Red Thorns (Thorns Duet 1)

“It’s loveable, anyway. I like seeing you this way.”

“What way?”

“Human, I guess. Real.”

“You, however, are always real.”

She leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’m more real with you.”

Before I can grab her and use PDA to kick Nate out, she slips from between my fingers and goes to the kitchen.

I follow after, grumbling, and contemplating how to get rid of my uncle.

We end up having more fun making dinner, as my uncle and I banter and Naomi joins in the teasing. When we sit down to eat, it feels…like home.

The one I lost when I was six years old.

25

Sebastian

I’m the heart of almost every party that’s thrown on campus. My name is the one people use to invite everyone over.

That’s what Owen did tonight.

He turned his parents’ house into a club and even invited a trendy DJ that he paid a small fortune for.

That’s the thing about Blackwood. If you have money, you’re compelled to show it so you’re considered part of the IT crowd.

It’s common in our circle. My own grandmother tells me to throw parties just so she can brag about me in front of her friends. Her usual speech would be something along the lines of:

“Sebastian’s grades are so promising. His are even better than Brian’s when he was in school.”

“Football? Oh, that’s just a hobby he’ll quit once he’s out in the world. Sebastian…tell them how you got an A by just contradicting your professor.”

A story Grandma likes to retell over and over because, in her mind, it’s signed and sealed that I have the political genes that make a Weaver out of me.

So while everyone expects me to like parties, I loathe them.

The only reason I show up is to make an appearance before I disappear into a corner where no one can find me. Then my dark, twisted thoughts attack me and I usually force myself to participate in the mindless fun.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight, my blood is boiling and my fists are clenched around my phone as I search the crowd.

For her.

My toy.

I planned to make her run for it today. It’s been a week since I last chased her, even though she’s dropped hints in each of our conversations. She was asking me without words why I haven’t grabbed her and held her down.

Why I haven’t unleashed the beast on the prey.

She’s a masochist, my Naomi. Only a few days without our twisted game and she came out of her shell to implore about it.

I brushed off her subtle advances and pretended to be clueless, when, in fact, I’ve been plotting for tonight.

It’s not fun when the prey knows she’s going to be chased. Since I sensed that she started to expect it, I had to change gears.