Black Thorns: A Dark New Adult Romance (Thorns Duet Book 2)

I’m frozen.

Unable to move.

Unable to blink.

Unable to even breathe.

My heart hammers so loud, my ears buzz with its rhythm. The air feels like sharp needles pricking at my skin and hooking against my bones.

Your time is up, Naomi.

I heard Sebastian say it, yet my brain doesn’t fully process it. But then I recall why I made the risky move of coming into his office in the first place.

I had to make him change his mind about working with Akira. That’s the sole reason I’m talking to him.

But it blurred along the way when he touched me, grabbed my wrist, and slammed me against the wall as if he’s been waiting years to do it.

Maybe I’ve been waiting years for him to do it as well.

No.

I can’t allow myself down that rabbit hole again. This time, there really won’t be any way out.

Snapping out of my stupor, I attempt to pull my hand from his, but he tightens his lean fingers on my wrist until I wince in pain.

His hard chest is flat against my heaving one. A flash of heat shoots through me as my body’s memory kicks back to seven years ago when he used to trap me.

When his bergamot and amber scent filled me with a burst of both thrill and fear.

When having him close meant my life would be turned upside down.

Seven years later, it’s still the same.

No matter how much I’ve meditated and trained my mind to rise above my bodily needs, one encounter is enough for my effort to crumble.

All my hopes of holding everything in vanish.

Like an addict, I relapse to the phase of my life when it had no meaning because he was no longer in it.

When I fought myself from booking the next flight back to America just so I could see him one more time.

Even from the shadows.

But I was only fooling myself.

In what world would seeing him one last time be enough? It’s been only two days since I bumped into him again and I’ve been in a constant state of hyperawareness that I can’t explain.

My nights are spent tossing and turning and touching myself more than I’m used to and still getting no satisfaction.

This feeling has been mounting for so long and it’s now exploding in my face.

“What…” I trail off at the sound of my breathy voice and clear my throat. “What are you doing?”

“I gave you a choice and you didn’t leave.” He’s speaking close. So close that his hot breaths, mixed with coffee and mint, toy with my skin. His proximity is messing with my head more than I’d ever admit.

“Let me go, Sebastian.”

“I told you there would be consequences to bear and you didn’t move to leave.”

“I did.”

“Not fast enough.” His free hand wraps around my throat.

A shock load of sensations shoot through me and my heart nearly stops beating.

Holy Jesus.

My whole body goes limp as his thumb grazes the pulse point, then presses on it hard enough to make me completely aware of his presence.

It’s been such a long time since someone touched me with unapologetic control. And even though I don’t want to be affected, I can’t help the burst of tingles that cover my skin.

“Talk then. You were saying something about how I should stay away from your husband,” he whispers in a tone that gets past the confinements of my ears and flows in my blood.

“You have to.” My tone is so low, I barely recognize it as my own.

“Why?”

“I told you. Because he’s dangerous.”

“What if I’m dangerous, too, but in a completely different way? What if I want to see which one of us is more immoral?”

“Don’t…”

He thrusts his knee between my legs and I gasp when his thigh brushes against my core. Our clothes separate us, but it’s like we’re flesh to flesh.

Pulse to pulse.

Body to body.

“Sebastian…stop…”

“You know that word doesn’t stop me.”

“We’re not kids anymore. This isn’t a game.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe we should pick up where we left off.”

His lips brush against the shell of my ear and I shudder both at their heat and at how he rubs his thigh against my pussy.

Stop is on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn’t come out.

And knowing Sebastian, it probably wouldn’t work, as he said. It doesn’t matter that the ring of another man is on my finger or that he saw me with said man not too long ago. He’ll see whatever he wants to see and ignore the rest.

That part has never changed about him.

He glides the tip of his tongue from the shell of my ear to my cheek. I shudder, my hand flying to his side, to stop him, to push him away, but I don’t.

My fingers remain there, frozen, unable to move as his hot wet mouth trails a path to where his hand is grabbing my throat.

“Fuck. You still taste the same.”

And you still feel the same.

But I don’t say that aloud as I let myself drown in the moment. I’ve been on guard for so many years that I’ve forgotten what it means to let go.

To feel.

To just be alive.

And right now, I’m that and more. I’m bubbling with life and I can feel it pouring in and out of me.

“This is wrong,” I murmur.

“So?” He speaks against my chin, his skin setting mine on fire.

“We shouldn’t do this…”

“And yet we are.”

“I…I’m married.”

“That means fuck all to me.”

“We’re over.”

“I never agreed to that.”

I place both palms on his chest and push back as hard as I can, breathing harshly. His lips leave my face, but his steel hold remains around my neck.

“We’ve been over for seven years, Sebastian.”

“To you, obviously, since you got married.”

“You said it yourself. Married. You don’t have the right to touch a married woman this way.”

“Says who?”

“Common decency.”

“I don’t have that.”

