Page 28 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Sebastian

I was trying to purge my excess energy, but the demons that lurked inside wanted to come out, and even the harsh strokes of the brush weren’t enough to keep them at bay.

Il ne m’a pas laissé le choix.

He left me no choice.

The canvas clattered to the floor, followed by the easel. I barely pulled myself back from breaking the wood into pieces, wanting the splinters to imbed themselves into my hands so I’d feel them for days.

It was so tempting, but instead I reached for my cigarette.

Placing it between my lips I took a deep drag, the smoke burning my lungs as I held it in, savouring the sensation before releasing it in a cloud in front of me.

My chest felt heavy, my muscles straining beneath my skin.

Sleep was alluding me as usual, and I knew nothing but the fucking pills was likely going to break me out of this episode.

The same medication that was known to knock me out cold, leaving me vulnerable against my nightmares. But at least then I could fucking sleep.

A squeak of the floorboards echoed behind me, and looking over my shoulder I met Arabella’s eyes. I knew she’d be there, just like she was the past few nights.

Stalking over to her, I didn’t give her time to run from me while I was this agitated. If she ran, I’d be forced to chase her, and when she was caught, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from finally breaking her.

Taking another drag of my cigarette, I blew the smoke in her face. “So fucking desperate for my attention.”

Her pupils expanded at my words, but she stood there frozen, without that light of defiance I’d grown fond of.

I was still waiting to grow bored, just like I was with almost everything else.

The only people who didn’t bore me were Langdon and Caden, and only because they enjoyed the same depraved games that I did.

Normal people were far less stimulating.

Everything and everyone else seemed shackled to society’s expectations, unwilling to break free and experience a little bit of destruction in their carefully constructed world. But no, she still stole my thoughts, like a poison tainting my bloodstream.

“So desperate to poke at the big, bad Beast,” I whispered, watching colour darken her cheeks at my harsh tone.

It was as if she didn’t know what to do, and honestly, the feeling was fucking mutual.

Taking her wrist, I pulled her further inside the room. My nightmares were howling, the demons snapping at my sanity.

“Stay,” I demanded, setting up a fresh canvas and picking up my brush, only for it to be all wrong. The shape. The colour. The fucking texture.

A tightness coiled beneath my ribs, the panic trying to swallow me whole. I felt the first phantom slash of that whip across my back, my cries falling on deaf ears.

It wasn’t the pain of being sliced open, it was watching the same thing happen to my mum and brothers. I was made to watch as my mum was raped, and then her throat slit while my dad wailed in despair.

S’il vous plait!

S’il vous plait!

My brothers were next, not even in double digits as they were beaten so badly I barely recognised them, all because of my father.

S’il vous pla?t, ne faites pas cela!

Please don’t do this! They’d begged for their lives, even as I cried. Even as I screamed to take me instead. Then I was forced to face him, the man I blamed for it all.

I tore my thoughts away, punching at the canvas until my fist split through. Paint splattered, but I didn’t care.This rage inside me couldn’t be cleansed, my memories and nightmares threatening to choke me.

“It didn’t have to be this way, you know,” she said, stroking through my mother’s hair like a lover. Mum let out a gargled whimper, the last one before death finally took her.

“Fucking bitch!” Dad screeched, fighting against the restraints. “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

She tutted, her red painted lips curving into a vicious slash of a smile. “You shouldn’t have chosen her, and now look at what you’ve made me do.”

My sobs rattled, my wrists bleeding from where I tried to free myself and reach my brothers. But it was no good; the first whoosh of the whip against my back made me scream. The pain was sharp before dulling into an ache, all before another strike parted my flesh.

“I’m sorry, Sebastian,” she said, kneeling in my growing pool of blood while my dad roared. “This is all your father’s fault. He left me no choice. ”

Soft fingers touched my shoulder, and I flinched before there was a gasp. I blinked away the image of the woman that had tried to destroy me, only to find Arabella, her lips parted and my hand tightening around her slim throat.

A little more pressure, and I could watch her light and that infuriating defiance disappear from her eyes. Forever going dark.

“Sebastian,” she mouthed, drawing me back to the present.

I hadn’t even known I’d moved, lost against the fight of my past.

