said he wouldn’t be accompanying us tonight.

I made sure of it once I realized we’d be attending an event held by Sebastian’s grandparents.

“I’ll talk to you later, Reina…” I make some sort of an unintelligible excuse as I hasten my steps in Ren’s direction.

He shouldn’t be here. Not where Sebastian can see him. If he hears his voice, he’ll recognize him from those days we spent in the cell.

And then Ren might be tempted to tell my father his spin on what he sees tonight, and my father can’t be involved again.

My steps are long, despite my trembling legs. I’m not fast and it takes everything in me not to break into a jog and draw attention to myself.

Ren will go straight to Akira, who’s standing with Sebastian. He’ll recognize him and then he’ll probably start being his usual mocking self. Whether he speaks in English or in Japanese, Sebastian will recognize him, too, and he might start a scene…

A hand grabs my arm and I squeal as I’m dragged into a room. One strong palm wraps around my throat, the other over my mouth.

“Not a fucking word.”





29





Sebastian





My knee parts Naomi’s thighs and my chest flattens her back as I shove her against the wall.

We’re both breathing heavily; I’m not sure if the sound of harsh intakes of breath are hers or mine, or if the rise of my chest matches the fall of her back.

I breathe in the sweet scent of her lily and peaches perfume and the smell of her fear.

Fuck, how I love her fear. It’s different from anyone else’s. Hers is tangible and completely unique. Probably because it’s mixed with a secret type of excitement.

Naomi doesn’t fight me.

Her front slackens against the wall, even as she inhales and exhales in an uncontrollable rhythm.

For a moment, we remain like that, breathing in the thick air in silence. We’re in Grandmother’s tea party room, where she invites other influential wives and spends afternoons milking information out of them.

It’s dark, though, so the only thing visible is the curve of Naomi’s throat and the soft line of her chin as she rests her cheek against the wall.