A Cut so Deep (Thornes & Roses Book 1)

by Dani René

  “I need to take a piss,” Finn says from the back.

  “Be careful what you say, we have a lady in the car,” Cass admonishes him, but Finn’s chuckle tells me that he doesn’t give a shit if the Queen of England was sitting beside him, our youngest brother will say anything he likes.

  “She’ll need to get used to it,” Finn responds. “Right, little sis?”

  “Don’t mind me.” Nesrin’s tone seems amused, but I can’t see her face, and deep down, I realize I’m dying to look at her. To study her features and take in those golden eyes.

  “See,” Finn says full of confidence. “Three guys and one girl. I like the odds.” Something in his tone sets my body tight with tension. The games we’ve played with girls in the past spark in my mind, and I can’t stop the images that play on a loop.

  Perhaps we can introduce our sister to the game we like to play. And she’ll become the rose amongst the Thornes.

  Now that will be something to see in the dark.

  8

  Damien

  It’s been a long, painful drive.

  Too many people in my fucking car.

  By the time we pull up to the house, I’m out of the vehicle and sauntering toward it. Leaving Finn and Cass to deal with our new stepsister is my plan, but even as I push open the front door, I know I’m already hooked. Like a fucking teenager, wanting to know more about the girl he’s intrigued by.

  But that’s not me, so I ignore Cass calling to me to help with her suitcases. Even though the rest of her belongings are arriving on the truck in a couple of days, I don’t feel the need to be a bag boy for her.

  I’m angry.

  I’m frustrated.

  And I’m hungry.

  Heading straight for the kitchen, I find Joy at the stove. The older woman who’s worked for my father, far longer than I can remember, smiles at me when I saunter in.

  “There’s my boy,” she says, turning to me with a wooden spoon held up. “Taste this.” The scent of tomatoes, spices, and something else fill the air. It’s been a long nineteen hours on the road. Thankfully, with three of us driving, we didn’t have to stay over anywhere. That wouldn’t have gone down well.

  I lean in and take the tip of the spoon in my mouth, and my taste buds burst with flavors. “That’s good, Mama Joy,” I tell her with a wink. Moments later, three bodies enter the kitchen, catching Joy’s attention, and I glance over my shoulder to meet her gaze. The golden-brown shimmering eyes that draw me in hold me hostage for a moment, not too long, but long enough.

  “And who is this young beauty?” Joy coos, as she races toward Nesrin. “I’m Joy, you can call me Mama, just like the boys do,” she informs our new stepsister, which only irritates me more. She has no right to call her anything because she shouldn’t be here.

  I move through the space, pushing open the door and making my way out into the garden. I can’t be in the same space as her. Even though I’m dying to inhale her scent, to delve into her mind and see what secrets she has hidden there, I can’t. I know I can’t because my father will kill me.

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Cass’s voice comes from behind me, but I don’t turn to regard my brother. I can’t because, if I do, he’ll notice that I’m affected by the new girl.

  “What would there be to tell you?” Even as I ask it, I hear the inflection of frustration in my voice. Normally, I can play it cool, but the irritation that’s got a hold of me has latched its claws in, and I don’t see how I’ll be free of it.

  “I don’t know, D,” he says, stepping up beside me. Staring out at the garden, I realize now why my father had that atrocity installed. The greenhouse sits far behind our house, filled with plants and flowers of every color. But most of all, the roses that seem to blossom in their pots.

  He chose to get it set up a month ago and had a variety of specialists in to set up the greenery. But it was only when he had those roses brought in that I was fascinated. Now I know why.

  Our stepmother has a love of the flower. Naming her daughter Nesrin, which means Wild Rose in Persian, has to be a sign that he was trying to impress her.

  “There’s nothing to say,” I tell him, finally facing my brother. “I’m just making sure that I keep my distance like father wanted.” I make a move to go inside, but Cassian is hot on my heels. In the kitchen, we find it empty, but I can hear Joy gushing over Nesrin.