Fuck. I relaxed my fingers so she could take in a breath, my thumb reaching out to stroke the tear glistening from the corner of her eye. I accidentally smudged her with paint, the dark red like blood across her fair skin.

It was fucking beautiful. So I did it again, smearing it straight on her cheekbone in a splash of gore that anchored me to the moment.

She was still beneath my touch, not moving even when I stepped back to grab more paint.

She watched me with those fucking eyes, and I expected fear when I reached for the bottom of her pyjama vest, attempting to rip the fabric over her head.

But there was nothing as she lifted her arms to help me, a doe caught in the path of a wolf.

The fabric pulled until her breasts were free, and then I was painting them too, tracing around the luscious curves that had invaded my thoughts on more than one occasion.

My thumb brushed over her nipple, and she shivered beneath the touch. So I did it again, lost against the paint on her skin.

If I’d known better, I’d say she’d been sent to me as a Trojan horse to make me fall. But clearly, I didn’t care, not when her presence was bringing me back from the void of my mind.

Her breasts moved with every inhale, my paint contouring her top half until I reached the waistband of her shorts. I tugged them off her legs even as she protested, until she stood there in nothing but black lace.

Fucking beautiful.

I stalked around her like she was a living piece of art, reaching out to paint across her shoulders, and then the arch of her back. My fingers moved down, over the slope of her arse to brush between her thighs. Her breathing hitched, the softest moan escaping her lips.

A warmth spread inside my chest, replacing the panic that was slowly receding until I could think. Until those nightmares no longer threatened to destroy me.

Her delicate throat swallowed as my fingers moved closer to her centre, only to find her underwear slick. My eyes flashed up to hers in cruel pleasure.

“Is there a reason your cunt’s wet for me, belle? ”

Arabella

His touch was harsh, calloused fingers rough. And still I felt myself aching for it. There was unapologetic power in the way he moved, his painting almost manic as he smeared colour across my naked skin.

I knew the risk of coming to watch him, and I’d thought about running when I’d first been caught. But something in his expression had stopped me. He’d looked lost, broken .

But now there was fire in his gaze, burning me from the inside out.

I should be scared, absolutely terrified in the way he looked at me like a predator ready to gobble his prey. But that knowledge did nothing to diminish the strange pleasure of the rough way he was touching me.

He was an animal barely contained in human skin, the Beast as he’d been named.

And for some reason, I’ve never been so turned on.

Sebastian barely moved to clean his hands before his thumb purposely rubbed between my thighs, pressing against my clit hard enough I audibly moaned before I could catch the sound. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, and my eyes snapped up to his sardonic smile.

“Such a needy little slut.” The name washed over me, humiliation prickling.

I went to reply, but he’d already stepped back to reach for a cloth to wipe his hands. It swung the loose braid in his hair, the strands coated in red. There was even a smear of paint across his cheekbone, and I itched to reach up to touch it.

But his hand caught my wrist, dragging me closer until my breasts brushed his bare chest. He looked down at me, and I stilled beneath his scrutiny.

“Ne touchez pas, même si vous êtes un chef-d’?uvre,” he muttered, his gaze leaving heat in his wake.

Tugging me closer, I fell onto his lap as he sat back on the chaise lounge in the corner of his studio.

With both my wrists caught in his large hand, I was stuck straddling him.

“So eager to please, giving herself up to save her father. Was it because you’re so desperate for my cock, belle ? ”

His words shattered around me, causing anger to burn to the surface. “Fuck you.” I tried to wrench myself back, but I was caught by his strength .

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, a cruel edge tipping his lips.

“See, you’re begging for it.” His free hand pinched my nipple, followed by a slap against the back of my thigh, the sting burning.

“Maybe you did it because you like to be punished? Is that it?” Another slap, this time closer between my legs. “Does my little slut want it to hurt?”

A third slap, and rather than recoil I moaned even as a tear slipped down my face.

“Answer me, Arabella,” he commanded.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, my pussy throbbing from the impact.

Maybe I did want to be punished, especially when Sebastian was making me feel so alive. My brain was fighting my body, my mind telling me to run and hide from the monster looking at me like he wanted to devour me whole.

But my body was craving the rough treatment, wanting more. Needing more.