Page 55 of Bed of Thorns

And…

No. No. No! I refused to believe what I’d seen. That wasn’t possible. Edmond wasn’t capable. He just…

A sudden noise outside made me clutch the sheets, the shadows from the room reaching out, angry red eyes glowing all around me.Please. Please don’t. Just stop.As I bit my lip to keep from crying out, I turned my head, and I could swear there was a strange glow surrounding Edmond’s naked body. He was so beautiful, his muscles glistening in the moonlight splashing in through the open door. I remained transfixed by his magnificence, allowing my gaze to fall down the hard sculpture of his legs. He was a powerful man, likely intimidating to anyone who met him, but to me he remained my hero, a man destined for greatness.

And sorrow.

He seemed peaceful in his slumber, his face almost angelic in the limited light. No longer were his demons fighting to be freed, if only for this precious moment in time. I reached out, keeping my fingers just centimeters away as I traced the rigid lines of his face and jaw, breathing quietly as I eased my hand down the length of his outstretched arm, moving up one finger and down the other. Then I clutched my fingers closed, bringing my fist to my mouth, my heart firing off rapidly. This wasn’t real.

I shifted my hand across the roses, noticing dozens of petals had drifted to the floor given our hours of passion. Even in the darkness, they remained a beautiful reminder of our burning desire and scorching love. This was a love story, but one built in tragedy.

I closed my eyes and a strange vision popped into my mind, the claws of the nightmare digging into my skin.

It was no longer a bed of roses but one of thick, spiny thorns.

CHAPTER13

Mercedes

Three weeks later

Time.

It had once passed slowly in my life, days turning into nights then weeks, all with a heaviness that had been difficult to suppress. Now, the days clipped by, the nights glorified by even more intense passion. Edmond was insatiable in all things.

Sex.

Food.

Work.

He’d consumed himself in the task of passing several important tests, the grueling schedule he’d maintained admirable, his drive unlike any I’d ever experienced before. But there was a strange vibe buried deep within him, something I’d been unable to ignore. He was a man on a mission, but what that was remained a partial mystery. He’d refused to talk any longer about his past or his father, claiming that his renewed energy and love for life allowed him to forgive and forget.

But I knew better.

I’d searched for the box he’d taken near his mother’s grave, but wherever he’d hidden it remained a secret. Whatever information was held inside, he wasn’t ready to use. Still, I remained curious, hoping whatever details were inside would cease the anxiety or the questions lurking in the back of my mind.

I could see the fury that remained in his eyes, a lion waiting for the right moment to break through the tight confines of his cage. For all the happiness he exuded, it couldn’t take away the aching nausea that often threatened to consume me.

For all the time he spent with his head buried in books or online, he’d found time to create the perfect art studio. I felt at peace when inside, the bright light of the morning sun providing the perfect backdrop for allowing the creative process to flow. I often found him standing silently in the doorway, watching me paint.

He never said anything, no emotion on his face, but his body heat remained extreme, his chest always heaving. Maybe I was fearful of asking his thoughts, but his non-reaction kept me painting, one work of art turning into several.

New blank canvases appeared every so often, placed in the exact same position every time. I’d never caught him bringing them inside. He’d never said anything about the new purchases he’d made, but the entire rental house had been transformed into something else entirely, the existing furniture placed in storage.

Or so I’d been told.

As I awaited his return home, I stood on the deck like I’d done hundreds of times. He’d been determined to take all three of the grueling tests today even though it had been recommended he do them one at a time. That wasn’t Edmond. He was all or nothing.

I took a sip of wine, suddenly thinking about the dream from weeks before. I’d yet to have another one about that night, but the visions remained furrowed in the back of my mind. Their replacement had been about William and his strange behavior following me home. Even for him, his behavior had been different than usual, demanding yet there’d been something I hadn’t found a way to put my finger on until now.

Fear.

He’d smelled of fear, riddled with anxiety, which had likely caused his erratic behavior. Even his eyes had been wild, as if he was running from something, trying to escape. There was no reason for me to be thinking about that now, but I hadn’t been able to get it off my mind.

I needed answers. I craved the truth, even though it could shatter all the beauty that had been created. Living my life without knowing had drained a portion of my life away, leaving a dull ache that nothing could seem to soothe. What had really happened that night?

Shaking the ugly feeling had been impossible, no matter how many paintings I’d done or how delicious the limited time was that we’d spent together. The swirling unknown remained, the ache a constant.

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