  I’m not sure where Finn has disappeared to, but I would hazard a guess that he’s gone into town to meet up with one of his fuck buddies. Even though Thorne Haven is small, my youngest brother has found a way around it by fucking every girl within a ten-mile radius of Thorne Manor.

  “You don’t have to lie to me,” Cassian says, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. He’s trying to goad me, taunting me, so I will admit I find Nesrin attractive.

  “And what lie would that be?”

  “You know you can’t go for her,” he tells me, something that’s glaringly clear to me. Even good old Bradford made sure that I was well aware the girl was off-limits.

  “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not averse to fucking beautiful women, but she’s nothing more than a girl. That’s all. And also, I didn’t realize that keeping it in the family meant that she was even on the table.” Tipping my head to the side, I narrow my eyes on Cass, whose mouth has quirked playfully. The fucker always gets to me, no matter how I try to ignore him.

  “Just saying, big brother,” he says. “Just saying.” I watch him retreat toward the gym, and I’m tempted to join him, not because I want to work out, but just to focus on something other than the fact that her bedroom is opposite mine.

  I head up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When I reach my bedroom door and shove it open, I’m tempted to turn to glance at hers. I wonder if she’s inside, or if she’s decided to shower before dinner.

  Shaking my head to clear the images that the thought conjures, I shut my door with a kick so harsh, the wood reverberates sending vibrations through the walls. The first thing I do is flick on the music and strip off my clothes. In my attached bathroom, I turn on the shower and step under the spray, before it has time to heat.

  The cold bristles against my skin. My lungs pull in a quick breath before I close my eyes and focus on everything other than the girl who’s merely a few meters away from me.

  Back in my bedroom, I pull on a pair of black jeans, my boots, and a navy-blue shirt that I button up, leaving the top four buttons undone. I roll up my cuffs to my elbows and stare at my reflection.

  “I can do this,” I shrug easily, but even as I say it, I’m not convinced. The drive here was difficult. Being so close to her and not reaching for her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. But I did it. Now, all I have to do is ignore her, and I’ll be fine.

  I can’t describe the need to be near her. Perhaps it’s because I know I can’t have her. Besides the fact that she’s far too young for me, she’s also my stepsister. She’s too innocent for me to corrupt because if I were to partake of the forbidden fruit that’s only a few meters away, I can’t guarantee that I won’t end up breaking her heart.

  But that doesn’t mean I don’t notice her beauty. With her long dark hair, those luminous gold eyes, and her pouty lips, I was intrigued from the moment I first saw her. Counting in those incredible curves and her fiery personality, she’s everything wet dreams are made of and more.

  And I am a man. Certainly not a blind one.

  When I pull open my bedroom door, I’m met with the golden eyes of Nesrin, as she steps out into the hallway. It’s big enough to offer space between us, but it still feels too close for comfort.

  “I… I don’t know if it’s time to go down for dinner,” she tells me. I should appease her, tell her I’ll show her down, but I don’t. Being an asshole has always come naturally to me. This time, it’s no different.

  I offer a nod and turn to walk away. I’m halfway down the hall when Nesrin speaks to my back.

 
; “You know, hating me because of our parents getting married doesn’t change the fact that we’re family.” Her voice carries all the way to me. I turn my head, glancing at her from over my shoulder. I take her in from where I’m standing.

  She’s dressed in a pair of tight yoga pants, the color of soft gray clouds. Her top is tight, long-sleeved, thank god, but it accentuates her slight curves. She’s nothing like the girls I normally go for, so it makes no fucking sense as to why I’m so intrigued by her.

  “Hate is a wasted emotion, Nesrin. It only makes us weak.”

  “And what does love do?” she challenges. No woman, no girl, has ever challenged me. I can’t help but smile at her when she steps closer. The soft, gentle scent of her perfume assaults me, and my body shudders with the need to pin her against the wall. My need to touch her is visceral. I can’t explain it. I don’t like it. I never want to be weakened by emotions.

  I shake my head and chuckle. “Love is an excuse for people to get addicted, obsessed, and for them to change who they are.”

