Page 17 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Sebastian

Arabella sat so obediently on my lap, my cock twitching at her compliance. I expected a little push back, but other than a slight darkening of her eyes and venom on her tongue, she did exactly what she was told.

I continued to stroke her soft thighs, hyper focused on how her breathing picked up, and her pulse raced on the side of her throat. But then her breasts pushed at the bodice of her dress, obscenely displayed for my eyes.

I should’ve made her change, because now she was pure seduction.

A distraction. The fabric was tight, a pale pink that flared out at her hips and stopped mid-thigh.

Usually, I only touched women with the intent of sex, and they were definitely not allowed to touch me in return.

But with Arabella I wanted to touch, to see whether she’d grip my wrist with the intention of stopping me, or not. Not that she could stop me.

Most women flinched beneath my attention, reacting to my scars and cruelty. Those that didn’t, I had no interest in. They chased thinking they could tame the great Beast, and then cried when they were bitten .

Arabella hadn’t flinched, but she hadn’t exactly chased me, either.

I moved my hands higher on her thighs, and again I was pushing, seeing whether I could get that fire I saw the first night. She believed she was so unaffected by me, but I could feel how her body responded. The way her pulse quickened and her legs trembled even as she fought it.

She may not like me, but her body clearly didn’t care.

She believed she was working off her debt, but she was mine until I grew bored. Until then, I had no intention of letting her go.

As she wriggled in my lap, I bit back a curse as my cock twitched. If she could feel me hardening beneath her, she didn’t react. Seemingly distracted with being put on display. It wasn’t something she seemed to enjoy, and the feeling was mutual.

I rarely used my personal booth, preferring the comfort of my office where I could watch everything from afar. I could feel eyes glancing our way, but not lingering even as fear danced with excitement at my presence.

No, I was a rare sight. And that was what I preferred, to be the devil hiding amongst the shadows.

My name may be known, but my face wasn’t as common, even as distinctive as it was.

Not unless you were a regular at my fights, but then again only a certain type of person attended those.

People that were already familiar with how the underworld operated.

But tonight, I’d decided to come early, to sit and watch the rich and influential lose their inhibitions under the veil of privacy.

There were two rules once you’d stepped inside my club, the first being there were no recording devices. That included phones, cameras, or anything else that could record picture or sound. The second was what happened in The Thorn stayed in The Thorn .

Break a rule once, and you were permanently expelled. No exceptions.

So people danced, spilled secrets, and cheated believing no one was watching, when in reality there were cameras across every inch. Ready to be used against anyone who dared deceive me.

“Boss?”

Arabella stiffened in my lap, my thumbs having moved even further up to the point her skirt was almost revealing too much. I slipped my hands out from beneath the fabric before turning towards Micah.

“Caden has asked for your assistance.” He dipped his head, immediately returning to his position by the ropes.

Reluctantly I helped Arabella off, only to lean down to whisper against her ear. “Behave.”

She looked over her shoulder at me, eyes glittering with that spark, ready to ignite. I find I wanted it to burn, just so I could put her back in her place.

“Be a good girl,” I whispered closer, her eyes dilating at my words. “If you try to run, I’lltake the payment in your father’s skin, and then I’ll take joy in putting you over my knee.”

She blinked, that earlier flush sweeping back across her cheekbones and down her throat. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, and I noted the sarcasm in the reply.

For some reason it sent a thrill through me. Which was strange, because I fucking hated brats. Leaving her by the booth, I crossed the carpet in powerful strides. The dancers parted, as if I was surrounded by an invisible force.

I took the private lift down a floor, the scent of puke and piss evident as soon as the doors slipped open.

I came to the interrogation room, finding one man sprawled on the table, vomit smeared across his face and his eyes dulled in death.

Another man sat on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Another OD,” Caden muttered, shaking his head. Tossing a packet over, I caught it.

“Please… please…” the man sobbed. “I don’t know… I don’t know.”

I ignored him for the moment, frowning down at the emblem that represented everything I’d worked for. The rose strangled by thorns was correct, but the colour of the product was off.

Opening the pack, I dipped the tip of my finger before rubbing it across my gums. There was no numbing, just a slight tingling. Immediately I spat, getting rid of any powder.

“That shit’s not ours,” Caden growled, an edge to his words.

No, the product definitely wasn’t ours, which meant someone was either using my name to shift their own shit, or someone had been tampering with the supply.

The man on the floor continued to sob, his eyes unfocused. It took me a moment, but I finally recognised him. The mayor’s youngest son, Jonathan Smithers. A nepo child that barely looked old enough to wipe his own arse, but he must be at least twenty-one to get past the doormen.

He hadn’t even realised I was there, lost in his bawling.

Caden sighed, his favourite sledgehammer scraping against the concrete when he dragged it over. The man flinched, looking up.

“I don’t know,” he simply repeated.

“Well, I need you to remember where you bought it from,” Caden said, his voice much calmer than his expression, which looked like he was seconds away from beating the kid so hard brain splattered across the walls .

“Is Chris okay?” Jonathan asked instead.

Caden stood over, forcing Jonathan to crane his neck back. “No, Jonathan. He’s not fucking okay. He’s clearly dead, you muppet.”

“Dead?” Jonathan squeaked. “But he was okay a minute ago.”

“That was before he snorted his weight in poor grade cocaine, wasn’t it? Now, who’s your dealer?” Caden demanded.

What Jonathan clearly wasn’t picking up on was that Caden took the product personally, as he should, considering he was an integral part behind the design. He had a weird hard-on for the science side and declared he’d been the one to perfect the product quality.

My chemist, T, disagreed, but I didn’t get involved in their bickering so long as they refrained from killing one another.

“Please, I don’t… I don’t remember.”

Patience wasn’t exactly one of my virtues, so taking a step forward I crouched closer to his height. His eyes widened when he realised I was there, his sob turning into a full-on wail.

My hand snaked out, holding his jaw. “Now, we’re going to start this again,” I said, letting my voice deepen into a growl. “Who bought the coke?”

Jonathan’s eyes flicked up to Caden, and I held back a laugh if he believed Caden would save him. My fingers tightened until he returned his attention to me, which got me a wince in return.

“I… I did,” he answered.

“Good. So who was your dealer?” My hand itched to close, to break his jaw. But the fallout wasn’t worth it. The London Mayor was in my pocket just as much as any other politician, but I wasn’t stupid enough to take out his youngest without cause.

Suppressing my slightly more feral side, I released him.

“I don’t know his name,” he stammered. “He goes by Eight.”

Now that I was closer, I could see the Rolex he wore on his wrist and the diamond-encrusted necklace he had tucked inside his shirt. Pompous prick born into money, with hands so soft they’d likely never see a hard day’s work.

“Eight? Like the number?” Caden frowned. “How can we get hold of him?”

Jonathan seemed to calm once he’d realised we weren’t going to hurt him. Probably.

“I have his contact details,” he said, his voice not so pathetic this time.

Arm shaking, he pulled out his phone from his pocket, holding it out to me.

I immediately looked down at the screen, unable to decipher the words before Caden took it.

“He’s not my usual guy, but he was the one that turned up. ”

That got my attention, and glancing over to Caden I realised he’d raised his brow at that little bit of information too. I turned back to Jonathan, who baulked at the expression on my face.

“What can you tell me about this Eight?”