Page 30 of Bed of Thorns

As one climax rushed into a second, I could tell he was close to coming. Just the act of squeezing my muscles was so intimate, yielding to his demands, that all I could do was throw my head back and scream.

His body continued to shake as he filled me with his seed. Steam floated over us, perspiration trickling down both sides of my face.

He dragged me closer, pinning me against his chest and nuzzling my neck. The quiet moment was as much a moment of bliss as the carnal act we’d just performed.

“You’re coming with me,” he stated in a breathless whisper. While his tone wasn’t as demanding as before, I felt the same urgent burning need we’d both experienced as well as a forlorn unthinkable dread. Very slowly he turned me to face him, cupping my face in such a way I knew he’d never let me go.

His eyes pierced mine, the obsidian cloud forming impossible to look away from. The man wasn’t taking no for an answer. This wasn’t happening. I couldn’t leave the world I knew. I just…

Then again, how could I live without him? I had to make a decision. Either trust someone I didn’t know or lose him forever. My heart racing, I brought my fist to my mouth, trying to control my breathing. Then I knew, a strange peace flowing through me. While my life would never be the same, I refused to doubt myself any longer. I knew what I wanted. I knew what was needed.

There was no real life without him being a part of it. This was my chance to break free. Of the ugliness from the past. Of the abusive relationship I’d fought to get out of. And of the fear that would remain if I stayed. But I would never, ever tell him about William or the monster who’d nearly broken me in New York. Maybe I was betraying Edmond again, but I couldn’t risk seeing his anger. I couldn’t stand the thought of how it would eat him up inside. So, I’d forget.

As I tried to find the right words, he lowered his gaze as if he’d lost all hope.

“I’ll come with you, Edmond, but you need to make me a single promise. You will not kill your father.”

I had to make the request. Edmond couldn’t seek revenge. Would he honor my promise? Would he lie to me? He lifted his head, his breathing easier than I’d seen it before. When he spoke, I had to strain in order to hear him, but once I understood what he was saying, another wave of gripping fear wrapped around my heart.

“I have no intention of killing my father, Mercedes, but when I’m finished with him, I won’t have to. He’ll do it himself.”

CHAPTER8

“Bittersweet memories may hurt, but they’ve made us who we are. We can never go back, but we wouldn’t trade the memories for anything.”

—Susan Gale

Edmond

I loathed the term bittersweet, especially when my mind used it in reference to the place where I’d grown up. I’d taken a full day to walk down familiar streets, realizing how much certain trees had grown and noticing where new buildings had replaced another one. I’d looked for my favorite local fast-food joint, eager to indulge in a familiar taste, only to find it had been boarded up some number of years ago. I’d even been so self-indulgent as to drive by my old high school.

I’d excelled in sports, especially football, thinking I was all that and a bag of chips when I’d become captain of the team. I’d stood just outside the fence to the stadium, memories so fresh they seemed like they’d happened only yesterday. Then they faded into the distance much like my life had been driven into hell.

While I hadn’t done well on the academic side, I was damn good with numbers, and math and accounting were my two best classes. I’d even dabbled into financial planning, although my great father hadn’t allowed me the time to go to community college to earn a degree or pass the grueling Securities Exchange tests that would allow me to add financial advisor after my name.

So, I’d gotten a fucking degree in accounting instead, the online classes also keeping me sane.

At least to some degree.

If only I’d known then what I knew now, different choices would have been made. Or would they have been? While I’d wanted to leave Port Christy at some point like all kids did, I’d always thought in the back of my mind I’d return home one day.

What was the saying?

You could never go home again.

I’d found out through the ugliness of my memories, additional hate crawling inside my mind that it was the truth.

Lamenting had caused too many memories to surface of the good times.

And the bad ones.

I’d lied to Mercedes about the night of the murder, which wasn’t what I’d intended on doing. Sadly, I wasn’t certain what to say to her. The horror of that night remained images in a shadowy fog. Even now, trying to piece together the snippets of reality was more difficult than I could have imagined.

The year I’d worked with my father had been a slow descent into darkness. The once exciting thought of becoming his vice president of operations had quickly faded, maybe after the first time he’d thrown me against the wall, wrapping his fat hand around my throat and threatening to kill me. I should have walked then, but I’d committed to the job.

To the servitude.

I glanced over at Mercedes, sighing for the tenth time. She’d remained quiet after I’d managed to convince her to come with me. Leaving everything she’d known wasn’t going to be easy for her. The few items she’d decided to take with her didn’t include her ten-year-old vehicle or anything other than clothes and a few boxes, all neatly packed away in the truck bed.

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