Page 12 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Arabella

Everything moved as if in slow motion, the bouncer grabbing Gabriel and the collective gasps from those close enough to witness the conversation. Even the look Gabriel shot me, so full of malice and retribution, held such a weight that my muscles automatically tensed as if preparing to be struck.

“Remember who you belong to,” Gabriel snarled as he was escorted out.

I waited a breath, my lungs struggling to take in enough air before I finally turned to face Sebastian, only to find him looking down at me with an empty expression. Seemingly so unaffected by Gabriel’s words, while I was here trying not to have a full-on breakdown.

I swallowed, finding myself unable to look away from his gaze.

“Car,” he said, and it took a full minute for me to realise he was speaking to the one with the annoying watch. The brunet with the posh yet east-end accent, and a preference for large, blunt objects.

“Coming round now,” he responded, looking down at his phone .

Sebastian nodded, sweeping out his arm for me to go before him. Which was ridiculous, because I had no idea where I was going. Except, I shouldn’t have worried, because the black car with equally black windows that pulled up on the curb directly outside The Thorn was very clearly for him.

A hush came over the large queue, as if the sight of Sebastian in his mask out in the open was a rarity. I ignored the glares when they turned their attention to me, almost happy to climb inside the car.

But then Sebastian climbed in behind, and we were suddenly side by side in a tight, confined space. He was just so big. Unnecessarily so, like his mother had fed him raw eggs from a toddler just so he could become a human mountain.

The air was tense, with an almost violent undercurrent that didn’t go with how relaxed Sebastian sat. His frame took up the majority of the space, his shoulder brushing mine and his legs spread as if he wanted to impose himself in what little area I had.

I refused to look over, instead counting the streetlights as they whizzed by.

The car was nice, black leather interior with a little console in front of us that looked to hold two crystal glasses.

There was a partition that was currently down, and I realised that the blond with the lighter fetish was in the passenger side.

He and the brunet seemed to be Sebastian’s personal… men? Guards? Friends? Although, the concept of friendship was pretty far-fetched for a man like Sebastian.

I didn’t recognise this part of the city, which wasn’t surprising because it wasn’t like I knew every inch of London.

Nerves fluttered in my stomach when the car turned, and Sebastian pressed a little harder against the side of my thigh.

A thousand toxic butterflies prepared me for what was to come. I can do this.

I hadn’t realised I’d closed my eyes until a finger brushed along my cheek, catching the single tear that had dared to escape. Honestly, I needed to get it together until I was in private. Sebastian looked at the tear for a second, the drop hanging from his fingertip before he closed his hand.

I studied his face, seeing he’d lost his mask somewhere between getting in the car and when I closed my eyes.

“We should probably discuss the details,” I said.

He raised a single brow at my statement, seeming to wait for me to continue with a stoic expression.

I cleared my throat. “Of your expectations of me.” My eyes dropped to the thorns that wrapped around his throat, the tattoo both realistic and harsh against his skin.

“To pay off your father’s debt.” In the small confines of the car, his deep voice brushed over me like velvet.

His accent was slight, only pronounced on certain words and letters.

He was like a lion, his long hair a mane that swept forward when he tilted his head towards me.

The strands were dark with a few brown highlights. “How far will you go?” he asked.

He watched me like a lion too, a predator ready to devour his prey.

“Will you suck my cock if I demand you get on your knees right now?” he whispered.

My cheeks burned, and my breathing picked up as Sebastian continued to watch me with eyes of midnight that had gotten impossibly darker, losing what little light they once held. What was left was savage. Brutal.

His fingers brushed over my collarbone until he encircled my throat, his thumb pressing against my pulse. “Will you bend over so I can fuck you any time and any place I wish? ”

I swallowed, unable to find my voice.

“Will you let me ruin you for anyone else?” he whispered, pulling me closer until his breath feathered over my lips. “All to protect your father?”

You don’t want a repeat of Mum, do you?

