Thorn is outside on the porch, talking to my father. The conversation’s heated, and loud enough that I can hear a lot of what’s being said on this end even though I’m in the kitchen trying to pretend I’m not trying to listen in.

They’re talking about Fowler, which I know is the name of the man who’s looking for me to get to Oz. It sounds like they’re arguing about a strategy to lure him out in the open and take him out. I’ve never actually heard anyone talk back to my father before. But Thorn isn’t backing down. Eventually, they seem to come to some sort of agreement, and Thorn hangs up.

He comes back inside, looking preoccupied. It’s a look I’ve seen on his face a lot in recent days. I want to ask him about the conversation, but something stops me. I don’t want to upset the fragile state of complicity we’ve been in since last night. I don’t want to do anything to make him angry, or doubt me.

In the end, though, I don’t have to ask him to tell me what’s going on.

“Isabel,” he murmurs, taking my hand and pulling me to him. His eyes bore into mine. “I need to talk to you about something. A way to end this.”

I look up at him, meeting his gaze without flinching. “It sounds serious.”

“It is. Probably dangerous, too.” His brow furrows. “But it might be the only way to eliminate the threat from Fowler once and for all.”

My eyes are still locked on his. I want him to tell me everything. But even more importantly, I want him to know that I’m with him, whatever he decides to do. “Okay,” I nod.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” I repeat. “I trust you. I know you’ll do whatever is right. Whatever’s best. So, okay. I’ll do anything you say, Thorn. Whatever you need for me to do.”

Thorn just stares down at me, saying nothing. His eyes grow dark, then soft, and then something else that makes a little shiver run down my spine.

“You’re quite something, you know that, Isabel?” he murmurs. His mouth comes down on mine. He kisses me deeply, passionately, and I open to him, my arms going around his neck to pull him closer. The kiss makes me dizzy with want, and when he finally breaks away from me, I’m panting.

“I thought you said you needed to talk to me,” I gasp.

“First things first,” he growls, lifting me up into his arms. He tosses me over his shoulder. “Talk later.”

“I can walk, you know,” I complain. “Caveman.”

“You might not be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he tosses back. He reaches up and swats me on the ass, and I yelp and start giggling as he carries me through the threshold into the bedroom.

But my giggles turn to moans when he sets me on my feet and pushes me against the wall. He kisses me again, harder this time, our tongues dancing and searching as he pulls off first my clothing and then his.

“I need to fuck you,” he groans. He pulls me to him, one hand cupping my ass and pressing it against his hardness, the other going to my breast, teasing my already hardening nipple. I suck in a breath and stifle a moan.

“So, fuck me,” I pant. He chuckles low in his throat.

“I’m about to. You’re a fucking drug, Isabel, you know that? You’re all I can think about. Your pussy clenching around my cock.” His words start a throbbing of anticipation between my legs. “I fucking need this. I need you.”

“Oh, God, Thorn…” I moan as his hardness rubs against me in just the right place. “God, I can’t wait to have you inside me.” I reach down and wrap my fingers around his length, my heart leaping as I hear him hiss. I’m soaking wet with desire, but before he does anything, I need to taste him. Locking eyes with him, I drop to my knees, my hand still wrapped around him, and take his head in my mouth. I slowly start to pump his base with my fist as I lick him, coating his cock with my saliva and sucking it like a lollipop.

“Jesus,” he whispers, fisting a hand in my hair. I take him deeper, until he starts to hit the back of my throat, and start pumping him a little harder, a little faster. “Touch yourself,” he commands. With my other hand, I do as I’m told, sliding two fingers between my soaking folds. The sensation makes me shudder, and I moan against his cock. The vibrations make Thorn groan softly. “Fuck, that feels good,” he tells me.

I think he’s going to let me keep going, let me make him come like that, but he pulls away after a couple of minutes. At my whimper of disappointment, he chuckles low in his throat. “Sorry, darlin’, but I seem to remember telling you I was gonna fuck you. A man’s only as good as his word, after all.” I start to take my hand away from my pussy, but he shakes his head sternly. “Ah, no. I didn’t tell you to stop that, did I?”

“But…” I murmur uncertainly. I’ve never done… that… in front of anyone. But I know Thorn wants what he wants. He reaches down and pulls me up until I’m standing in front of him, then turns me so I’m facing the dresser. He bends me over so I’m bracing myself against it, and positions himself behind me. “Keep going, Isabel,” he murmurs against my ear. One hand comes around my waist and places itself on top of mine. He uses two of my fingers and begins to stroke my clit in a circular motion, using my slick juices to tease me. With his other hand, he spreads my legs and then slides his head against my wet opening. He enters me from behind as he continues to use my fingers to stroke me. The angle of his cock presses against the front of my channel, and as he begins to thrust, he rolls his hips to hit the spot he found before that drives me wild.

My pleasure mounts quickly, and I whimper his name over and over as I hold on for dear life and lose myself in the bliss. His rhythm increases, his thrusts getting harder and more insistent, and I feel myself climbing higher and higher until finally I cry out, my climax bursting over me so powerfully it takes my breath away. Soon after, Thorn lets go of my hand and grips both of my hips hard. He pumps deeper and deeper, until with a shout he releases a hot stream of his seed deep inside me. As he shudders, he reaches up and turns my face to his, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.

We breathe raggedly against each other, our bodies rising and falling in rhythm.

“You trust me,” he murmurs against my throat.

“I trust you,” I tell him, the words coming from deep inside me. “More than anyone, Thorn. More than anyone, ever.”

Later, we lie in bed, with me pressed tight against him. Thorn tells me about his plan.

“We can take down Fowler,” he says. “This needs to end. So you can be free. So it can all be over.”

He explains what he wants to do, and what my role will be in all of it. Crazily, even though I should be scared, what I feel most is a strange, almost painful pang of regret. Because once this is all over, Thorn and I will leave this place. And once that happens, I’ll probably never see him again.

A wave of sadness washes over me. But I try my best not to let him see it.

“You know I’ll keep you safe, Isabel. Don’t you?” he murmurs gently, raising my chin toward his with a finger. “You know I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. Because I do know it, as surely as I know anything. Thorn will never let me get hurt. I don’t question that for a second. So even though I am just a little afraid, and a lot sad, I’ll do what I can to help him. I’ll do whatever he says.

And most of all, I’ll be brave. Because that’s what he needs me to be.