Page 63 of Riot's Thorn
“I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I just had to know who you really are!” I shout into his face.
“Why? Because seeing me blow your dad’s brains out wasn’t enough?”
I wince at the cruelty of his words. “Fuck you, Riot!”
“Are my words too harsh? I’m not the sugar-coating kind of guy. You already know that.”
“Get off me! I want to go home.”
“I don’t think so. You said you wanted to know who I am, but you only got a brief look. So maybe I should tell you exactly what I did to him.” He slams my wrists against the ground, rocks embedding in my skin. “I pulled out every single one of his fingernails, and then I sodomized him with a round bristle brush?—”
“Stop! I don’t want to know.” I shake my head back and forth, as if my ears can escape his words.
“After I rammed the round brush up his ass, I beat the shit out of him with my bare hands. Does that tell you who I am, Little Thorn?”
A rock is digging into my back, and I try to twist away from it. Now the adrenaline is wearing off, the pain is settling in. “Get off me!”
“Not a chance. Answer my question.” There’s still an edge to his tone, but it’s tapered off a little, and because I know how much vulnerability is hiding behind this murderous character he’s created, I know he’s nervous about what I’ll say.
“No. I didn’t know this version of you. You’re not the same person who loves on his rats and does whatever he can to take care of me.”
“You’re wrong. I’m the same person here as I am there. You just choose to believe I’m a better person than I am.”
“Why?” I ask.
He cocks his head. “Why what?”
“Why did you do those things to him?”
“Does it matter?”
“With you? Yes.”
His hold loosens, and his gaze shifts to over my shoulder. “Killer got Chaplain’s medical report. She had split and cracked nails from trying to claw into the floor as he dragged her.”
“So you pulled his fingernails out?” I surmise.
He nods. “He vaginally and anally penetrated her with a round brush. Tore her insides up and left it inside her.”
“Jesus.” My stomach turns.
“He beat the shit out of her. Cracked ribs, bruised face. The only thing he didn’t do to her that we’ll do to him is kill him. Does that clue you in on the kind of monster I am?”
The moment turns from anger to tenderness, and I have no idea how. I’ve always been level-headed and calm, but ever since I met this man, I’m all over the place. Angry, sad, annoyed, scared, turned on. . . Every other emotion is keyed up, just waiting to be put into play.
I answer him with a question of my own. “How do you see yourself?”
He dips down and drags his teeth across my earlobe, giving it a little tug. Despite lying on the dirty desert ground out in the open, right after seeing some of the most horrific things I’ve ever seen in my life, my core clenches.
“I’m the man who’s going to fuck you right here out in the open.”
“We can’t,” I protest, but it’s breathy because he’s biting into the thin skin of my neck, and I like the feel of his teeth.
“You fucked up, so you don’t get to decide.” He pushes up onto his knees and yanks down my shorts and panties. Hot desert air hits parts that have never been exposed outside, and even though I half-heartedly fight him, a little thrill shoots through me as I look around, making sure we’re alone. “Worried someone will see? You should be. If anyone looks out those windows at the ranch, they’ll see exactly what I’m about to do to you.”
