The Burning Roses: Thornes & Roses: The Prequel

by Dani René

  I step forward without thinking. I wouldn’t usually do something like this, not with everyone watching. I’m a private person, and what I do in my bedroom, or when I’m on my own, is for me to know, but right now, I’m oblivious to anything but the girl before me. With my dick in my hand, throbbing painfully, I near her, and she slowly, beautifully drops to her knees.

  How I wish I had my toys with me right now. It would cause a scene, but it would make me see fucking stars. She takes me in her delicate hand, and her fingers wrap around the base, but she can’t get them all the way around.

  Her wide eyes lock on me as she laps at the tip of my cock, sending heat spattering through every inch of my body. I’m wound tight, my eyes shut as my head drops back when she takes me into her hot, wet mouth and sucks me until my shaft hits the back of her throat.

  Her soft gags echo as if they were on a loudspeaker and I’m the only listener. She doesn’t relent. Her hand grips my balls, rubbing and massaging them until my toes curl in pleasure.

  Her fat lips slide down the hard shaft until she finally takes me deeper. Her nose against my abs, and my hand tangles in her hair, holding her down, keeping her there until she slaps at my thighs.

  I release her after a few seconds, a smile gracing my lips as I open my eyes to meet her watery gaze. She’s crying now, her cheeks wet with the tears from choking on me, and I can’t deny the euphoria it brings me. My precum glistens on her pouty mouth, and I wish I could paint every inch of her in my cum. I want to see the white sticky fluid on her tanned olive skin.

  Creed allowed me to do this because he knew she would take it. I fuck her face mercilessly, causing spit to drop down onto her fat tits as they jiggle with every thrust of my hips.

  It doesn’t take long until I hold her against my groin and spill my release down her throat. I feel it work to swallow, and I smile when her hands grip my thighs in an attempt to push me away. I allow her mercy, just this time.

  “Such a good slut,” I tell her when I step back and tuck my dick back in my pants with a sneer. My hand gripping her cheeks to squeeze them, forcing her lips to pout and tears to streak down her pretty cheeks.

  “Okay, enough.” Creed is at her side, cooing in her ear, but he knows there would be no other way that would’ve played out. He pulls her into his arms and walks her off into the darkness. As much as he likes to think he’s bad, I’m worse. So much fucking worse.

  Pulling the hood over my head, I turn and race back into the darkness before the others can follow. I get lost in the woods before long and ignore Brody and Finn shouting for me.

  When I reach the lake, I settle into the small cave I’d found made of old trunks and pull out my smokes. Flicking the lighter, I lean back and inhale a lungful of nicotine, allowing it to calm my erratic heartbeat.

  A smile stays on my lips as I think about what just happened. Now they all know. At least, most of them do.

  I’m not an asshole.

  I’m not even a bastard.

  I’m a fucking sociopath.

  Stay in Thorne Haven with the next book in the series. One click A Cut so Deep and delve deeper into Damien Thorne’s story.

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  PROLOGUE

  NESRIN

  * * *

  Sixteen years old

  One thin slice.

  Just one touch of metal to flesh.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Pain. A pinch.

  And then, freedom.

  It’s only the second time I’ve done it, but I already know that it’s going to be so much better than talking to some rich bitch who makes notes on her iPad about my well-being. Not physically, no, she’s testing my mind to see if I’m ‘normal.’

  I laugh.

  It’s low. Nothing more than a giggle.

  Everything around me comes alive as I feel the warmth coat my skin. My hand is shaking, the blade drops from between my fingers, as pure relief shoots through my veins.

  I’ve heard all about how it works. The internet is an amazing thing. Anything I need or I crave, I can find it there. I’m no longer shaking. I feel at ease with the world. Like everything is going to be okay.

  Opening my eyes, I glance down at the incision I made, and a tear drops into the dark liquid. The deep crimson dribbles slowly. Languid in its path down my leg. As it escapes the thin slit, it takes my anxiety with it.

  The trickle slows, creating pretty patterns over the tanned flesh of my inner thigh.

  The euphoria is inexplicable.

  My body is so free. Relaxed. I’ve only ever felt like this when I accidentally cut my hand on a broken glass.

  It happened so suddenly.

  But the moment the sting caused me to whimper, it forced out the worries, which plagued me for months, years even. I’d been so numb, so empty, the cut forced breath back into my lungs. The anxious knot that constantly twisted in my gut eased, and it was a release of all the stress and fear that held me hostage.

  I was made to feel. Not expected to.

  Every day, I have to be polished, poised, and beautiful—the perfect daughter of the perfect couple, who lives in the most perfect house. Everything the media sees; all the photos are made to look like we’re happy.

  But we’re not.

  My father fucks half his company—all the women, obviously.

  My mother spends her days at the country club, where her pool boy tends to her needs that my dad no longer does.

  When they come home, they smile and play happy family, loving parents, and honest people. I’ve numbed myself to it all, I’ve emptied my soul and shoved it into a box that I’ll never open again.