  “What if it doesn’t change who you are? What if it only makes you a better person, bringing out the best in who you are?” she continues, her voice coming out strained.

  “Does your mother love my father?”

  “My mother isn’t capable of love, never in my life have I seen her truly happy. When my father was alive, she didn’t care if he came home or not. My father, on the other hand, he loved her, he would do anything for her—”

  “Then, your father was a stupid man. He did everything for her, but she never wanted it. Did she?”

  “I…”

  “I know this farce of a wedding is nothing more than a leg up to gain exposure. If you ask me, I think they deserve each other. Both fake. Both cold and barren. And both only in it for the money and fame.”

  Nesrin’s expression changes quickly, as if I’d just slapped her. I expect her to lash out at me, but she shocks me when she nods. “I know. And that’s why I don’t want to fight with you, or Cass and Finn. I don’t have anyone in my life besides my aunt. My mother doesn’t love me. She never has. I grew up knowing that I was never going to have a normal family.”

  “Well,” I say, turning to regard her fully, “if you think moving in here will bring you a normal family, you’re sorely mistaken.” I spin on my heel and head down the hall, leaving her in the darkened space.

  9

  Nesrin

  Frustration trickles through me as I make my way to the greenhouse I spotted when we arrived. A memory assaults me with a vengeance the moment I step foot over the threshold. The last time I walked into my mother’s greenhouse, I saw him. The way he was enjoying his pleasure had heat trickling through me, reminding me of just how inexperienced I am.

  I watched a scene that hasn’t left my mind since. The moment I think back on that night, jealousy burns through me, and even though I try to convince myself I was more angry than envious, I know it’s a lie.

  I can’t deny I wanted to be the girl who offered him pleasure. To watch from my knees, as he took my mouth and used it for his pleasure. To have that power over him would be surreal. Every fantasy I’ve had since has confirmed to me that I wanted to be the girl who made him grunt and growl like a feral animal.

  But I can’t show him. I can’t admit it because, if I do, I know he’ll break me. He’s not the type of guy you introduce to your folks. Not the type of man that my mother wants me to be married to. So, instead of admitting it out loud, that I crave his touch, I’ve only ever allowed myself to think it in the darkness of my bedroom.

  Shaking my head, I focus on the task at hand. I tentatively run my fingers along the petals and smile. A beautiful, soft pink that looks too fragile to touch. I smile when I inhale the sweet fragrance, my eyes closing in enjoyment.

  The sweet, lingering scent reminds me of my mother’s garden before she became far too important to bother with it. I smile when I recall the past when I remember just how happy we were.

  But then a more recent memory takes hold of me. One of which is the cause of my twisted need and darkest fantasies. The night of the reception. When I first laid eyes on Damien Thorne.

  Even the gentle perfume of the flower doesn’t change the feeling that’s gnawing in my gut, reminding me that, even though I’m living in this impressive house, he will also always be around.

  And for some reason, Damien Thorne has made it his mission to taunt me at every turn. As handsome, charming, and intelligent as he is, I need to stay away from him. But even though I chastise myself for thinking about him, I still find myself caught in his web.

  Lured in by the sparkling blue eyes and charismatic smirk.

  “You look good bent over like that.” His deep, seductive voice comes from behind me. Spinning on my heel, I meet his cerulean gaze, and it burns right through me. The memory that scampered in earlier, now returning, as I look at the wolfish smirk that tilts his lips.

  Dressed in a pair of black jeans, a crisp light blue shirt—which is teasingly unbuttoned, offering just enough smooth, tanned skin to taunt me—and heavy black boots, I wonder briefly where he’s headed.

  “What are you doing in here?” It’s stupid to ask him that since it’s his home. I’m the newcomer. He doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a few steps toward the opposite corner from where I’m standing and picks up a pot that holds a dark red rose. This one is alone in the soil, with thorns threatening anyone who dares come near it.

  “Your mother enjoys looking at pretty things,” he muses, as he twists the flower this way and that. His focus is on the plant, but still, my heart feels like it’s about to break free from my rib cage.

