Page 14 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Arabella

My stomach woke me, the angry sound a deep rumble that almost vibrated the silent air.

Groaning, I sat up, my cheek stinging from where I’d fallen asleep against the carpet.

I’d kept to the corner of the room, my back aching from the horrible angle.

I eyed the bed, a beautiful king with soft sheets and even softer pillows. Yet I decided to sleep on the floor.

I wasn’t any less safe in the bed than I was here, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to sleep there. Here I was tucked away, hidden from the door at first glance.

Not that it would take much effort to find me. I debated whether to sleep in the tub, but the bathroom had no lock, and the bath would’ve been cold and just as uncomfortable. But at least I had my own private bathroom.

A prisoner with her own toilet, how lucky was I?

Rubbing at my cheek, my eyes burned from where I’d fallen asleep crying. Not my best moment, I’d admit. But now that was out of my system, and I could get myself together and not wallow in self-pity.

Standing, my stomach decided to play the entire orchestra, strings, percussions, brass and all. I actually couldn’t remember the last time I ate.

A nice older lady with a warm smile had brought me tea hours ago, but that sat untouched on the bedside table. She hadn’t said anything more than a polite hello before leaving, as if Sebastian locking crying women in his guest bedroom was a regular occurrence. I wouldn’t be surprised.

The size of the room was bigger than my entire flat, decorated just as tastefully as the other rooms I’d been marched through. The drawers were empty, as were the cupboards in the ensuite. There were no toiletries. No shampoo or body wash. Not even a bar of soap for me to clean up with.

My stomach pulled me towards the door, and to my surprise, it was unlocked.

Holy shit. Was I hallucinating? Nope, the door was indeed unlocked, but I kept my happy dance to myself for now. It wasn’t like I could just run away.

You wouldn’t leave me like Mum did, would you? You can fix this.

My mind echoed the words, You can fix this.

I wanted to believe it, but even in my head it sounded like a lie, because the truth was that I didn’t know what fixing anything looked like anymore. It didn’t matter how many times I tried to convince myself Dad would change, that he’d get better and finally see me, it never seemed to happen.

If I weren’t so hollowed out by disappointment, I might’ve laughed.

The kind of broken laugh that scraped its way out from somewhere deep, where memory still clung to the ghost of a man who once tucked his daughter in at night. Read her bedtime stories and kissed her cut knee.

Before Mum left .

Before everything turned to shit.

The hall was dark when I peeked out, the air deceptively still.

I expected to be ambushed as I took my first step, my bare feet silent as I padded back down the hallway towards what I hoped was the living room.

The place was huge, the centre a large open space with tall windows that revealed a stunning view of the city at night.

Light filtered in from outside, allowing me to quietly look around until I finally found the kitchen.

It was just as expensive-looking as the living room, if not more so. Pristine marble with golden veins and dark accents. The cabinets themselves were black–what a surprise–the entire aesthetic giving off ultra luxury.

I took a single step inside, intending to head towards the large fridge when I heard a wispy cry break through the night.

Pausing, I concentrated on the sound, slowly moving back so I could peek around the corner.

A woman arched her back against the wall, her legs wrapped around the waist of the blond man.

He was fully dressed, while her breasts bounced with every rough thrust, her dress bunched up around her waist.

He didn’t make a single sound while she moaned and groaned, her eyes closed and lips parted. His hands held her thighs, gripping so tight there were indents in her flesh.

I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away, rooted to the spot and caught somewhere between disbelief and embarrassment. I wasn’t exactly a prude, but I hadn’t been expecting that .

The moans grew louder, echoing off the walls in a rhythm that was almost obscene until the blond released one thigh, only to press his hand against her mouth. The woman didn’t seem to care, her hips tilting to better meet his almost violent thrusts .

She came with a muffled scream, and seconds later the blond stilled with his own release.

Holy shit.

Another second or so passed before he dropped her, and the woman immediately began to adjust her clothes. A cleaner, I thought, noticing the feather duster by her feet. Well. At least someone was keeping things… hygienic.

I stepped back before I could be seen, heart thudding, and hurried across the kitchen to the fridge. A burst of cool air hit my face when I opened it, sharp against the heat still burning in my cheeks. This thing was loaded, and my stomach rumbled again.

A knock on the fridge door startled me, my head hitting the side when I jumped at the sudden sound. Pulling back, the blond smirked down at me, the light from the fridge washing over him in a sickly glow.

“Sorry,” I stammered, closing the door. “I didn’t mean to…” Watch you have sex. I was conscious of my cheeks continuing to tingle but decided to ignore it like an adult. “I’ll just go back to my room.”

His smile was friendly as he lifted his hands, and I was thankful to any god that was listening that he couldn’t read my mind.

But then he realised that I couldn’t read his hands, his brows drawing together before he pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly typed something before turning it to face me.

Hungry? it read, and looking up, I nodded.

His smile widened, which only highlighted how handsome he was. His hair was fair, with random darker strands that went well with his naturally golden skin. His eyes were a light brown and seemed to flicker like candlelight.

Weirdly he smelt like something burning, and I was pretty sure that was soot smeared on his cheekbone. I’m Langdon. The other prick’s Caden .

“I’m Arabella, but people call me Ara.”

Langdon gave me a silent laugh, head tipping back to reveal the burns along his throat. Oh, I know who you are. His smile twisted, and maybe he wasn’t as friendly as I first thought. What’s so special about you then, ay?

“Go home, Lang,” came a dark, familiar voice. “Je vois que vous la surveillez bien.”

I flinched, my eyes immediately finding Sebastian standing in the doorway.

But he didn’t look at me, his attention entirely on the other man. Langdon peered back over his shoulder, only for his penetrating gaze to return to me. With a wink he stepped back, passing Sebastian without another exchanged word.

Sebastian closed the distance between us, and I braced myself against the kitchen cabinet.

His hands curled onto the marble counter behind me, not touching but close enough that he stole all my oxygen.

“What are you doing out here, belle ?” he asked.

He was like a cat toying with a mouse seconds before it was to be eaten. “Who let you out of your room?”

I tipped my head back, because apparently, I had a death wish. “It was unlocked.”

“Was it now?”

The dim light put him entirely in the shadows, his expression hidden. But I could feel his eyes on me, tension twisting between us like a noose, so abrasive I could almost see the marks left on my skin.

His head dipped closer to mine, and I held my breath.

“Just a warning,” he said, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Stay out of my way, or you’ll really find out why they call me the Beast.” With that he pushed off the counter, leaving me alone in his kitchen.

It took a moment for me to move, and fisting my hands I turned away from the fridge, realising I was no longer hungry. Instead, I searched the drawers, not stopping until I found something I could use to defend myself. Something fucking sharp.