The Thorn That Pierce Me Novels & Stories

I let out a cry as the pain intensified. I called it. I knew that thorn was poisonous. The eerie noise from before sounded again but this time, it was more intense. I tried to stand but I fell back to the ground. A cold breeze blew past me and I shivered. I began to hear a loud thump. It sounded like the footsteps of a giant. Oh shit! This is bad. Very bad.

Dante's peaceful sleep was disrupted by a itch on his forehead. It felt as if a fly was walking on his forehead. He opened his eyes, pissed. He scratched his head but didn't find any fly. It was just his hair. A sharp pain hit his head as he sat up. His head throbbed so painfully that he groaned, supporting his head with his palm. He looked around, finally noticing the unfamiliar surrounding. "What the hell?"

But it has died out now, so quit acting like that. He shrugged "Okay, I am sorry if I have annoyed you. I was just angry at myself for causing you this pain. I don't know why, but I could feel anger rising within me these few days. It hurts, it's like a burning larva, which turns everything in me into stone. But that is not what I want. I don't want my heart to be as hard as stone. I want my heart to be filled with love and passion, just like yours." he said meekly.

His crimson eyes glowed with a sick, triumphant light, entirely unbothered by the silver sword I had just driven completely through his heart. ​He squeezed. My airway crushed shut instantly. My vision dotted with black stars, the edges of the room blurring, but I absolutely refused to let go of the hilt of my sword. I twisted it harder, digging the silver deeper into his corrupted flesh, determined to sever his spine. ​CRACK. ​A blur of pristine white steel shot past my peripheral vision. General Vesh’s heavy, armored boot slammed into the side of Thorne's knee. The joint shattered backward with a sickening, wet snap.

"I want you to hear this Rin because it is important that you understand what happens to people who try to interfere with our work." The sound that came through the phone next was wet and terrible and it took me a second to realize it was a knife going into flesh. Thorne made a gurgling sound and then went silent and I heard his body hit the floor. Thorne. Pain exploded through my stomach and I doubled over and grabbed the chair to keep from falling and when I looked down I expected to see blood but there was nothing. Just my shirt and my skin and no visible injury but the pain was real and spreading and I could not breathe.

The spear is still lodged in his side, the wood slick with red. ‎ ‎For a heartbeat, I can’t move. Everything inside me freezes. Then something in me snaps. ‎ ‎“Not you,” I whisper, voice shaking. “You don’t get to die here.” Thorne can't die. I'm prepared to die, but Thorne has to live. I can't live in a world without him. ‎

There was just a thorn and velvet petals. A red rose. I brought out the flower. My finger brushed through the stem. A thorn mistakenly pricked my skin. "Ouch..." I said almost aloud. My finger became hot from where blood beaded The room went quiet, only the sound of the clock ticking and my breathing. I swallowed nothing, no tears. I don't even know what I even want. The moment my skin hit the thorn,my body was clearly his. I looked at the bead of blood on my finger.

"It’s a catalyst. To a human, it’s a herb. To a wolf, it acts like a signal fire on a pitch-black night. It amplifies your natural scent, makes it intoxicating. This rogue found you first because he was desperate, but he won't be the last. The moment I step out of this doorway, another one will come through that window to tear you apart." "I have a deadbolt on the back door," Noah said stubbornly, though the words sounded hollow even to him as he glanced at the front door, which was currently hanging off its top hinge. "And I have a permit from the town council to operate this shop. If there are dangerous wild animals in the area, the rangers…."

This matter had been weighing on Sophie's heart for so long, like a thorn piercing deep into her soul. Perhaps only by pulling out the thorn could she heal and stop the pain.

she asked, her voice barely a whisper. His hand finally rose, but not to touch her skin. He traced the air just beside her cheek, and she felt the ghost of a sensation, a whisper of coolness and static. “Then you will learn that a thorn’s purpose is not only to wound,” he murmured, his breath ghosting past her ear. “It is to anchor. To make you feel so deeply that you can never pull away.”