I see it then. The apathy in his mesmerizing eyes. At first, I thought it was his way of expressing the coldness he felt toward me, but maybe that’s what he’s become now.

An apathetic person with not a sliver of warmth inside him.

Maybe common decency isn’t the only thing he doesn’t have anymore. Maybe he’s lost other parts of him, too.

Maybe he’s corrupted beyond repair.

What happened to you? I want to ask, but I’m too afraid of the answer.

“Then you should at least have a sense of self-preservation and do as I say.”

“You mean, staying away from your husband?”

“Yes.”

“What do I get in return?”

“Your safety!”

“Pass.”

“What do you mean by pass?”

“You need to give me something.”

“Something like…what?” I sound spooked, even to my own ears.

“Agree first.”

“Not until I know the catch.”

“Your loss.” He releases me and steps back.

A gust of cold air covers my skin and it takes all my will to remain planted in place and not seek some sort of friction.

“The door is right behind you, Mrs. Mori.”

I want to go back a few seconds in time and shove that name back down his throat so he can’t say it again.

Or maybe I could go back seven years and prevent all the hell that broke loose.

Or maybe if I hadn’t been born as Abe Hitori’s daughter, I wouldn’t be standing here in the first place.

But all those options are impossible, so all I can do is focus on the now.

My shoulders straighten. “What do you want?”

“You’re not ready for what I want.”

“Tell me and I’ll decide.”

“Give me your new phone number.”

“Why?”

“I’ll text you a location. If you’re ready to find out what I really want, be there. If you’re not, I’ll move on.”

I’m still shaking from my meeting with Sebastian.

It got so bad that I had to spend a few minutes in the bathroom so I could sober up and get my shit together.

Then I drove to my father’s house, which is located in a well-secured neighborhood in Brooklyn. Thankfully, it’s far enough from our house that I don’t feel like Akira’s breathing down my neck.

I made it clear to Akira that I wouldn’t be moving around with his men following me and he surprisingly complied. I thought I’d have to fight to the death so he’d remove the bodyguards.

But then again, he’s a practical person and doesn’t mind losing a battle or two in order to win the war.

The security in my father’s house, however, is on another level. My car is searched thoroughly by his guards before I’m allowed through the gate.

I don’t have to drive up to the house, though. The only person I’m here for doesn’t spend much time indoors.

After parking the car near the back garden, I remove my heels and leave them beside my car, then step onto the grass barefoot.

The cold sensation is soothing against my hot, aching skin. It’s been that way since Sebastian touched me and spoke against my ear, awakening memories he had no damn business awakening.

And what’s with the whole, be there if you want to find out what I want?

Does he really think I’d start an affair or something?

Though I was about to when he had me by the throat against the door.

My thoughts scatter when a rustle of movement catches my attention.

A petite woman dressed in kendo gear is holding a bamboo sword and training by hitting a tree.

Her sharp, precise movements and erect posture are part of the discipline she’s been maintaining for over a decade.

My baby sister might only be twenty-one, but she has the aura of a thousand-year-old wise monk.

“Mio,” I call out gently.

She turns around, her sword held high and her dark eyes gleaming beneath her helmet. “Onee-chan!”

Older sister.

I never thought I’d like being called that until Mio said it shyly the first time.

Can I call you Onee-chan? She asked in a low voice while hiding behind Kai and that fucker Ren. Back then, she had her hair braided and wore a cute white and pink dress with matching flats. A blush covered her cheeks as she stared up at me for long moments.

I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love with someone faster than I did then.

Mio was just another innocent soul trapped in the middle of bloody madness.

She quickens her steps toward me and stops a few steps away. “I’m sweaty.”

“Come here.” I pull her into a hug and she giggles against me, her helmet nuzzling into my chest.

We didn’t use to be so touchy when we first met. Mio was raised in the strict, traditionalist way and is usually against any type of touching. Sort of like Akira, who likes physical contact only when he initiates it and on his terms.

But my sister and I have become close enough to hug whenever we see each other.

She removes her helmet and grabs a towel from a tree, then wipes her neck and the sides of her face.

Her dark brown hair is tied in a bun. If it were loose, it’d reach the small of her back, but she never actually lets it down.

Her almond-shaped eyes give her round face a softer edge that fits with her tiny voice. Sometimes, I have to lean close to hear her talk.

“Papa told me you were coming back, but he didn’t tell me more, and Kai isn’t cooperative.” She speaks in a sophisticated American accent, thanks to all the homeschooling and prim and proper private teachers she’s had since she was born here.

“When is Kai ever cooperative?”

“You’re right.” She smiles. “I’m glad I can speak to you face-to-face and not through a phone.”

“Me, too, Mio.”

We talk about Japan and the cherry blossoms that she loves so much. Then Mio tells me about her studies and her kendo training that she’s obviously obsessed with.

When she’s done, I clear my throat. “Do you have something else to tell me?”

She traps her bamboo sword between her legs as she picks at the grass. “Like what?”

