He only proves the point when he nods towards the rose. “Looks like someone remembered the birthday girl.”
I look down at the rose in surprise. Oh my— He’s right. It’s my birthday. I’m nineteen now. On the day I buried my mother.
I double over as fresh rounds of sobs rack my body.
“Oh, hey, hey,” he says, immediately coming over and wrapping his big, warm arms around me. “Shhh, it’s going to be okay.”
But I shake my head. “No, no it’s not. That’s just something people say. But it’s a lie. Nothing’s ever going to be okay again. Not when—” I hiccup. “Not without Mom.”
He holds me tighter and I twist in his arms, burying my head in his warm chest.
And he holds me as I sob out my pain.
“Ouch,” I yelp as I shift several minutes later.
“What?” Logan pulls back, immediately alarmed.
I hold up a finger, pricked by one of the rose’s thorns, welling with bright red blood.
Logan grabs my hand and immediately brings it to his mouth, sucking on the finger. I don’t think he quite realized what he was doing, it was just an instinctual reaction.
But then, as if it hits him that he’s sitting on my bed with my finger in his mouth, suddenly his eyes darken as they lock on to mine.
And suddenly all I can think of is Mom making me swear that I’d live my life. Live the life that she couldn’t.
And all reason and sanity take a flying leap out the window.
I pull my finger from Logan’s mouth and pounce on him, wrapping my arms around his neck and trying to land my mouth on his.
But I’m not fast enough.
He shakes his head and grabs my cheeks, holding me back.
His chest heaves as he presses his forehead to mine. “I won’t take advantage of you, Daph. You’re grieving right now. You’re not in your right mind.”
Which is just fucking infuriating. Because maybe he’s a little bit right, but I still know what I want. “I want you, Logan.” It comes out pleading and breathy, but it's also one of the most honest things I’ve ever uttered in my entire life.
I’ve all but crawled in his lap and one hand moves from my face to curl around my waist as he drops his head to the crook of my neck.
“Don’t do this to me, Daph. Not right now. I can’t be another person close to you who lets you down when you need them the most.”
For a second, we just sit like that, me half on top of him and him clutching me like I’m a lifeline.
But then—and I swear I can feel his entire body shaking—he takes me by my waist and sets me off him.
The tears start up again the second I lose contact. “I’ve ruined it,” I whisper. “You’re going to leave now and I’ll never see you again.”
He pauses from where he’s standing beside the bed and runs a hand through his hair. “Your Dad wants me back in the lab right away…”
I nod and turn my face away from him. I must seem so pathetic. So sad and piteous, trying to kiss him and expecting him to feel anything back. Sad, pathetic—
But then I feel a weight on the bed behind me as the mattress dips.
“Daph, when was the last time you slept?” His voice is so gentle, it only makes it worse.
“Not since—” I hiccup when I try to breathe. “Not since the morning when I woke up and found her—”
“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, “Daph, that was days ago.”
There’s more movement behind me. “Come here.”
He pulls back the blankets and then he pulls me into him, my back to his front, and his heavy, masculine arm curls around my waist. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair. “Just sleep, baby. Just sleep.”
I’m already dreaming, is the last thought I have before I drift off.
Nineteen
Present Day
Logan
The moon is a cold coin, glowing silver in a starless sky. I raise a glass of whiskey and drain it in one go. Midnight. I can’t sleep. My body is sated but my mind prowls the past like it did while I lay as an invalid after Daphne’s father tried to destroy me.
Was there something different I could have done to pry Daphne from her family? Is there any way we can have a future? My memories are a labyrinth, and I am lost. I’d wander forever, if it weren’t for Daphne.
Daphne.
I sense her presence in the hall. Somehow—maybe her scent, or maybe I’m an animal, a predator, a hunter always aware of my surroundings. Or maybe we’re attuned to one another. As much as I try to fight our connection, it’s there.
A small knock and the door creaks open a sliver.
“Enter,” I call.
She slips inside, a nymph in the moonlight. Her bare feet are silent as she approaches. She shivers slightly and I gesture for her to stand in front of the fire. Her piercings wink at me. Her eyes are hooded and tired.
I can’t bring myself to order her around any more tonight. It was hard enough to leave her earlier tonight. I can’t push her away a second time. I open my arms, letting my robe flop open. She crawls onto my bare chest, curling against me like the kitten I’m always calling her.
“I missed you,” she murmurs against my neck. It feels so right, like always, having her here. Body against my body. Nuzzled against me, relaxed and trusting.
“I’m right here,” I breathe out.
“No. You’re far away.” Her small fingers trace my mask, and for a second, I let her. Then I capture her hand, kiss her fingers and engulf them with mine.
She sighs long and loud. So much air for such a little body. I nuzzle her wet hair and study her profile as she stares at the fire. I want to believe her, to believe this, doesn’t she understand?
But a man can only be broken so many times before there’s nothing left to put back together.
“I thought it would be like this,” she says, almost too low for me to hear.
“What?”
“Coming back. I thought we’d be together. And you’d be hurt and punish me, but mostly, it’d be like this.” She nods to the fireplace.