Guilt twisted inside me, memories of the woman who’d birthed me threatening to make this entire situation so much worse.

Another tear rolled down my face. “Yes.”

He released me so suddenly, cold swept in to prickle along my skin.

“I have no interest in reluctance.”

The rejection burned hotter than I expected, before twisting into panic. “Then what do you want from me?” I asked, but he’d already turned to the window, giving me his profile.

He said nothing else as the car rolled, finally coming to a stop once we’d driven into an underground garage. His door opened, and he stepped out without acknowledging me. I waited a second, trying and failing to calm my nerves before I followed.

There were rows of cars, each more ostentatious than the last. A yellow Lamborghini, a red Ferrari and something James Bond would drive. A huge SUV was parked at the end, the brand something I didn’t recognise, as well as several Harley Davidson motorbikes.

Sebastian waited until I was beside him before he moved toward the lift at the back, the door opening at his approach.

Much like the one at The Thorn , there were no buttons, just a state-of-the-art pad where he placed his hand.

I didn’t know what to expect as we ascended the floors, but definitely not the warm and welcoming living room that was decorated in dark woods, blues and grey.

Sebastian didn’t stop to check whether I was following, his longer strides taking him across the room before I’d even stepped out of the lift.

Scampering after him I quickly looked around, finding beautiful rugs on the hard floors, top of the range gadgets, and expensive-looking paintings that brought in bursts of colour to the otherwise masculine design.

Finally, Sebastian stopped at a door down a corridor, opening it without a single glance towards me. Stepping to the side, he waited, even as I hesitated.

“Wait, will I be able to go and get my stuff?” I wondered.

His smile was cruel, just a slow twist of his lips, and maybe I’d made the wrong decision. “No,” he said, shutting me inside and then locking the door behind me.

Sebastian

Arabella hadn’t moved for the past two hours, sitting in the corner of her new room with her head on her knees. I knew, because I’d been watching her the entire time on my phone.

She’d essentially offered herself to me, and my cock had been eager to take her up on it. But despite the fire in her eyes, fear wasn’t a turn on when it wasn’t mixed with anticipation. I’d give her a day to wallow in self-pity, and then I’d figure out what the fuck I’d do with her.

My tarantula, Raven, crawled up my arm, content to just sit on my skin while I watched my new plaything.

The lift clicked to my right, and I didn’t bother to turn to know it was Caden and Langdon. They were the only ones to have access this late, as I’d sent my staff home for the evening a while ago.

“Bas, what the fuck?” Caden muttered, throwing himself down beside me before tossing Arabella’s bag onto the coffee table. He eyed Raven, even reaching over to see whether she’d move over to him. She didn’t, instead crawling further up my body until she nestled against my neck.

“I knew I should’ve locked the code,” I muttered. “What are you doing here?”

Langdon shrugged, standing with his signature smirk. “How’s your princess?” he signed, raising an eyebrow. “Locked away in her tower?”

I suppressed a growl, instead giving him my middle finger, which earned me a silent laugh in return. “I don’t remember inviting either of you over,” I grumbled.

Caden crossed his arms. “We’re making sure you’re okay. What you did with her was out of character.”

“Impulsive,” I added, and he nodded in agreement. I was violent. Uncivilised, and chaos personified. But I was never impulsive because that meant I wasn’t in control.

“So, what, you planning to keep her as your personal fuck toy?” Caden shook his head, clearly disapproving.

Yes. “No.”

“Then why?” Langdon asked, moving around so he could sit on the table facing us. He was wary of Raven, but not afraid. Probably because she’d bit him once when he was being a prick.

My lips parted, but for once I didn’t have an answer.

I didn’t know why I made the deal. She was beautiful, but I’d seen and fucked women just as beautiful, if not more so before. So why her?

Tension pulled at me, the need to destroy an impulse I soon would no longer be able to avoid. I’d always had a monster inside me, one that only relented once I purged my darker desires through either fucking or fighting. Sometimes painting, but only if I destroyed everything afterwards.

