Black Thorns (Thorns Duet #2) by Rina Kent

A low chuckle escapes him but turns into a wince as it dies out. “That’s your overactive imagination coming out to play.”

“It could happen.”

“It won’t. They brought us here for a reason and they haven’t accomplished it yet.”

I sigh, carefully leaning closer to him. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in all this because of me.”

“It could be the other way around.”

“What?”

“I believe we’re both here because they plotted this all along for a specific purpose. It might have to do with my parents or my grandparents.”

“Were your parents really killed?”

“I believe so. There was someone who came to collect the painting from the accident site. It was a family treasure Mom bought not long before the accident and insisted on taking with us. Then I think I heard them in the hospital talking about the painting and Mom. There’s no way all of that could’ve been a coincidence.”

My heart aches for him, at the horrors he’s suffered ever since he was a child. No one should be marked so brutally that way.

“Who do you think killed them?”

He throws his head back against the wall with a grunt. “I don’t know. It could have been these people. Or maybe my grandparents had something to do with it.”

“Why would your grandparents hurt your father?”

“Because he disobeyed them by choosing Mom.”

“Oh.” I snuggle into his side, needing to feel his warmth, but when he winces, I pull back.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to keep holding the shirt.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

“It stopped a while ago. It just hurts like a motherfucker now.”

“I’ll hold it just in case.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Just in case…”

“Are you worried about me?” I don’t miss the amused edge in his tone. He’s always playful, even in dire situations.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I thought you hated me with how you insisted that everything ends between us, Tsundere.”

“I do hate you for playing with my heart and making a bet to destroy my naive feelings. I hate you for making all my fantasies come true just to shove them down the cliff of harsh reality. But I’ll never hate you enough to wish you harm. That’s just not me.”

I suck in a sharp, fractured breath, surprised at the hot tenor of my words. Maybe that’s all I’ve wanted to say ever since I found out he’d made a fool out of me but never had the right frame of mind to form the words.

Now that they’re out, I feel both relieved and stuffed. I want to cry again because of how much it hurt. How much I missed him.

How much I’ve hated myself for missing him.

“It was never a bet, baby.” His voice is quiet, despite the pain interlacing it.

“I was there and clearly heard that it was a bet.”

“Technically. In reality, however, I never meant it as such.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t accept Reina’s dare?”

“I did, but not for the reasons you think.”

“Then what were your reasons?”

“If I didn’t go with it, Reina would’ve had Josh do it.”

“Gee, thanks. I’m honored it was you and not the creeper Josh.”

“You’re being sarcastic, which means you’re on the defensive.”

“Am I not allowed to be?”

“Not when you haven’t given me a chance to explain my reasons.”

“There are many of them?”

“It’s one reason, actually. You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. If it were up to me, things wouldn’t have started with a bet. But maybe they had to.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I couldn’t let Josh have you. My reaction was irrational, but I couldn’t just allow it to happen.”

“You didn’t even know I existed before we bumped into each other that time.”

“Of course I did.”

I frown, staring in his general direction despite the darkness. “No, you didn’t.”

“Then how do you think I figured out all those tidbits about you? Such as your love for metal music or your sarcastic tendencies?”

“I figured Reina or one of the cheerleaders gave you pointers.”

“They didn’t need to. I was already watching you.”

“You were what?” I nearly choke on my own words.

“I watched you, baby. For three years.”





Sebastian





Three years ago





It’s fascinating how someone feels their bad days so deeply when they don’t even notice their good ones.

That someone is me.

Bad days always start with the same thing—the need to hurt.

It pulses inside me like there’s a second person attempting to get out but fails to find a way to.

It beats and claws.

It murmurs, then screams.

There’s no tuning it out and ignoring it won’t help. The only way to placate it is with the promise for violence.

I’m barely focused on Owen and Asher’s conversation as we walk from our cars to the school building. Maybe I can beat someone the fuck up at today’s practice.