Page 35 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Arabella

Another week passed so fast. I wasn’t allowed out of the penthouse again, which meant I was back to being locked away in my figurative tower. But I was allowed free access, everywhere except the locked door in the west wing.

I spent my days writing or exploring the many rooms up the stairs in the west wing that held no purpose other than storage or to collect dust. Seriously, this place was fucking huge.

In the evenings I read to Sebastian while he painted or practiced with the punching bag.

Sometimes he’d paint me, and that always ended with multiple orgasms for us both.

I found my body readying itself every time he painted, excited.

He was rough, but with the pain came pleasure, and I realised I loved the feeling of being claimed.

Owned.

Used.

He didn’t stop until I was practically boneless, and then he’d carry me back to my bed, or lay me on the chaise lounge.

But I was still trapped, alone .

Lounging back, I bathed in the sunlight in the studio, re-reading my favourite of the three books.

“You even allowed in here?”

I jumped up, dropping my book and losing my page.

“I’m not even allowed in here,” Chip continued, standing in the doorway.

“Bloody hell, you can’t sneak up on me like that!” I eyed him warily, wondering whether he was blowing hot or cold today. “Are you okay? You haven’t been around lately.”

Chip regarded me cooly. “Do you care about me or the fact I’ve been checking up on your dad?”

“That’s not fair.” I hadn’t seen Chip since the night of the docks, and he was my only connection to the outside world. “You’re my only friend here.”

His eyes were intense when they met mine. “He’s fine. Still at the garage and living above in the flat.”

“He is?” I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or worried.

He’d usually run as soon as things got sketchy, so what was making him stay?

“Thank you for checking on him. I can’t explain how much I appreciate it.

” It was like a weight lifted off me, and my eyes prickled with tears that he was still alive. That he’d stayed in the same city.

“Do you want me to get a message to him?” Chip asked, his tone lighter, almost eager.

“I… Just tell him I’m okay.”

Chip cocked his head, still standing in the doorway. “I want to apologise about what I said before, about spreading your legs. I was angry and shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

The memory of his words heated my cheeks. “It’s fine.”

“No, seriously. It was out of line, and you didn’t deserve it.”

He finally took a step inside, eyes darting around the room. Chip pushed back the ribbons of the closest canvas, staring at the distressed art.

“You do realise you’re expendable, right?” he said, voice low. “We all are. Just staff. Tools. Told what to do, when to speak, and when to disappear.” Without warning he shoved the canvas, and it hit the ground with a loud crack. “Nothing but pawns on his chessboard.”

I tried to move past him, but his hand lashed out, gripping my upper arm like he couldn’t let me walk away from the truth he was trying to force on me.

“Let go of me,” I warned, surprised by his burst of violence. “Chip.”

His grip didn’t tighten, but he didn’t release me either. “Why do you let him hurt you?”

“He doesn’t hurt me.” Well, he hadn’t hurt me against my will. Which just showed how messed up my life had become. Even more so than it was before.

“So you actually want him to touch you?” Chip watched me, his expression empty and his eyes lacking any light.

“That’s none of your business.”

“You’re worth so much more than a whore, Ara. You’re literally in the home of one ofthe most powerful men in the city, and you what? Choose to read all day and then spread your legs at night?”

“That’s enough.” I finally pulled my arm free, anger making my face prickle with heat. “Where the hell is this coming from? I thought we were friends.”

“I thought you were like me, here because you have no other choice.”

“You keep painting me as some pathetic damsel, but I’m not.

Yes, I chose to be here. I chose to take my father’s place, knowing I’d be treated like a whore, just like you called me.

And you know what? I’d do it again if it meant my father lived.

You have no fucking idea what I’ve endured, so don’t you dare judge the choices I’ve made to survive. ”

I managed to get past, my footsteps quick as I left him behind.

“What is it about him?” Chip snapped after me, but I was already moving. “You’re closer to my age than his. He’s a fucking decade older, Ara.”

Guilt and betrayal burned behind my eyes as I raced back to my room. It didn’t matter that he could follow me; I just needed space to think. To breathe without judgment from my only friend.

Crashing through the door, I came to a halt when I found Sebastian looking through my notebook.