It was a compulsion I no longer contested, although fucking hadn’t been as satisfying recently.

“You sort the fight?” I asked, directing my question to Langdon.

He nodded. “Saturday night,” he signed.

“Good.” I really needed to feel knuckles against my cheeks and blood against my skin.

“You wanna hit Atlantis?” Caden asked. “I’m sure Aeris can sort you something to take the edge off.”

I reached for my whisky, the glass cold beneath my fingers. “No.” The movement jostled the tarantula, who made her way down my stretched arm to the table where Caden scooped her up.

The women I usually fucked were faceless. Picked out specifically to fulfil a need and nothing more. Yet sex had become... predictable. Even when I went to Atlantis and let my monster out, it was never anything more than a physical release.

Sex and desire were not mutually exclusive, and the thrill of wearing my mask, making demands that were fulfilled without hesitation, had lost its appeal.

My cock hadn’t twitched for anyone in a while.

Not until a certain little rabbit looked up at me with such disobedience while my hand had encircled her throat.

Reaching for Arabella’s bag, I emptied the contents onto the table beside Caden, immediately reaching for her phone. Only for it to be pin locked.

“She’s twenty-five, by the way,” he commented, putting Raven in her box before grabbing the only other thing in the bag, her driver’s licence. “Moved seven times in the past ten years, all across the country. Morris has kept them under the radar, and her mum died when she was just a kid.”

He held the license out, and I ignored the text to concentrate on the picture. It was generic, her expression soft, unsmiling.

“Morris was supposed to be used to make a statement. Are you going to do the same with her?” Caden asked quietly, his eyes boring into me.

The question created a weight on my chest, my glare sharp when I looked towards my cousin. He didn’t react to my frosty response. Maybe I should try and convince Raven to bite him too.

“She fascinates me,” I settled on, and Caden raised a judgmental brow. I didn’t elaborate that this fascination had dug its claws into me and was bordering on obsession. “Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of her once I’m bored.”

Until then, I’d just play with her a little.

That thought was still prominent an hour later once I’d kicked them out, much to Langdon’s disappointment. My muscles were tight, my demons howling at me as I walked down the west wing.

My studio was my personal space, and no one was allowed past the threshold unless exclusively invited by me. Which was usually zero, because my art wasn’t meant for anyone else.

Needing to get rid of some of the excess energy before I did something else impulsive, I picked up a clean canvas and moved it to an easel. If I couldn’t fight, or fuck, that left me with only one option.

Rolling up my sleeves, I grabbed the closest paint and got to work.

The strokes were rough, aggressive as I pushed all my frustration and anger onto the canvas.

The colours I’d chosen were dark, blending together like a bottomless night that held no hope.

Twisted lines and grotesque bodies. Warped trees and broken horizons.

I painted until my hand ached, and I’d gone through eight different images. The violent pictures in my head were nothing compared to the colours I pushed on the canvas, the expression wrong. The scene was wrong. Everything was wrong .

The demons in my head howled for me to destroy it.

With the paint still wet, I rubbed my fingers across the canvas, hoping that I’d be able to feel something other than rage.

But of course I didn’t, not even when I grabbed my knife and started slicing, cutting the painting into ribbons.

Not even when I started to break the frame, ignoring how splinters dug into my knuckles, or how my blood added to the already fierce imagery.

Memories threatened to consume me, my breath coming in pants, and only when my entire studio was shattered, broken, did I finally feel that sense of calm I craved so much, pulling me back from the edge.

Cracking my knuckles, I brushed my bloody and painted fingers against the punching bag I hung to the side.

It was already ruined, repaired so many times it had a distinctive crisscross pattern from when I’d lost my temper and stabbed the thing.

Unlike the one in my gym, this one was full of rags rather than sand.

Then what do you want from me?

Her words echoed around my mind.

My own thoughts answered, I don’t know.