  I have one year left before I can leave. Twelve months before I walk out of this place and never come back. The fancy rooms, the hefty bank account, the exquisite gifts, everything about it is fake; nothing more than a shiny surface for a filthy underbelly.

  The need to be away, far from my life, from the normal that I’ve become accustomed to burns through my veins, reminding me that I can never be loved in the way I need to. Not from my parents, and not from the boys at school.

  I’ve made my choice.

  It won’t take much for me to walk away because I want to leave this place and never come back. I want to find my own way, without the rules and regulations that my parents have imposed on me, where I have to be perfect all the time.

  Perfection is not real. It’s a myriad of broken pieces fit together just to shimmer when the light hits it. But, in reality, it’s broken, it’s shattered. Nothing more than an illusion to show off a poised, polished person that you can never be. Under scrutiny though, the fissures show up, and each time you fear someone might notice them, you add more jewels, add more makeup, more expensive clothes, hiding the ugly truth underneath.

  I look at the cut on my inner thigh, it’s not deep, but it’s enough to release the pent-up frustration that’s taken hold of me. Enough to make me feel alive, real. I push off the floor and wince when the skin tingles and stings.

  It’s high enough to be hidden from view. Only I know it’s there. Only I can see the truth of what I’ve done, and that’s how I know it needs to stay. I apply the plaster gently over the wound and pull the leg of my shorts down.

  Time to be the happy child they created. Time to be the perfect doll my parents have portrayed me as since I was born.

  And that all starts right now.

  Happy birthday to me.

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  Sneak Peek - A High so Sweet

  PROLOGUE

  KALYN

  “Run” – Snow Patrol

  * * *

  Seventeen years old

  One long sip.

  One long draw on the joint.

  Two long inhales, and it feels as if my head is sparking with electric currents, bringing a smile to my face.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  As the buzzing in my veins overtakes the pain and fear, I lean back against the cool concrete of the tombstone. The noise coming from the rest of the kids don’t bother me anymore. And as the alcohol takes its hold of me; I sigh as my body tingles with the excitement of what’s to come.

  Tonight is my last evening in this small town where everyone knows your name and if you don’t fit into their world, you’re shunned. There’s only one thing that I will miss about Thorne Haven, and that’s him. But he’s not here tonight. I know the Thorne brothers are off doing their own thing with their friends, and that’s okay.

  Actually, it’s not okay.

  I pull out my cell phone and unlock it. There are no messages from him. Not even a text to say goodbye. Scrolling through our chat, I ignore the sweet things he said, instead, focusing on the fact that he hasn’t responded to my last message.

  The one where I told him I’m leaving.

  There’s nothing here for me—that’s what my parents said. Mom wants to move to LA, where she’s convinced that I’ll have more opportunities than this town can offer. Dad’s company was more than willing to offer him a transfer to the Hollywood Hills. And me, I have no choice but to walk away from everything I’ve known: school, a home I’ve come to love, and him.

  “Hey, stop crying over that asshole,” one of the girls from my class, Brittany, says. She’s one of the popular girls, a cheerleader with big blue eyes and long blonde hair. She doesn’t always talk to me, but when she does, I can’t help but feel noticed.

  I’m the loner in our class. And I’m happy with it that way. An emotionally distraught young woman with issues, at least that’s what the psychiatrist told my folks. With each kid I know going to see a shrink, I’m not all that different, but sometimes, I feel so out of my comfort zone when it comes to these parties that I may as well be from another planet.

  “I’m not crying,” I tell her, tipping my chin in defiance as I take a long drag on my joint before flicking the butt and killing it with the heel of my Docs.

  Music blares from a car that pulls up, shining lights over us. A few of the girls standing around shriek, before they fall into a fit of giggles when they realize it’s the football team. Creed Haven saunters up to Brittany, pulling her into his arms and stealing her lips with his. The guy is an asshole, but he’s hot. I guess in a way that makes him think he has every right to take what he wants.

  “What’s up?” he greets me with a tip of his head. His eyes locking on me for a moment too long, and all I can do his shrug in response. I know he’s friends with Cassian, but I don’t ask the question that’s burning the tip of my tongue.

  I push to my feet, holding onto the tombstone as I do, because my head is spinning. I didn’t drink that much tonight. I’m sure of it. Glancing at the bottle I left on the ground, I realize it’s empty.

  Shit.

  “Are you okay?” Brittany asks, concern clear in her tone, making me giggle.

  “Yeah,” I assure her, before turning to walk off. But the moment I do, I slam into a body that’s solid steel. My gaze is slightly blurry, but there’s no doubt about who I’ve just walked into. At twenty, there’s no way you can call Cassian Thorne a boy any longer—he’s a man and it shows.

  “What are you doing?” he questions, his voice low, drenched in warning and disappointment, feathering in my ear when he speaks. “I thought I told you not to hang out here when I’m not around.” Even though he’s never touched me, kissed me, or made a move to show me he wants me, he’s always been there for me—watching over me like a protector.

