For a second, gratitude flings through me. Then fury at the memory of me on my knees begging. I might be afraid of Thorn because I’m not an idiot, but I’m still independent.
So I scramble through the cupboards and find a thermos that I fill to the brim with fresh coffee. Tugging my cardigan closer around my chest, I hurry outside and all but run across the grass to reach the soldier.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks, blood flowing from his earlobe. A myriad of bruises show across his face and neck, and he’s moving as if his ribs hurt.
My stomach revolts. “Oh my gosh, did you get bitten?”
“Yeah, I got bitten,” he says, shaking his head. “I donna think yer supposed to be out here.”
The rain mats my hair to my head. “I know. I just want to say I’m really sorry about the other day.” I hand him the thermos.
“What’s this?” He looks young and slightly confused.
“It’s just coffee. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
He opens the top of the thermos and takes a big drink. Red infuses his face. “That’s okay. I guess it was a smart move to go for the phone, and ya did save my life.”
“I thought I could find a way to call for help,” I say, “but I almost got you killed.”
He gulps and looks toward the cliffs and then back at the pond. “It’s okay. All of us need ta be faster to survive in this world, even underwater. And believe me, I’ll be faster by the time I’m done with this assignment.”
I turn my head to the side and sneeze.
He gestures toward the castle. “You need ta get back inside. I don’t want either of us gettin’ in trouble.”
I agree. I pat his arm. “Thank you for being my friend.”
Confusion crosses his face, and I chuckle. Even so, the wind picks up and I have to duck my head as I run back inside and note two men with sledgehammers in their hands. I skid across the marble floor. “What’s going on?”
One burly man looks at the other. “We have orders to take out a few of the windows.” Without waiting for a response, they turn and walk upstairs to the guest bedroom.
“Why are you taking out windows?” I ask, my heart stuttering. They don’t answer, and soon I hear the sound of shattering glass. I can’t believe it. Thorn is actually replacing the windows for me? I turn and hustle across the sprawling living room to his study and see that the windows have already been changed to clear glass that look out over the ocean. No more argyle pattern. Why is he being so kind to me?
Which makes me think. I’ve never reacted to any male the way I do to Thorn, and I also fully understand that we have no future.
But we could have one night. It’s my decision, and I’m making it for good reasons. One, to defy my father. He doesn’t own me or my choices. Also, just in case I need to marry Cal to save the company, I want one night of passion first. With Thorn. So long as he agrees to let me go afterward.
Not only will that night be memorable, but it will be my choice. Not my father’s. I’ll never forget the smug look on Cal’s face about my virginity.
I’m choosing my first time. Period. And frankly, I deserve one good night of raw, unbelievable, rare passion.
I gulp, wondering if I’m lying to myself. Am I just giving in to the powerful current running between Thorn and me? Do I crave that darkness he promises?
No. Absolutely not. This self-doubt has to go, so I turn and head back into the library. My skin is tingling today, and I know it’s because I haven’t been online for two days. It’s rare that I take any sort of vacation. In fact, when I do travel, I post about the entire experience. Aquarius Social’s algorithm requires emotion. We are emotion-based. And without my emotions, I’m sure we’re losing subscribers and energy. I have to get my hands on a phone soon. Tomorrow doesn’t seem soon enough, but I also don’t want to put any more of Thorn’s men in peril. I have a sinking feeling that if I steal another phone, that person will die.
Thorn Beathach isn’t a man to show mercy twice.
I start reading through books I know we don’t have in our own library. There are so many, and I make a small pile of the ones I would like to take with me. Most have to do with different gemstones and crystals, and I’m delighted to find an obscure collection of philosophies from Gaius the Sage, an obscure and uncelebrated genius who lived 2,000 years ago. I only have one volume in my library and hadn’t a clue there are more.
Darkness starts to fall and I’m getting bored. Pushing the books to the side, I make my way back to Thorn’s office and the beautifully clear windows there. The idea that he did that for me is both confusing and enticing.
I sit at his desk and reach for the remote control to turn on the plasma television. It isn’t a phone and I can’t post, but at least it’s a screen. I scroll through channels until I reach the local news. Not much is going on. More homeless, more drugs, and more people fleeing California.
Sighing, I scroll through channels to a local gossip show that I love. Oh, I shouldn’t, but the host is delightful. Emmaline is around eighteen with bright blue lipstick, several nose piercings, and a penchant for hyperbole. I long for popcorn as I sit back and listen to her talk about the several up-and-coming breweries in town that didn’t up or come. Several are leaving.
Where in the world is Thorn? I’m tired of my own company. I want his. If I proposition him, will he say yes? No strings, just one night? My thighs warm at the thought.
Emmaline’s voice lowers on the screen and I jerk my attention back to her. Her cherub-sweet face falls and she clears her throat. “I do have a report in from the Palo Alto authorities that a body has been found in an alleyway behind the Crux Bar. The face has been beaten beyond recognition, but the victim is a woman in her midtwenties with long curly brown hair. She’s dressed in yellow with high-heeled sandals while accessorizing with an aquamarine pendant, and she was raped before being beaten to death.”
That’s terrible. Nausea filters through me.
Emmaline leans forward. “Now, I know many people dress like Alana Beaumont because she’s quite the fashion icon, and I understand that this might be a terrible coincidence. But I have to ask: Has anybody seen Alana since the night of the hushed-up shooting at Martini Money?”
I sit back, my ears heating. Emmaline has good sources, and I’m not surprised she was able to get info on the shooting, even if the main media isn’t touching it.
She shakes her head. “I’m just saying. Alana never fails to post at least once a day, and we haven’t heard a word. I’ve reached out to my contacts and nobody is talking.” The screen flashes to a picture of me. “Have you seen her?” she asks.
I turn off the television. I’m not dead, but a woman with my characteristics is? I need to get back onto social media. I eat a salad for dinner, wondering where Mrs. Pendrake is hiding. Thorn’s employees are invisible, they’re that good. Still, it’d be nice to have somebody to chat with as I’m slowly going out of my mind.
So of course, I relive that orgasm from the other night. Sure, I’ve read about such climaxes in romance novels, but until that moment, I’d thought them exaggerated. Not real.
Thorn is all too real.
Finally, I return to the library to read some more, still wondering what I should do tonight. Besides Thorn. Dancing with the devil has never been my goal, and yet, here I am considering it.
Around nine that evening, I hear heavy footsteps. Both Thorn and Justice walk into the library. There’s something off. I can feel it, but I can’t see it. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Thorn says, his expression inscrutable. He’s once again dressed in black slacks, a white button-down shirt, and black suit jacket. All Armani. “Did you have a nice day?”
