Novel & Cerita A Thorn That Pierces Me

So surrounded by happy beings and she can't seem to forget about her past that darkens her every petal, she's dying inside. My hand reached around the stem, letting the thorns pierce my hand, harshly. I felt the burn of my hand and I sucked it in. My hands swiftly pulled at the stem, wanting to free the petals from what was holding it captive. I pulled and heaved and pushed but the flower wouldn't budge, it felt safe cornered and kept away from the flowers who loved her dearly. I pulled my hands away from the piercing stem, staring at the bloodshed that resigned on my hands.

Brawen has read through knowledge about this species of thorns, so she knows a little: Moore, try to avoid them, don't touch them, hurting them will only make them mad. Hundreds of thorns shot straight into the sky, they wiggled in all directions to catch the enemy. Those strings are illusions that are real, being stabbed by it will hurt like silver bullets, but as long as the simulated space closes, it won't hurt anymore. Contrary to Brawen, Irina unleashed a huge fire on the thorns, who cried out in pain. But just as Brawen thought, they immediately became enraged and attacked Irina.

“Rip it away.” Then came the impact. It was like crashing into a wall of knives. The heavy blackthorn branches caught me instantly, the thick, woody vines whipping across my face, arms, and torso with terrifying force. The sharp, iron-like thorns shredded through the heavy wool of my dress as if it were parchment. A sharp, blinding agony erupted instantly along my jawline. A massive thorn hooked directly into the delicate skin above my collarbone, dragging downward with sickening resistance. I felt the cosmetic paste scrape away first, followed immediately by the cold, dead tissue of Matt’s mark being utterly sliced open. Flesh tore.

She mistook her reliance on him for love. This time, as Luke watched Holly walk away, he did not have the guts to follow her. That was because Luke had to face the truth. The deep love he thought Holly had for him was just a figment of his imagination. Luke could not handle the agony. He lost it. He howled like a wild animal, yanked his hair, and slammed his head against the wall. Bystanders threw him weird looks. Luke was busy being in his own world of pain to care.

He asked, pulling me into him as if he could see easily through the chaos. Thorne groaned and a fire ignited in his palm — hellfire. It cut through the shadows revealing his face and body to me. I winced at the blood coating his flesh but couldn't see any visible wounds, "What the hell is happening there?" "It's bloody murder and I'm not sure when she'll run out of power," Thorne grunted as he pressed his fire into the shield causing it to instantly shatter, "I heal fast, though. She's going to have to do a lot more than shoot spikes made of water and wood at me to do actual damage."

I gasped as the thorn pierced deep into my hand. Blood spurted, dripping down my wrist. I pulled, but it was as though the thorn had grown into my flesh, embedding itself deeper the more I tried. Pain shot through my arm until my vision blurred. Suddenly, I heard a voice. It was too raw, harsh. It shook the mountain itself. “Who dares?” My heart racing as I turned, trying to see who had spoken, but before I could, something struck me hard across the back. My body flew.

I carried them without complaint, but tonight the burden pressed differently, almost suffocating. I brushed my hand against the rough stone wall as I walked, grounding myself. It wasn’t until I strayed closer to the frost-laced hedges that I felt the sting. A thorn, hidden beneath the snow, bit into the back of my hand. I hissed, jerking away, but too late—the sharp sting tore skin, and crimson spilled freely, dripping fat drops onto the snow. “Bloody hell!” I growled, clutching the wound. The sting was actually nothing, just that I got surprised.. but the blood—it fell too freely, splattering against white like roses blooming in winter. “A mere thorn and I am now dripping blood again…”

I dreamed of thorns. They surrounded me on all sides, thick and twisted, reaching out like hands. The thorns were black and sharp, taller than trees. They pressed closer and closer until I couldn't move. Then something grabbed me from behind. A force I couldn't see. It dragged me forward through the thorns. They tore at my skin, my clothes, my hair. I screamed but no sound came out. The thorns cut deeper and deeper. I felt my blood running down my arms, my legs, my face. But the force kept pulling me through.

It sat in my hands and breathed its fast breath and looked at me with the still dark eye. Getting out was harder than getting in. This was the thing about thorns, the curve of them, they let you go one direction and had opinions about the other. My hands were bleeding before I was halfway out. Small cuts, the kind that stung rather than hurt, multiple of them across my palms and the backs of my hands. I got out.

He hummed at the touch and flipped me over. "Was last night not enough for you." He smirked. "I will never get enough of you Mr. Thorn." I saw a flash in his eyes. I had forgotten how much he loved me calling him that. With a swift move his hand was between my legs tracing circles on my most sensitive spot. I threw my head back into the pillow moaning. I couldn't take it any longer, I pushed him off me and tossed him to the side. I straddled him and hovered myself over his erection. I rubbed myself up and down him.