“Kai was actually cooperative for once and told me what’s going on.”

She frowns. “That fox. He promised not to get you involved.”

“You think he promised, but he probably manipulated you into thinking that, Mio.”

“Probably.”

“So?”

“So what?” She’s still gripping grass in her fists.

“Are you going to tell me about agreeing to marry some Russian mobster?”

“Papa said it’s to help our family.”

“Your papa only cares about himself, Mio. You should know that by now.”

“But…I don’t want him or you in danger.”

“Me? Why would I be in danger?”

“Papa said you and Mori-san could be targeted because of Mori-san’s new business endeavors. He’s having problems setting up his new company because of all the customs bureaucracy, no? If I marry into the Russians, they won’t only help, but they’ll also provide you protection.”

That bastard.

He knew exactly which cards to play to make Mio agree. Father and I are her world, and she’d agree to hell if it means protecting us.

“Akira and I aren’t in danger. And even if we were, we can protect ourselves.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Mio…”

“I’ll play my part, too, Onee-chan.”

“But the Russian mafia is dangerous.”

“Mori-san is also dangerous, and you’re doing just fine.”

“That’s different. Akira was my friend before and he’s not a mobster. The Russian mafia is notorious for its ruthlessness, and Dad plans to marry you off to one of their leaders. They’re known for their violence and could hurt you, Mio.”

She jumps up, holding her sword in a defense position. “I can protect myself.”

I shake my head but don’t press it. Instead, I choose to spend a peaceful day with her.

We have lunch together and talk about everything and nothing. We’re basically each other’s only friend. Being with her brings back memories of college days when I didn’t really have friends.

Except for Lucy and Reina at the end.

Sometimes, I consider calling them and getting together, but the thought of putting them in danger has always stopped me. Except for that one time I got drunk and texted Reina and nearly poured my heart out to her.

Mio is pouting when I have to leave at the end of the evening. So I promise to spend more time with her now that I’m back. Something that makes her smile and wave me off.

I drive home, my head still filled with endless thoughts and theories.

Spending time with Mio, no matter how fun, didn’t purge away what happened this morning.

I can’t purge away the image of Sebastian’s hand, lips, and words.

Hell. I can’t even forget the sound of his voice.

I didn’t leave him my phone number before I stormed out of his office, but I keep checking my messages anyway, as if he’d magically get the number.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten my number behind my back.

Stopping the car in the driveway, I take a moment to gather myself, then I make a few work calls and schedule some meetings. I take the legacy Mom left behind seriously, even if only from the administrative side. Amanda, who was Mom’s assistant and is now mine, takes care of diva designers and all that jazz.

Work keeps me busy enough to not think about other things, but that was before.

I have a feeling it will no longer apply now that my world has collided with Sebastian’s again.

After finishing my check-in calls with Amanda, I step into the house.

I pause at the sound of arguing coming from Akira’s office. This late?

For the seven years I’ve been married to him, Akira has always been as meticulous as fuck about his working hours versus his resting ones.

Any time after seven is his ‘me time’ that no one dares to interfere with.

Also, arguing?

The occurrence is so rare that I stop and listen outside his office, but I can’t really hear the words. Just a male voice.

And it’s not Akira’s.

I knew my husband wouldn’t be arguing. The man doesn’t raise his voice and still accomplishes whatever he sets out to do.

Sometimes, it feels like he’s a samurai in modern times. Or maybe a lethal ninja.

I’m about to continue on my way when the door of Akira’s office swings open and Ren storms out, slamming it shut behind him.

He comes to a screeching halt upon seeing me, his face contorted as he bows in greeting.

I don’t bow back. “Ah, I should’ve known the arguing would be all you.”

“Are you happy?”

I smile. “About your misery? Very.”

“That doesn’t erase yours, Ojou-sama,” He mocks.

“No, but it’s good to have a companion.”

“Who says I’m miserable?”

“You clearly are. Akira is effectively getting on your nerves. Finally met your match, huh?”

“You wish. No one gets to me, not you and not your psycho husband.”

I pat his shoulder, pretending to dust something off, then whisper, “Watch your back. He already has you in his sights.”

Ren stiffens as I pull away, his smaller eyes narrowing on mine before he strides off. I watch him with a satisfied smile. That rattled him enough to make him paranoid for a while.

“Aren’t you a little daredevil?”

I turn around at Akira’s voice. He stands in his doorway, leaning against the frame, and is wearing his yukata, which means it’s definitely his ‘me time.’

“That makes two of us,” I mock.

He adjusts his glasses. “How was Mio-chan? That is, if you really spent all day with her.”

“She’s fine, and whether or not I spent my day with her is none of your concern. You don’t tell me what to do, last time I checked.”

“Hmm. It’s back.”

“What’s back?”

“That fighting spirit. You lost it for a while. I wonder what triggered it, my dear wife.”

Shit. I should’ve known he’d focus on that. This is Akira, after all.

From now on, I need to be more careful.