“What are you doing?” I snapped, panic twisting my stomach at the drawings I’d made of the penthouse. Of the possible exits and hiding spots. “That’s mine.”

Sebastian didn’t even look up. “What is it?”

“Did you read any of it?” I asked, noticing the tension along his shoulders.

He finally met my eyes. “Would you read it to me?”

“No.” There was no hesitation, and I itched to snatch it from his hand. “Give it back.” I reached out, but he held it high above my head. “Sebastian…”

“What’s it called?”

I gritted my teeth. “Bound by a Beast.”

His upper lip twitched. “Maybe it should be called Beauty and the Beast.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Trust me, it’s not a romance.”

He looked at me, his gaze intense when he finally released my notebook. I crushed it safely to my chest. No way would I want Sebastian to read it. I didn’t think I wanted anyone to ever read it .

“You look… upset,” he settled on.

I averted my eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Does it have anything to do with Chip in my studio?”

“You were watching me?” I looked around, but I still hadn’t been able to find any cameras.

“What did he say to you?”

I took too long to answer. “Nothing important.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to go ask him.” Sebastian took a step towards the door, and I panicked.

“What? No. Look, it’s nothing. He just… he called me your whore.”

“You’ve been called my whore before.”

“Yeah, but…” I sighed. “He was just reminding me how small I am, and how easily you can toss me aside once you’re bored.”

Sebastian’s expression darkened, his footsteps silent as he moved closer.

I swallowed under his intensity, but still I lifted my chin. “He’s harmless.”

“Hmm.” Sebastian reached up to grip my jaw, his thick rings cold and digging into my skin. “I don’t like people crushing on things that are mine. I don’t share my toys , belle. ”

“You’ve made that perfectly clear.” I tried to jerk my head back, but he only held me tighter. “And he doesn’t have a crush on me.”

“Maybe I should reiterate.” Sebastian dipped his head, and I found my pulse reacting. “Invite Chip in here so he can watch you scream my name while I make you come on my cock.”

My face prickled, but my core clenched with arousal.

“Maybe I’ll just cut his throat and use his blood as lube so I can finally take that last hole of yours.”

“Stop it,” I whispered .

“You say that like you wouldn’t bend over for me willingly.” His thumb reached up to brush my bottom lip.

“You speak about taking lives like it’s nothing,” I said, trying to steel my voice. “Like it doesn’t take something from you.”

“Death is life,” he replied smoothly. “Someone has to be at the top of the food chain. Don’t act like you’ve never done something selfish to protect yourself or your father.”

“That’s different,” I snapped. “I’ve never had to hurt anyone.”

He tilted his head, eyes dark with something unreadable.

“You don’t know that for sure.” His thumb pressed harder against my mouth, relentless, always pushing.

“I know how far you’ll go. How much you’d risk for a man who doesn’t deserve it.

Did you know your dad offered you to me before you’d even agreed?

How he begged, crying on his knees in my office to take you as payment instead? ”

His words hit like ice water, and my lungs seized, the sudden tightness strangling the breath from me. “I don’t believe you.” My dad wasn’t a good father, but he’d never do that. He needed me as much as I needed him. We only had each other. “Stop it.”

My hand flew to Sebastian’s chest, shoving weakly against him, trying to create distance. But he didn’t move.

“He expected me to fuck you,” he went on, his voice colder now. “Then kill you.”

A tremor ran through me, but he wasn’t finished.

“And still, he handed you over like you were nothing. So tell me,” he whispered, eyes searching mine, “are you blindly stubborn? Or just stupid ?”

My palm cracked across his cheek, the sound sharp and brutal in the stillness between us. The sting bloomed across my skin, and I gasped at what I’d done.

I braced for retaliation, for him to hit me back or grip my wrist in a bruising hold. To punish me. Instead, his eyes brightened with amusement. Like he wanted me to fight. Like my resistance only fed whatever dark creature that lived inside him.

He smiled, his lips curling slowly, dangerously. “If it was between his life or yours… where would you aim the gun now?”

I stared at him, my breath shallow. “I could never kill anyone, and I sure as hell wouldn’t enjoy it the way you do.”

