Heart of Thorns (Shadow Valley U Book 2)
Heart of Thorns: Chapter 20

I scan the text again, then shove my phone into my pocket. Rhys sent it almost an hour ago, followed by an address, and I had to work up the nerve to climb out of bed and throw clothes on.

My body hurts from a particularly grueling practice. An ice bath would probably do the trick on my sore muscles, but I just can’t find it in me to do that tonight. Instead, I climb the steps of the front porch and get hit with a wave of loud, pulsing music.

I grit my teeth and continue onward. I haven’t seen Briar since our workout session last night, though not for lack of trying. Today was a full schedule for me. Classes, a meeting with my academic advisor, a late team lunch, and then evening practice. I don’t think I stopped moving until I pitched myself into bed… but even that was short-lived.

Once I’m in the house, though, my mood lightens. Some teammates bump my fist as I pass. I catch a glimpse of one of the hockey guys whose house we’re in and nod a greeting. Evan Mitchell is a pretty cool dude. We only know each other in passing, though.

If half the football team wasn’t here, I probably wouldn’t just show up.

“What are we celebrating?” I ask one of the other hockey players.

“We won our third straight home game!”

I grin and clap him on the shoulder, then push deeper into the house.

Honestly, I have no idea what the 9-1-1 from Rhys was about, and I don’t see him anywhere. Someone shoves a cup into my hand, and they yell something in my ear about my girlfriend.

Girlfriend?

Briar is here?

My head swings around, but there’s no sign of her in the front rooms. Or the kitchen. Finally, in the dining room, I spot her.

Black, long-sleeved shirt—typical. Black jeans. Chunky jewelry.

Her hair is in a high ponytail, and a few pieces around her face have escaped the tie. She seems to be sweating slightly, because strands stick to her forehead.

She’s at one end of a beer pong game, her tongue slightly poking out, an eye scrunched up. She tosses the ping-pong ball and howls when it goes into one of the cups.

Jealousy churns my stomach.

Why didn’t she tell me she was going out?

We had plans earlier that she blew off. Not a huge deal, I figured time just got away from her. If there’s one thing I can’t be, it’s clingy.

At this moment, though? I want to be. I want to be glued to her side.

I want to be her beer pong partner.

I want to kiss her again. Pick her up, have her wrap her legs around my hips. Press her against a wall and⁠—

“Thorne!”

I tune back in to the present just in time for Briar to pitch herself at me. I catch her—of course I fucking catch her—and let her momentum swing us around. Her arms wind around my neck, and she plasters her chest to mine. I barely manage to keep from spilling my cup, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve got her.

One hand across the small of her back, the arm with the cup against her side.

Her eyes are huge, glassy, her pupils huge.

“I’m so fucking happy to see you.” She grabs my cheeks and drags my face down, and she plants a sloppy kiss on my lips.

My brows furrow when she leans back. Her palms are hot on my face.

“You okay?” I ask.

“So much better now that you’re here.” She grins. “Can you help me win? I think I’m losing.”

She releases my face and latches on to my wrist instead. She tows me to her side of the table, where a guy across from her waits expectantly.

There’s only one cup left in front of us, and four on the other end. I grimace and wet a ball, tossing it fast.

It goes in.

The guy across from me drinks without complaint, then tosses the ball. It sails into the final cup without so much as a wobble, and Briar reaches for it.

“I’ve got it,” I say. I pluck out the ball and gulp down the beer. “What now?”

“Now…” She bites her lip.

I want to bite her lip.

“We should dance!”

I quirk my lips, but I follow her. Again. I’m captivated by her, but I don’t even care. We find the section of the house that’s been designated a dance floor, and she shoves her way through. She’s not limping—which probably means she’s going to feel it tomorrow—and she doesn’t seem to mind the crowd pressing in on her.

But I’m not going to turn down the feel of her body against mine, so I plunge through the crowd after her and grasp her waist. I pull her close, and we move to the music. She inches closer, until my knee is between her legs, and she grinds on me.

Her head tips back, and she lets out a groan.

“What did you take?” I ask in her ear. I nip her lobe.

“Oh, fuck.” She tilts to the side, giving me more room. “Just a little…”

“A little what?”

“Can you feel that?” She runs her hands down her front, her fingers dipping into the waistband of her jeans. “There’s electricity between us, Cassius.”

I grab her hand and twist her around. Her ass in my groin. My dick comes alive, stiffening in my jeans, poking into her ass. She rolls her hips and leans her weight on me.

“I think we need to find a room,” she pants. “Right now.”

“But I’m not done with you.” My lips trail across her jaw and down her neck. “I thought you wanted to dance.”

“I…”

I suck at her skin. Kiss. Suck. Nip.

She groans.

“What did you take, kitten?” I ask again.

“Some girls were doing X in line for the bathroom.” Her gaze crashes into mine. “To be fair, I didn’t know what it was until after I took it.”