“You and me cuddling in front of a fire?”
The firelight catches the side of her frown as she turns to me. “You and me, together.”
I tuck a half-dry strand of hair behind her ear. “We are together.”
“No we’re not. You’re holding yourself back, Logan.”
My voice hardens, my body tensing. “Well, do you blame me?”
“No,” she says, and looks sad. “I don’t.”
I rub soothing circles onto her back. “We still have this. Just for tonight.” I can pretend for one night.
“Mmm,” she hums, but it’s not quite an agreement. She wants more than one night.
I wish I could give it to her.
“I called my dad today.”
I bite back a grimace. Once upon a time, Dr. Laurel was my mentor. A surrogate father. I would have done anything to please him until I realized how hollow he was inside. Daphne’s still caught in his web of lies.
“And?” I keep my voice bland.
She sighs. “He’s still recovering. I talked to him today and he sounded so weak. I wanted to confront him about everything, challenge him about selling Thornhill but—”
“But?”
“In the end, does it matter? He’s an old man. I’ve lived my whole life the way he wanted, but it was my choice. Especially the past few years, taking on Belladonna. I could’ve told him no.”
My brows arch up. Daphne’s never talked like this before. “Did you tell him that? Today?”
“No.” She half rolls her eyes. “I kept our talk super short. He was slow and out of breath and I...well, I had a butt plug stretching my ass.”
I can’t help my chuckle. “You’re such a good girl.”
She giggles with me. “I so am.”
Being with her feel so good, so natural. And since we’re already pretending…
“Come. I have something to show you.”
She lifts her head. “What?”
“A gift.”
She sighs. “I only want you.”
My cock jumps. Definitely only my cock. Not that other stupid organ in my chest. Not at all. I lift her off my lap, stand and offer my hand.
“An olive branch, then.”
* * *
Daphne
“Won’t I need clothes?” I ask as Logan wraps me in a fur carefully. “Shoes?”
“No. I’ll carry you.”
He lifts me as if I’m light as a rose petal. The night air is bracing on my bare face, but the coat covers me past my feet. Frosted grass crunches under Logan’s shoes as he carries me down the hill. The castle looms behind us, darkly beautiful bathed in moonlight. Beside us, the labyrinth is a black, leafy wall.
But that’s not where Logan is taking me. Moonlight glints off a structure ahead. I’m not wearing my contacts or glasses so it takes me a moment to recognize the sheen of glass.
“A greenhouse,” I breathe, delighted.
When he opens the door, warm air embraces me, along with the scent of jasmine and vanilla. Logan sets me down. The moonlight is enough to guide my path through the dark rows. I can pick out the groups of plant by scent. Herbs, orchids, a few vegetables, and finally the last rows dedicated to hybrid after hybrid of—
“Roses.” I swallow a stone that’s suddenly formed in my throat. “These are my mother’s.”
I look to Logan and he doesn’t deny it.
My eyes go back to the roses. “You brought them from Thornhill.” I delicately touch a prickly leaf.
“I wanted them close,” he says. “Easier to care for.”
“My father told me he wouldn’t let my mother’s garden go, that he’d hire someone to keep it up. That the hybrids she was working on would be looked after, kept alive until I had time to return and continue her work.” But he didn’t. He sold Thornhill. It was Logan who cherished these roses and kept them thriving.
“Dad lied to me. About this. About everything.” I turn and walk down the rows. Logan follows, a giant shadow dogging my steps. But I’m grateful for his presence. His warmth.
“Thornhill was promised to me, did you know that? I wanted to live there, convert one of the greenhouses to a lab. Dad convinced me to move into the city. Now I know why.” I let out a hollow laugh.
I stop at the edge of the greenhouse and press my face to the cold glass. I won’t cry. The hurt is so constant, it’s seeped into my bones. It’s part of my blood.
My father has always been like this. Since the day I was born, he made it clear that I mattered less than the stem cells I could give my ailing mother and the accolades I would win in his name. I’ve carried that pain and rejection every day of my life. Take it away and I wouldn’t be Daphne.
* * *
Logan
The pain in Daphne’s voice stabs me. A tear beads in her lashes and she blinks it away.
“My father only cared about what I could give him. Never about me. I never mattered to him.”
Finally, she sees the truth about her shit dad. There’s no satisfaction in the fact, though, because I can see how much she’s hurting. I reach out to touch her, but stop with my hand hovering in the air. I don’t want to add to her pain.
Then she turns and sees my hand, smiles, and reaches up to clasp it herself. “I did matter to my mother. But I was her donor, you know. She loved me, she did, but our time together was colored by the disease. I never met anyone who cared about me for me...until I met you.”
She looks up at me and I almost back away from her adoring smile. Her trust hits me like a blow.
“Everything’s changing,” she murmurs. “I’m changing. But I didn’t do it fast enough, did I? As soon as I walked back into Belladonna, I turned into the old Daphne. A pushover, pleasing everyone but herself.”
I start to make a noise and she goes on tiptoe to press two fingers to my lips.