  “I’m doing what every other kid here is doing,” I bite back, anger surging through me when I look up into those familiar teal-color irises, and for a moment, it’s as if he’s spinning in front of me, but I keep my focus on his face. The anger dancing in those sparkling eyes are nothing short of fury.

  “Get the fuck in my car,” Cassian growls, his hand gripping my arm as he pulls me toward the black Maserati sitting amongst the trees. I stumble over the uneven ground, almost falling against his strong, muscled back. The graveyard, we tend to loiter in, has a forest of beautiful oak trees. And amongst them are pathways and tarred roads that people use to drive up when visiting their loved ones who are buried here.

  “Let me go,” I grit through clenched teeth as I attempt to pull free from his hold, but I know it’s no use. I’m not strong enough to fight Cassian.

  “Hey man,” Creed’s voice echoes from where we’ve just left him and Brittany, which causes Cass to pause. “Don’t do anything I would.” He chuckles, and I notice how Cassian rolls his eyes at his friend. Just as we reach his car, a couple of guys walk up the road, and I recognize Finn, Cassian’s youngest brother, along with another guy I know is Creed’s brother, Brody.

  “You leaving already, Cass?” Finn asks his brother, a salacious smirk curling his lips as his glance flicks between us, then lands on where Cassian’s grip on my arm never wavers.

  “Yeah,” Cass responds, but doesn’t offer any more information. He pulls open the passenger door and practically throws me into the leather seat.

  “What’s going on? You really have it hard for this kid.” Finn chuckles, but Cassian’s serious expression has the laugh disappearing from his brother’s face.

  “I’m taking her home, and then, I’ll be back.” He doesn’t realize I can hear him through the window, or maybe he does, but he makes no move to hide the fact that he’s pissed.

  By the time he joins me in the car, I’m exhausted from the alcohol and the weed. The anger at my parents has eased. He doesn’t understand why I get high, why I drink. But I chose my path, I found a way to forget, to ease the burden.

  “I don’t like when you do shit like this,” Cassian speaks as he starts the engine and glances over at me. “You need to be careful, Kaly, there are bad people out there.”

  I laugh.

  I can’t help it.

  He sounds so much like my father right now, even though he’s nowhere near Dad’s age. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Cassian, we’re leaving tomorrow.” I can’t stop the bitterness from lacing my words, and I can’t bring myself to look at him; instead, I focus on the window as he pulls out of the cemetery and takes the turn back to town.

  We ride in silence for a while before he speaks again, “I care about you.”

  “Yeah?” I glance at him, taking in his profile. Sharp nose, angular jawbone, his hair is buzzed short, and his eyes, those fucking eyes that always seem to turn me into a mindless girl. He’s every girl’s fantasy, and every guy’s hero. They want to be him. They all want to be a Thorne. But nobody comes close.

  “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he says, but he doesn’t glance my way, and I want nothing more than to climb into his lap and force him to make eye contact with me. To tell me why he doesn’t want me.

  “Why?” Curiosity is clear in my tone.

  The corner of his mouth kicks up into an almost smile. That’s one thing about Cassian Thorne, he doesn’t usually show emotion. But with me, it’s there in those eyes. He may be angry, happy, or even turned on, and most people won’t know. But I do because he only gifts me with a window to his heart. And that’s what assures me there is something more between us.

  “Because you’re too young for me.”

  “Is that why you haven’t kissed me?” I challenge.

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls up to my house and my heart sinks into my stomach. I don’t want this to end. I want him to drive around forever, with me beside him. But I can’t and neither c
an he.

  I’m not the princess that gets saved by the handsome prince.

  I’m the girl who gets taken from her home and sent to a goddamned school for girls where they can make sure I behave myself. It’s all bullshit.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I tell him, knowing he won’t give me what I want—him. Even at seventeen, I know what I need, what I crave. I’m not a child. But Cassian is a gentleman. He’s never going to break.

  So instead of him giving in, he holds onto his restraint. Instead of having the one thing I do want, a connection with him, a physical one, I push open the door and get out of his car. I lean down before closing the door and say, “Goodbye.” Then slam it shut, not giving him a chance to reply.

  I turn for the house, opening the small pedestrian gate and step inside. I know his car is still there. But I don’t look. I don’t turn back to see him leave me, and as I blink, the emotion trickles from my lashes, wetting my cheeks.

  By the time I’m in my bedroom, I’m a mess. I shut myself in my bathroom and open the cabinet, taking everything out to find the little box I need. Inside, I pull out the sachet of white powder and cut two lines.

  The moment I inhale, I forget.

  I forget my pain.

  I forget my heartbreak.

  I forget Cassian.

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  Are you ready for Finn’s story? An arranged marriage, a twisted secret, and forced proximity leaves the youngest Thorne brother angry and frustrated…