Red Thorns (Thorns Duet 1)

I still feel her shudder whenever I corner her somewhere hidden on campus or near her favorite fountain where she usually has lunch.

After Grandma’s unveiled promise of retribution, I made it my mission to not be alone with Naomi. I take Debra Weaver and her threats seriously. The last time she made one to my dad, he and Mom ended up dead.

There’s no way in fuck I’m letting history repeat itself with Naomi. So in a way, I’ve been using this down period to make a case against Grandma’s theory. If she believes that I’m no longer interested in Naomi and that I caved to her threat and stopped seeing her, she’ll retract her claws.

That decision has had its own repercussions on me, though.

Not fucking my pretty toy for weeks has turned me into a bitter, raging asshole. I’m even worse than Asher now and have been punching Josh and anyone who even looks in Naomi’s direction.

I can’t help it.

The moment one of the guys has made any remarks toward her, no matter how innocent, I’ve had the need to pummel their faces to the ground. And not only in fantasy but also in harsh, unyielding reality. I had to do it outside of everyone’s view so I don’t tarnish the Weaver name and have my grandparents breathe down my neck.

But I reveled in every second of punching those assholes. Now, I understand why Asher broke his knuckles punching a guy who was flirting with Reina in high school.

It feels fucking euphoric.

Owen usually peels me off the fuckers before I break their faces.

Since Asher came back, he and Owen take me for drinks as if that will loosen me up. It’s made me even more volatile and I can barely stop myself from starting fights for no reason other than sheer fucking frustration.

That’s what happens when addiction is taken away.

Or obsession.

Or fucking companionship.

Naomi has become a huge part of my life that I can no longer survive without.

I don’t know how it got so serious so fast, but it did.

I even asked Nate to look for the fucking asshole, Sam Miller, who dared to put his hands on my Naomi when she was nine. After she told me the story in Owen’s party, it took everything I had not to release my rage and pummel everything in sight.

The thought of her being hurt and scared cut deeper than any fucking thing I went through.

I don’t know what I would do to the bastard when I find him, but it’s probably something more violent than anything I’ve committed so far.

Truth is, I have no clue how far my limits stretch when it comes to Naomi. Especially if it has to do with the low fucking life who traumatized her.

My uncle pulled some strings with his detective friends, and they found that Sam was filed missing in records. Nate said he could’ve run away or living in another country. But that doesn’t mean I’ll give up. I’ll find the bastard and make him pay.

With his life, if need be.

I’m honestly not above that when it comes to Naomi.

Owen told me to find a pussy to wet my dick in and relieve some tension. I punched him. As if that would be possible or I’d be interested in anyone else after I had my Naomi.

No one can match up to her fire, her fight, and even her adorable innocence, and it’s not for lack of trying. Countless girls, cheerleaders included, throw themselves at me at every game. I only let them to gauge Naomi’s reaction.

Often times, she glares before she lowers her head and leaves. At that exact moment, I push away whatever girl is clinging to me.

I have no interest in fucking anyone but her.

Which brings me to the reason why I’m here.

In front of her house.

I shouldn’t be, not when Grandma could be having someone watching this place.