“I’m not making excuses,” she says quickly. “Everything that happened, I allowed it. But please, let me say this. I never got to properly say it when you found me that day at Mom’s grave. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
I swallow hard at her apology, not sure how I feel, but she’s not done.
“Adam steamrolled over me and I let him. I was a grown woman but I let him and fear of the board make me a doormat just like I always was for my father my whole life. And that’s my fault.”
She releases me and turns away.
“Anyway, I just wanted to finally say it out loud. I’m sorry I immediately fell back in old patterns. But the old mold doesn’t fit anymore. In a way, it never did. I feel stronger now. I didn’t know the world could be this…big. That my life could be so full of color. I feel like I’m starting to become the woman I was always supposed to be.” Her voice grows stronger as she moves through the greenhouse. I catch up to her at the door. Her head’s tipped back and the moonlight bathes her face. “And that’s all because of you.” The last words come out as a whisper but I hear them all the same.
“Come on,” I wrap my arms around her. I can’t help her words affecting me. She’s saying everything I want to hear. And though there’s a part of me that still clenched in suspicion of her playing me…the rest of me?
The rest of me just wants to hold my Daphne. Hold her close forever and never let her go.
“It’s late. You need sleep for tomorrow.”
“More torture?” she asks lightly.
I want to say no, but I can’t lie. Owning Daphne’s body is the only way to exorcise my demons. And if there’s a chance, even the slightest chance that this could all be real, that there could be a future for us…
“It’s okay,” she whispers, and snuggles against me as I carry her to bed. I tuck her in, careful of her piercings. I fuss as long as I can until there’s nothing left to do. But I can’t bring myself to leave. I slide my hand over the coverlet, smoothing it over and over again, feeling her warmth underneath.
“Lie with me?” she asks sleepily. She’s so beautiful, soft and warm in the bed, inviting and tempting like nothing else. It’s a bad idea, but I can’t refuse. I’m tired of fighting. There’s nothing else I want than to hold her close for hours.
“This isn’t a precedent,” I mutter as I slip in next to her. Her smooth legs tangle with mine and my boner tents the sheet. I grit my teeth, willing it to subside. I really do just want to hold her and I’m not sure I could deal with the intensity of fucking her again right now. If I started, I’m not sure I could stop. “I’m not doing this every night,” I growl churlishly.
She doesn’t acknowledge my warning. “You were the only one who could get me to sleep,” she reminds me, sighing happily and tucking her head under my chin. Her breathing evens out immediately, leaving me wondering if I’m living my nightmare or my best dream.
Twenty
Present Day
Daphne
The sun slants across my face and I stretch. Logan is gone—I didn’t expect he’d stay. That he held me last night so I could fall sleep is enough.
Last night felt…important. Like maybe a breakthrough of some kind? Even if only for me. It was important for me to officially apologize and acknowledge my responsibility for what happened. I can’t control what Logan believes. I can only control my actions and responses.
And I’m done being a doormat. For my father. For Logan. For anyone.
He left long instructions for my day. No more butt plugs, thank gods. My ass still feels stretched and sore—in the most delicious way.
I take his list of commands and head to the bathroom. Submitting sexually to Logan is different than being a doormat. I’m participating with him and there’s a willing exchange of control. It’s thrilling and life-giving.
When I look in the mirror, a beautiful, vibrant woman looks back, her eyes wide and soft and filled with satisfaction. No longer a mousy wallflower who thinks she should stay quiet in the background.
I arch my back and e
xamine myself. My nipple piercings look good. The area is still a bit red, but no sign of infection. I perform the aftercare per Logan’s instructions and soak my breasts in a sea salt solution. Logan also left a can of saline wash with orders to mist my nipples several times a day. If I don’t, he says he’ll punish me and oversee the aftercare himself.
The threats make me smile. If he has his way, the piercings will heal perfectly, and I’ll always remember last night, his claim. He’s making sure he’s always a part of me.
Even if I take out the piercings, he’ll always be a part of me. Permanently. But then, he would have been without the piercings, anyway.
As I return to the bedroom, my phone chirps from the drawer I tossed it in. I’ve been ignoring it—sending Rachel the bare minimum of texts to keep her from calling the cops. Should I take a picture of my nipples and send it to her? I grin at the thought.
The phone screen tells me she’s called three times already this morning. I quickly sober. She’s probably not in the mood to hear about my sex life.
Time to face reality. I click the call button and wander to a seat by the fire. I’m naked but for a towel around my waist. Logan’s trained me to feel comfortable in the buff. Yet another thing for Rachel and I to giggle about during our next girl’s night.
Rachel picks up on the second ring. “Oh thank gods,” she gasps. “I have good news, and I have bad news.”
I rub my forehead. “Go ahead.”
“The good news is...Adam hasn’t bothered you these past few days.”
She’s right. He’s been quiet. Not a call, not even a text.
“What’s the bad news?”
“Well...the reason he’s not bothering you is he’s busy planning your engagement party.”
I almost drop the phone. “What?!” I start to pace. “Shit, Rachel, that is bad news.”
Beauty and the Thorns Page 9
