Page 53 of Bed of Thorns

“Are you ready to see your surprise?”

“Hmmm… Maybe.”

He shook his head then seemed to notice something.

I followed his gaze, groaning. “My sketches.” Before the wind took them away, I snagged the pad as well as the empty glass, yanking my clothes into my other hand as I watched him standing stoically, observing everything I was doing. Then I backed away, laughing softly before racing toward the house.

He wasn’t far behind, but everything about him was oppressive, the man barely tossing his clothes onto the floor before taking long strides in my direction. I couldn’t read the look on his face.

Hope? Maybe.

Love? Possibly.

Obsession? Without a doubt.

“Go to the second bedroom.” His statement was more of a command.

He remained just inside the door, standing in all his naked glory, my mouth still watering. There was a tickling surge of excitement, curious as to what he’d done. A quick glance in the living room didn’t give away a thing. I’d be forced to follow his directions. He glanced down at the sketches I’d tossed on the table, huffing as he traced a single finger across his face.

His reaction wasn’t what I would have expected, his expression pensive. Then he lifted his head, his nostrils flaring. I had a feeling he’d devour me again before the night’s end.

I did as he asked, moving to the partially open door. There was no reason for me to hesitate, yet it seemed difficult for me to push it open.

When I did, the surge of emotions rushing through me was exactly like every other moment we’d been together. He’d left the light on, allowing me to see his dozens of purchases. There were at least ten blank canvases in various sizes, all lined up on the wall. A new table had been purchased, the vast array of paints and colored pencils unlike the limited quantities I’d managed to buy over the years. There were several sketch pads as well as drop cloths, other essential materials every creative painter needed. I stood staring in awe, uncertain what to say. The nagging from before returned, fear that in selling his soul to his devil, he’d remain a prisoner, chains firmly locked around him.

“What do you think?” he asked after I’d been inside for at least three minutes.

All of them with me remaining silent.

“How could you do this?” I finally asked, turning around in his direction.

“How? Or why?”

“Maybe both.”

“The how is because Adam believes in me, which in turn allows me to believe in you. Then there was the why. Your sketches are incredible, just like the painting you did. You’re talented. You’re special.”

I loved hearing his words, the sultry inflection that had made me swoon more than once. I was overwhelmed with the gift, fighting to find any words that could express my gratitude. “All I can say is thank you.”

“Come with me. There’s more.”

More. I wasn’t certain how much more I could handle at this point, but I trailed behind him and into the bedroom. He clicked on the light, moving away from the door so I could catch a glimpse of the surprise he’d provided.

Hundreds of rose petals had been strewn across the bed in various exquisite colors. Red. Pink. Yellow. Peach. I was shocked, incapable of saying anything.

He moved behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’m going to promise you a bed of roses.”

The moment he spun me around, every second of doubt faded away. There was a light in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before, as if the possibilities for the future were endless. I slid my arms around him, wrapping my fingers around his neck as he slowly lowered his head.

“After that, I’m going to give you the world,” he whispered before crushing his mouth over mine, the ferocity of his hunger knowing no bounds. He pushed me onto the bed, the sweet scent of rose mixing with our fragrance of desire as he lifted my leg, pushing his cock inside.

Then I closed my eyes, drifting away into another moment of rapture.

* * *

The wind and rain were fierce, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the water as it pelted over the car. Terror gripped the back of my mind, clawing at my thoughts, voices filtering in my ears. An argument. I’d heard an argument.

Yet the words didn’t make sense. I couldn’t grasp them. I had to find Edmond. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

---