Novel & Cerita The Thorn That Pierces Me

Because the worst thing about seeing her like that wasn’t the blood. It wasn’t even the bruises. It was the familiarity of it. The memory of another broken thing I hadn’t been able to save. Not that night. Not ever. Amara’s POV The first thing I felt was pain. A dull, throbbing ache in my ribs. A sharp sting across my cheek. And softness beneath me — too soft. Sheets. Pillows. Warmth. I bolted upright, heart hammering against my ribs. Where—? The room was strange. Huge.

I hold him, stroking his hair all the way down. But then I feel something on his back. Something small and hard an sharp. I hug him tighter, searching for the strange are on his back where I touched the thing. At first I was willing to bet that I was just imagining things. But then I see something small and black and pointy poking right out of Roman's skin. A thorn. A thorn that looks similar to the ones from the vine, the very thing that wounded him.

But within that quietude, within the ominous stillness, my resolve stood unshaken, ready to exploit the chink in Thorne's armor the moment it dared show itself. A miscalculation-a graze along my forearm, the sting of it sharp and sudden. I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth before the scent of it filled my nostrils, a visceral reminder of the stakes we danced around. Each cut, every bruise, was more than mere flesh wound; it was a testament to the future we both fought so desperately to protect.

A single drop of his blood had fallen onto my skin where my shirt had ridden up. The drop sank in like it belonged there. My scales ignited (white-hot, blinding). The girl laughed one last time and dissolved into smoke that slithered up through the cracks in the ceiling. The wards slammed back into place. Silence. Thorne rolled off me, breathing hard, staring at his hand like it had betrayed him. I sat up slowly. The place where his blood had touched me now bore a new mark: a tiny black crescent moon cradling a flame.

Thorne shook his head again. “No,” he said firmly. “I am a Knight of Queen Luna. I must be able to fulfill my duty. I refuse the bond.” I felt like I’d been shot in the chest. I crumbled to the ground in pain. The burning and need that was once in my bones was replaced by an ice so cold and a pain so white. I cried out and dug my nails into my chest. I felt hands come to my shoulders. They did nothing to ease the pain I felt.

Thorne pulled out slowly. His pierced cock dragged every inch on the way out. The bars caught on my rim. Sharp sparks shot through me. I gasped. My hole stayed open for a second. Slick leaked out in a slow, thick drip. I felt empty. Aching. Hating how much I noticed the loss. Thorne stepped back. He wiped himself on my torn shirt. Casual. Like I was nothing more than a rag. He looked at Aurelius. “Your turn.”

It was Thorne’s, and Thorne didn’t play by the rules. He didn’t bluff. He didn’t flinch. He destroyed. But he has a weakness. I met his eyes with mine, fighting to wear my fear like war paint. Because if he touched me… if he branded me like I was nothing… I wasn’t sure I’d ever come back from it. He stepped forward and took one of the weapons from his guard. It hissed faintly, fresh from the flames, the twisted metal glowed red, hot enough to melt flesh and bones.

Mikhael held Valerie tightly in his arms, but he forgot all about the injury on his back. He exercised his aching back a little, biting his lower lip tightly so that he could stay conscious. It could be called a backache, but more accurately, he had felt a sharp pain in his spine as if the bones had penetrated his flesh and gotten intertwined. He felt more pain as time passed. To avoid suspicion from Valerie, who was in his arms, Mikhael gritted his teeth and endured. However, the piercing pain in his back was testing his limits. Perhaps because he had caught a cold, his resistance and tolerance were weakened.

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.

I tried to memorize the turns I took, retracing my steps when I found myself at dead ends. But, as I rounded another corner, a jagged hedge loomed before me, the sharp thorns pointing directly at my face like daggers ready to impale me. I froze, my heart pounding as I eyed the thorny spikes mere inches from piercing my eyes, "What? Not again..." For a moment I considered giving up, letting the thorns take me. But some primal instinct for survival kicked in, and with a shout I threw myself to the side, rolling on the damp grass as the thorns tore at my clothes and scraped my skin.