X, as in… ecstasy.

No fucking wonder.

“You took a random drug from a stranger without asking a few questions first?”

She giggles. “Sorry.”

Oy.

I steady her when she sways a bit too much.

“You okay?” I ask, my lips at her ear. To be heard over the music, obviously.

“Just a bit lightheaded.” She blinks hard. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Her knees buckle, but unlike the last time she passed out on me, I’m not across the room. I swing her up into my arms before she can hit the floor. She giggles again and loops her arms around my neck.

“My savior.”

Heat works its way up my neck, but I smile down at her anyway. We garner quite a few looks as I carry her out of the party. I put her in my car, grateful I didn’t drink more than that quarter cup of warm beer from the game, and slide behind the wheel.

Her hands immediately reach for me.

“Kitten,” I admonish quietly, the darkness almost making her more alluring. I catch her hands and thread my fingers through hers. “You’re not in your right mind.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she argues. “I want you.”

I groan. My dick twitches in response, but it’s out of luck.

I drive us home one-handed, the other keeping her wandering hands in her lap, playing with my fingers. She traces a nail around my knuckles, humming to herself, until I park in my spot at the house.

“Oooh, are you going to take me to bed?” She smiles. “Ravage me like one of those wicked jersey chasers?”

“If you were a jersey chaser, I would’ve left you at the party.”

Her smile widens.

I shake my head and get her out of the car, keeping an arm around her waist to make sure she doesn’t eat shit on the way inside.

Upstairs.

I nudge her toward the bathroom and quickly shed my shirt and jeans, changing back into the sweats I wore before Rhys’s text. Now, I’m infinitely glad I heeded his advice and showed up.

Where were her friends? They weren’t anywhere near her, keeping an eye on her, that’s for sure. Or they saw me and backed off… and let me just carry her out of the party?

I press my lips together, unsure which thought is worse.

Briar enters the room and throws something at me.

I barely get my hands up in time to catch her shirt, and my breath catches. “Briar.”

Her jeans follow a second later, and I let out a growl.

“I want you,” she says, a repeat of earlier. She reaches back and slowly undoes the clasps of her bra. “There’s so much tension between us, Thorne. So let’s just fuck and get it out of our systems.”

“I did not anticipate this,” I mutter, more to myself than her.

She drops her bra, and I’m greeted with the sight of arguably the best tits on the planet. Her nipples pebble in the cool air, her areolas are light pink, and I itch to take her breasts in my hands.

Not while she’s like this.

I know what regret feels like—and I would die if we woke up the next morning and she was ashamed of what we did.

I snag a shirt out of my dresser and motion her closer.

She smiles at me, batting her eyelashes, and reaches for the waistband of my sweatpants.

I ignore her until I can get the shirt over her head.

“Hey—”

“I mean it.” I guide her arms through the sleeves and catch her wrists from any more groping. I walk her backward to the bed and give her a light shove onto it. “Sleep this off.”

Her body bounces, and she stares up at me. “Alone?”

“I…”

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the couch.” I grit my teeth. I don’t love that idea, but…

“I’ll keep my hands to myself.” She shuffles back to the edge of the bed. “Just…”

“What?”

“Stay.”

The sudden vulnerability in her gaze has to be alcohol or drug related, right? But she blinks once, twice, and her eyes flood with tears.

Shit.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, no funny business.” I motion for her to scoot back again. “Stay here.”

When I finish in the bathroom, she’s in the exact same spot. On the far end of the bed, her legs pulled up and her arms wrapped around them.

There are scars all over her leg⁠—

My heart squeezes.

She wears long pants everywhere. Even to the gym, she’s in leggings or yoga pants. I’ve never seen her in shorts, and now, her gaze seems heavy. She’s hurting—not physically, not yet, but emotionally. Because she stripped, and now there’s this extra something between us.

It feels fragile.

Maybe not quite trust, but…

I sit on the bed and draw up the blankets, motioning for her to get under them.

She blinks, then slowly unfolds. Her scarred leg disappears under the sheets.

I climb in, too, then flick off the lamp. In the darkness, I roll onto my side to face her.

The questions burn in my mind. I know how it happened—there was a fire, she was trapped, she jumped out of the second-story window to survive. The rumors about why she was in the building in the first place were never answered.

Some say she was there doing a job, painting one of the walls with a mural for the new owners. Others say she used to bring hookups there, or do drug deals, or…

“Come here.” My voice comes out gruff, and she winces. “Come on, kitten.”

She scoots forward. I meet her in the middle of the bed and wrap my arms around her. Her face is inches from my bare chest, her warm breath coasting across my skin.

Goosebumps rise in its wake.

She brings her arms up, one tucked between us like a safeguard, the other tentatively pressing to my sternum. Then up to my shoulder, down my arm.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”

She sighs, and something tells me that maybe nothing is okay.

But I can do my best to fix it in the morning.