The Cruelty of Thorns

 

CHAPTER 1

JULIANUS

Windows to the soul

I DREAMED OF blood and death.

Wasn’t the first time; definitely wouldn’t be the last. That I could dream at all was a constant wonder to me.

The hunger was there when I awoke, sharp and insistent, but something felt different tonight. Like Fate was toying with the carefully woven threads of a routine I had spent centuries establishing.

Perhaps I had grown too comfortable.

Perhaps it was time to move on.

I resented that thought. I had come to like it here. A city small enough to remind me of my youth; large enough to absorb my unnatural habits. Such places were becoming increasingly difficult to find in the world, and I didn’t relish the thought of searching for another.

Perhaps it was merely hunger, after all.

I dressed in my favorite charcoal gray suit and made my way out into the crisp autumn evening. A new distraction was what I needed, something to tempt my cock and slake this cursed thirst. With school back in session at the college, the streets were like an all-you-can-eat buffet. I wound my way leisurely through the herd, sampling sights and scents for one worthy of my attention.

Young succulent flesh.

Eager open minds.

Blinded by their own invincibility.

I didn’t know what drew me to the bar, or why I looked in the window when I got there, but the jolt I received when I met those eyes shook me to my core.

It couldn’t be. Not now. After all these years…

CHAPTER 2

MYRA

A chance encounter

I HATED GOING out, but I knew if I was going to fit in at Whitfield College I’d have to make some sacrifices. The bar wasn’t too crowded for a Friday night, but with my anxiety, anything more than a handful of people was too much. The only thing I had going for me was the group I was with. The girls were all prettier than me, thus deflecting any attention from the male clientele.

Not that I was ugly; I just wasn’t what you would consider beautiful. Average height, straight brown hair that I wore like a security blanket close to my face, hazel eyes, and a bit too skinny in all the places most women had curves. I had come to terms with my lot in life long ago; it was just as well, as I wasn’t interested in the things most girls my age were–clothes, shoes, the latest media heart throb, or especially real life men. I’d had one relationship in my nineteen years and it had ended tragically enough to cause me to swear off a repeat. Now I got my romance from the books I read and the stories I wrote.

“What are you drinking?” my roommate, Kristin shouted above the music.

“Just a Coke.”

“Come on, Myra, it’s Friday night. At least have a beer.”

I made a face. “I hate beer.”

“Then a glass of wine. Look, I’m ordering us both one.” She motioned to the server who was headed for their table.

I sighed; this was exactly why I hated going out. “Aren’t we too young to drink?”

“Drinking age is eighteen here for beer and wine,” Kristin informed me. “Why do you think there are so many bars near the campus?”

I hadn’t really paid attention. I knew there were two bookstores and a small independent coffee shop with ample plugins for laptops within walking distance of the school. I would much rather have gone there tonight. I had a paper due on the theme of realism vs romanticism in nineteenth century literature and would like to have gotten a start on writing it before Kristin dragged me out to “blow off some steam” with a few friends.

I liked Kristin well enough as a roommate. She wasn’t too loud and seemed to be serious about her coursework during the week, but she was a year ahead of me and therefore had a lot of friends at the school, both male and female, something I doubted I’d have regardless of how long I was there. Just thinking about that brought up my mother’s voice in my head. Myra, you need to get out and meet people.

The drinks arrived and Kristin pushed the glass of wine in front of me with an arched brow that dared me not to drink it. I took a sip, hid my distaste, and shifted my attention to the front windows where a steady stream of people, most of them young and probably students, drifted by. The girls at the table were chattering on about some show they were watching on Netflix, their conversation blending into the white noise of the room.

And that’s when I saw him.

He was standing on the sidewalk outside; tall and pale, with cheekbones like cut glass and a tail of long brown hair that shimmered in the soft glow of the old-fashioned streetlights that dotted the area. An air of aloofness set him apart from the tide; that and the fact that unlike the casually-dressed students, he wore a well-cut dark suit that showed off a lean physique.

When he turned and faced the window, I felt my breath hitch. He had the most arresting eyes I had ever seen, and they were staring straight at me. How he could see into the dimly-lit bar I couldn’t say, but I was sure he had caught me watching him. As if to confirm this, his full lips curled up in a slow smirk. I felt my skin flush and tore my eyes away, feigning interest in the conversation at the table. Still, I couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of my eye as he entered the bar and made his way toward the back with a sideways glance in my direction.

I picked up my glass and took a healthy swallow, nearly gagging on the alcohol as I watched him approach the far end of the bar and lean over to say something to the bartender. He was even more impressive from this vantage point, and as much as I might have feigned no interest in men, I found myself thinking he was the most beautiful one I had ever seen.

Two of the girls from our table were just coming out of the restroom and passed by where he was standing. The tall one, Lisa, was a beauty with long black hair, almond-shaped green eyes, and a body that most men would kill for. The man turned as she walked by and watched her with an almost hungry interest in his gaze, and something about that look stirred an uneasy jealousy in me. Fool, I scolded myself. As if someone like him would be interested in you.

The man stood with his back to the bar for several minutes, looking over the room without ordering a drink, then walked slowly back outside, where he disappeared into the night. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about that or not, and once again I was cross with myself for even entertaining those kinds of thoughts.

“Just another pretty face,” I murmured under my breath.

Kristin looked over at her. “Did you say something?”

“No. Talking to myself.”

My roommate’s eyes dropped to my almost-full glass of wine with a frown. “Are you going to drink that?”

“Probably not.” She reached over and grabbed the glass, pouring the remaining wine into her own. “By all means, help yourself.”

Kristin ignored the barb and looked around the table. “Everyone else ready for another round?” When she got an enthusiastic yes, she motioned to the server. I noticed with satisfaction that this time she ordered a Coke for me.

When the drinks arrived, I tried to join in the conversation, but my mind kept going back to the mysterious man in the suit. I had never had that kind of reaction to a man before, and it bothered me. While I may have considered myself a romantic at heart, that was mostly in literature. I had never carried those flights of fancy into real life, but I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering back to him. I could still see his face and feel the effect of those eyes when they met mine. Who was he, and why had he come into the bar tonight only to leave a few minutes later? I had no answers, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t stop him from populating my thoughts.

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TRIGGER WARNINGS: This book contains content recommended for those 18+, to include:

BDSM, MF and MM sex, polyamorous sex, sexual assault, nonconsensual sex, murder, torture, blood play, and suicide (off-page)