Page 48 of Crush
Tuesday morning, I grab a muffin from Marta and a thermos of caramel coffee she’s made for me in advance, well used to my sweet tooth by now. I devour both while in the car with Dash, the fact that I’ve regained control over my situation fueling my hunger as well as my mental state.
When I reach the school, I can’t find Aiko. The usual bench she sits on for last-minute studying is vacant. This could mean two things: either she’s at a new favorite spot that she reserves for winter months, or something’s wrong, and she can’t make our usual meetup in the morning.
My heart churns with the latter. I’d skipped out at lunch yesterday when we were supposed to meet. Aiko has no idea what went on with Aurora because my night was filled with deep-breathing exercises and avoiding my phone in case Thorne decided to intrude electronically, too.
I neglected her in favor of burrowing into a safe hole. I have to rectify that immediately. Pausing at our bench, I pull out my phone to text her.
A hand clamps on my elbow, startling me. Yelping, I twist around, my phone clattering to the cobblestones.
As soon as I turn around, I wish I hadn’t.
Ruthless, savage energy hits me as soon as my eyes clash with his. Thorne’s thick, dark lashes can’t disguise the violence of the storm swirling within, casting his jewel blue eyes into eroded ocean rocks.
“I will kill her,” he seethes. “I will end her life on Winthorpe’s steps if she so much as glances in your direction.”
My heartbeat booms in my ears. Thorne’s threat isn’t directed at me, but the abhorrence in his expression, the sheer hatred pumping blood under his skin, tightens around my neck like a noose.
Thorne reaches up. His thumb grazes my cheek, but instead of me flinching at the touch, he does, like he wants to absorb my pain for himself.
And not for his pleasure. To provide me relief from the trauma.
Thorne pins me in place, but the look on his face motivates me to say, “I’m okay.”
His cold stare narrows. “You’re not. It’s why you lashed out at me yesterday. Why you’re not taking my calls and avoiding me. You thought I condoned Aurora’s actions.”
I don’t respond, choosing to hold my head up high instead. His fingers trail against my jaw. I inhale through my nose, hoping he doesn’t notice the hitches in my breath at his addictive, sweet touch.
“Let me be clear.” Thorne’s lips peel back from his teeth. “I will not, do not, have not, asked Aurora to perform such a disgusting act on you. Any pain on your part that I seek comes from me. Always.” He tilts his head, stroking my bottom lip. “I will never send someone else to do what I’m already an expert at.”
“Screw you.” Anger and desire collide in my throat, thickening my voice. “You don’t have the right to be pissed that someone else assaulted me instead of you.”
Thorne’s eyes flash.
“Assault you?” he asks in a low, threatening tone. One I should take a warning and walk away from. “Is that what I’m doing to you?”
Thorne moves closer, invading my space, knocking his chest against mine. This is what it’s like with him—suffocating, heated, dangerous—so opposite from Zeke. I’m desperate to shy away while needing his heat to warm my bones at the same time. Desire and hate. Violence and peace. He brings it all out of me.
Snarling, he cups my sex beneath my skirt, palming me through my underwear and heedless of any other students nearby.
My gasp of shock is fast overtaken by fury. I lash out, grasping him at his throat and digging my nails in.
He doesn’t flinch. My grip raises his chin a notch, gifting him with a much better vantage point to look down his nose at me. Thorne’s nostrils flare. He doesn’t try to escape from my grip, even when my nails pop through the thin, delicate skin of his throat.
“I only do this because you like it. Push me away. Go on.” He strokes a finger between my folds. “Show me how much you can’t stand me at the same time you get my fingers wet.”
“You deserve what I said to you in class yesterday. Accept the truth of yourself. You’re poison.” I funnel my entire strength into my palm, squishing his Adam’s apple, cutting off his air supply.
Thorne smirks.
“Goddammit—fuck you!” I cry, tears coating my vision. “Fuck you!” I peel away from his throat because I need two hands to pummel him. To punch at his chest and fuck him up like he’s fucked me. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you!”
“Easy,” he murmurs, grabbing my arms mid-flight. He let me get a few punches in, but not nearly enough. Never enough.
Sobbing, I keep trying.
Thorne overpowers me, swinging his arms around my back and pulling me into his chest, tightening his hold until I smell nothing but soap, chlorine, and him.
I still fight, pushing him away like he dared me to, a challenge I can actually complete.