“That’s what makes us different,” he said, voice softer than before. “You still think morality is a line, when it’s not.”

“You speak like a monster.”

“Hmm.” His head cocked to the side, his hair tied up to leave only dark wisps to frame his face. “If you believed that, I’d stuff my cock down your throat right now and ignore you if you tell me no.” My lips opened to protest, and he smirked. “But you wouldn’t tell me no, would you belle?”

This was where I was messed up, because he was right. The more he made me feel helpless, out of control, the more I ached between my legs.

“There’s a reason you’re here, Arabella. There’s a darkness inside that matches mine.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

“We’ll see.” He pressed closer, and I felt his erection dig into my stomach. It was heavy and hard, and I waited for him to demand me to my knees. To fuck me despite the animosity burning between us. “Read to me.”

“You… want me to read to you?” I asked, brows knitting in confusion.

He didn’t answer, just stood there watching me with that unreadable expression he wore too well. I glanced toward the books I’d carefully arranged on the dresser, all except the one I’d left behind in the studio .

I gestured toward them, trying to mask the unease threading my voice. “Which one?”

“Don’t care.” He didn’t even look at them, his eyes trained on me. “The one you were reading last time.”

“That’s Tale As Old As Time .”

He finally glanced at the books, but a nerve feathered along his jaw.

“I’ll get it.” I waited for him to drop his hand, and when he did, I grabbed the right book and turned to him expectantly.

Following him to the studio, I was thankful Chip was gone as I took a seat.

Sebastian began to strip, the clink of his rings hitting the dish by the window.

Followed by the clang of his cufflinks. There was silence, nothing but the sound of his buttons, and then fabric brushing against skin as he removed his shirt to reveal his wide chest. He stayed in his trousers, turning to pick up a fresh canvas and paints.

Vincit qui se vincit, was beautifully written across his upper back, perfectly blended with the thorns and roses. Sebastian looked over his shoulder when I didn’t start, his eyes clashing with mine.

“What does the tattoo mean?” I asked, not that I expected he would answer, especially when his jaw clenched at the question. “It’s Latin, right?”

“‘He conquers who conquers himself.’”

Okay. I still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. “So you’re your worst enemy?”

“Essentially. It means I need to remain in control of myself.” Sebastian picked up the blue, mixing it with the black straight on the canvas. It created a beautiful, dark swirl. Like a void.

“Nobody is in complete control all the time,” I argued. “You’re allowed to have a bad day.”

His eyes slitted to mine, probably annoyed, but I continued anyway because talking to a wall that responded with glares was better than talking to an actual wall.

“Do you know what I do when I’m having a hard time? Aside from making up an extravagant and dramatic plot specifically for the demise of my enemies?” I joked.

“So that’s what’s in that notebook of yours.” Sebastian’s upper lip twitched. “Tell me, how theatrical is my death? Or have we only just fucked in your story?”

My ears heated, and I chose to ignore him. “When I’m sad, I like to eat cake. The really expensive ones that you see in the patisserie windows that don’t even look real. Specifically strawberry and cream.”

Sebastian raised a single brow, but rather than continue to paint, he cleaned his hands before wrapping his knuckles in fabric.

So I opened the book, found where we’d left it last time, and began to read about the cursed prince.

I found my attention drifting back to him, distracted by how his muscles along his back bunched as he punched the bag.

He stopped when he realised I was watching, glaring a warning until I started reading again. His movements weren’t aggressive, but they were angry. Controlled. Practiced.

It was hours later when he finally slowed, a fine layer of sweat coating his skin.

I’d just gotten to the stupid falling in love part of the story, but I stopped reading when Sebastian approached, leaning down to plant his hands on each side of my hips. He always kept a cushion of air between us, his heat radiating as the tension stretched.

“Lay back, belle ,” he said, his voice a deep, husky sound that wrapped around me. I did as I was told, his fingers bunching the fabric of my dress. “Keep reading.”

His hands were rough on my thighs, shamelessly stroking my skin .

“Such a needy little slut,” he whispered when he finally brushed a knuckle against my core. I suppressed a moan, trying to concentrate on the words as his fingers teased until I shattered.

And then he grabbed the paints.