Thorne Princess(75)

Deciding a small nap wouldn’t hurt, I closed my eyes.

The whine of the door opening announced Ransom’s return. I didn’t lift my head to greet him.

A glass of something—liquor, by the sharp scent of it—was set by my elbow. He hovered behind me, breathing down my neck.

“You can step back now. As much as I enjoy the creeper vibes, I’m okay,” I mumbled into my arm.

A palm pressed against my shoulder. Warm and pudgy. My head immediately shot up. This wasn’t Ransom’s touch. Everything about Ransom was sinewy and rough.

Our eyes met in the mirror as he stood behind me.

Craig.

The man I detested more than anyone else in the entire world.

A smile stretched across his face. With a pronounced widow’s peak, pale skin, golden hair, and expensive veneers, Craig screamed old money.

“Hello, Hallie. So good to see you.” His fingers curled around my shoulder blade.

Thrown into fight-or-flight mode, I grabbed the tumbler of liquor he put next to me and turned around, tossing the content at his eyes. I missed, splashing his tux.

“You little bitch…” His hands went straight for my throat.

I flew up from the chair, making a beeline to the door. But Craig had an advantage over me—he was physically stronger, and not half as disoriented and scared. He grabbed me by the hair. My scalp burned. He shoved me against the four poster bed, trapping me with his big frame. He hiked up my dress from behind, clumsy fingers already patting their way between my legs.

I opened my mouth, letting out a desperate scream.

“I see you need a little reminder on how our get-togethers go down.” Craig fisted my hair harder, burying my face into the rich wool linen, suffocating and shutting me up at the same time. Locks of coppery hair fell from my scalp, scattering on the mattress.

“Come on, now, Hal-Pal. It’s been years, and you know I never overstep. I’ll just cop a little feel. Keep you in top-notch.”

His fingers patted along my inner thighs. I clutched my legs shut, bucking and escaping his touch. I couldn’t breathe. The safest solution was to let Craig do his thing and get it over with. But I didn’t want to be safe. I wanted to inflict pain on him. I wanted revenge. I wanted his blood.

Not today, Satan. Not today.

Craig never went all the way when he assaulted me. He never penetrated me in any way. Never kissed me, even. But he always touched where he was not supposed to. Even when I pleaded—begged him—not to. Especially when I begged him not to.

He liked tugging one off while assaulting me.

Getting off on my pain.

To him, I was the simpleminded Thorne child, the forgotten black sheep. His to play with.

His hands found the spot he was looking for, and he cupped my sex through my panties from behind, squeezing hard, letting out a satisfied groan.

“Here we are. Now let me just…do this…right quick…last time as an unmarried man…”

I heard his zipper roll down, and I screamed hard into the duvet. The pressure inside my head was so intense, I thought it’d explode. I tried to give him a roundhouse kick, but he moved away quickly. He stepped back between my legs from behind. He held my head tightly, pushing my face down onto the mattress so no one could hear me.

“Now where were we?” He chuckled.

Before I knew what was happening, Craig flew off of me. I righted myself, pushing my dress down. I caught a glimpse of the red marks his fingers left on my thighs. Ransom fisted Craig’s dress shirt, slamming him against the walled mirror. The mirror broke and collapsed at their feet, the alarming noise drowned by the soft jazz music seeping from under the closed door.

“Fatal mistake.” Ransom smashed Craig’s head against the broken mirror. “The worst one you’ve made in your miserable life.”

Eyes dead, jaw flexed, Ransom thrashed my sister’s fiancé against the broken glass again and again.

“Wait! Wait! I can explain!” Craig cried out, trying to wriggle away from my bodyguard’s grasp. He stood no chance, and he knew it.

“You can try while I smash your fucking head in, but you won’t succeed.” Ransom’s voice was as blank as his eyes. Blood stained the shards of broken glass behind Craig’s head. The glass was flat, so it didn’t pierce through the skin, but my heart was still in my throat.

“Look, she’s not…she is not like us, man! Her mind is…she is simple, all right?”

In response, Ransom flung Craig across the room, over the bed. Head down, ass up, he was now in the same position I’d been in moments earlier.

Seeing him like this, at a point of such disadvantage, made me want to weep with relief.

“Let me demonstrate what it felt like for her.” Ransom pushed Craig’s face deep into the mattress while ripping Craig’s tuxedo pants down. His boxers tangled across his ankles. From my spot in the corner of the room, I stared at his soupy skin, the way his knees bumped together in fear. He retched, collapsing forward. Then he vomited all over the bed.

“What were you going to do to her?” Ransom demanded, his hand still fisting Craig’s hair. A better woman would have stopped Ransom. But I thrived on the scene, buzzing with adrenaline.

I hated Craig and couldn’t help but feel triumph and relief. He was finally getting what he deserved, after all these years. All those tears.