  “You didn’t answer me.” My voice comes out softer than I intend, but it causes him to turn around. When those deep blue eyes are on me, I feel like I’m being scrutinized. Perhaps I am. One thing’s for sure, Damien Thorne doesn’t play around when it comes to any actions he makes. I know this because his eyes narrow, assessing me before he sets down the rose and turns fully toward me.

  He takes three long strides before he’s inches from me. The scent of his cologne reminds me of rain and freshly cut grass. It’s a refreshing scent that’s mingled with citrus.

  “I like pretty things, too,” he murmurs, as he reaches for a loose curl that’s escaped my messy bun. He twines it around his finger, until there’s no more give, and then tugs hard until tears sting my eyes.

  But I don’t allow myself to make a sound. He likes toying with girls, I’m sure of it, just like he’s doing to me. I’m convinced he can hear my thoughts because he twists his hand even harder, forcing wetness to form on my lashes from the sting. A sly smirk graces his classically handsome face, joy in my agony.

  Perhaps he wants me to cry, to beg him to stop, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me shed a tear or hearing me plead for mercy.

  If only he knew why I can’t cry. Pain prickles my scalp, for a moment, before Damien releases me as if I’ve burned him.

  His eyes spark with a flame so destructive, it threatens to engulf me in its inferno. The way his mouth tilts, his full lips curling into a sinister smirk, makes every nerve in my body come alive.

  “Are you going to be my pretty thing, Nesrin?” he asks, as he tips his head to the side. “Will you let me have you, enjoy you, until I’ve had my fill, even though I really shouldn’t?” He regards me through a shrewd gaze. His question diminishes any need that burned through me seconds ago.

  “You may be used to girls throwing themselves at you, but I’m not them, and I never will be.” My words are filled with venom, but he doesn’t seem perturbed at my retort. The smile that curls his lips only seems to brighten and the dimples that deepen in either cheek do nothing to stop the flurry of hummingbirds in my stomach.

  It’s stupid, really. I shouldn’t be looking at him like this. And I certainly shouldn’t be feeling like a teenage girl with a crush, but Damien Thorne is just that—something my young heart would love to learn more about.
He’s handsome, sexy, and he has a voice that could melt ice cream. Even though he’s aloof most times, there’s a seductiveness to him that I’m drawn to.

  “Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice, Nesrin?” he asks, as he tugs my lock of hair once more. The darkness of the impending storm gathering outside seems to encroach on us, filling the bright and sunny greenhouse with shadows.

  I meet those ice-blue eyes in an attempt to seem unperturbed by his nearness. “Why would I be jealous?”

  “Let me make this clear, I’m not going to lie to you to protect those delicate emotions of yours, Nesrin.” His words still me. What could he throw at me verbally to hurt me?

  “You don’t need to protect me from anything, Damien.” I push by him, wanting to put some distance between us, but he’s fast. His hand shoots out to grab my wrist, spinning me around, until I’m flush with him, and his other arm wraps around my waist.

  “Even from myself?” he challenges, with a glint of mischief that shines in his eyes. His dark brow raised, as those dimples threaten to have me falling deeper under his spell. “Because I’m the most dangerous one there is, Nesrin. And you have no way of fighting me off.”

  My mouth falls open, but no words come out. I want to tell him I hate him, to push him away, maybe even to knee him in the groin, but my body is rigid with shock and need swirling together.

  He leans in closer, so close, in fact, I can feel the heat of his breath feathering over my cheek. My heart skids to a halt, then beats wildly against my ribs, when I feel the softness of his lips on the heated skin of my jaw.

  His mouth brushes along my ear, leaving white-hot electric sparks in its wake. Then he whispers, “But something tells me you like that. You like the danger, the passion, the mystery. Which means, if I slipped my hand between those pristine, caramel thighs of yours, I’d find your panties soaked. Just for me.”

  Anger and humiliation rage inside me. A battle of hate and lust rages within, just like the strike of lightning that shutters outside—sparking the darkened sky with a streak of warning—and the silence is shattered, causing me to yelp in shock.