Shadows Entwined (Shadows Descent #3)

13. Violet

13

VIOLET

I move through the growing snowbanks to the tower where the art room is situated. It’s been so long since I had this creative outlet that I feel it clawing at me inside. I need to do something, anything, to let off some steam. Trudging up the stairs, two at a time, I push the door open to find it deserted.

Good . I could use the space.

Moving around the circular room, I set up with a canvas and some paints and brushes.

I squeeze globs of paint onto a palette. My hands shake as I pick up a brush, but I force myself to take a deep breath. I need to focus and channel all this anger and confusion into something productive.

The first strokes are hesitant, but soon, I’m lost in the rhythm of the painting. The canvas becomes a battlefield of colour, dark swirls of black and purple clashing with angry streaks of red and orange. I pour everything into it—my frustration with the guys, my grief over Morgan despite these claims against her, my fear of what’s to come—but most of all the knowledge that I’ve been played since before I was born and shunted fifteen hundred fucking years into the future. My mind wanders as I think about what it would’ve been like to grow up then. How different it would have been from the childhood I had. I think about Amara, about how quickly things can change. One moment, she was trying to guide me; the next, she was the bad guy and killed because of all the bad choices she made. Gone in a few seconds. I know Blackthorn was right to do what he did. This place and everyone in it is his responsibility. I know in my head that the guys stopping me was the right thing to do, but the fact that they ganged up on me and took my choice away is what burns, and none of them seems to remember this is a big trigger of mine. My consent is everything to me, even now when I appear to be nothing but a pawn in everyone else’s game. Maybe that’s what makes it worse.

I don’t have any answers, only more questions, but the act of painting helps soothe the chaos in my mind. The brush becomes an extension of myself, and each stroke releases a pent-up emotion.

The canvas is a swirl of colour and shadow, with a central figure emerging from the chaos. I suppose it’s me, but who knows?

I jump when a voice murmurs, “It’s pretty.”

“Go away,” I growl at Thorne. “You weren’t supposed to find me here.”

“Where else would I look?”

I glower at him. “See that right there...” I jab the paintbrush at him. “...is why you need to leave.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You think you know me, but what you, Flint, and Caine did was?—”

“We took away your consent,” he says hurriedly, interrupting me. “I know. We were wrong to do that. We should have given you the choice.”

“You should’ve,” I say grudgingly. “And you should’ve trusted me to do what’s right. I’m not an idiot.”

Thorne’s expression softens, and he takes a tentative step closer. “You’re right. We should have trusted you. We were so focused on protecting you that we forgot to respect your autonomy. I’m sorry, Violet. Truly.”

I turn back to my painting, not quite ready to forgive him yet. “It’s not just about trust. It’s about control. Everyone seems to think they know what’s best for me, what I should do, and who I should be. But I’m the one who has to live with the consequences of these choices.”

“I understand,” Thorne says quietly. “We’ve all been so caught up in this mess, in trying to keep you safe, that we’ve forgotten you’re your own person. Not just some vessel or pawn.”

His words strike a chord, and I feel some of my anger begin to dissipate. I turn to face him. “I know you all care about me. But I need to make my own decisions, even if they’re mistakes sometimes. That’s how I learn and grow.”

Thorne nods, his eyes filled with remorse. “You’re right. We won’t make that mistake again. From now on, we’ll support you and advise you, but the choices will be yours to make.”

I study him for a moment, gauging his sincerity. Finally, I nod. “Okay. I appreciate that.”

He glances at my painting, a small smile tugging at his lips as he takes the brush from me and paints the tip of my nose dark orange.

“Hey!” I say with a laugh and try to snatch it off him.

He yanks it back, so I daub my fingertips with a multitude of colours and smear them down his face. “You look like a rainbow!”

He chuckles and, quick as lightning, paints my cheeks with the brush. Giggling and feeling more relaxed than I have in days, I move closer to him, ready to forgive and forget. I tilt my face up, and he crashes his lips to mine. He drops the brush as he sweeps me off my feet and pushes me against the desk in the corner.

I melt into Thorne’s embrace, the kiss deepening as his hands roam my body. The anger and tension from earlier dissolve, replaced by a burning need. I wrap my leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

Thorne breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice husky.

“Yes,” I breathe, tugging at his shirt. “I need this. I need you.”

He clears the desk behind me in one swift motion, sending art supplies clattering to the floor. He lays me down, his body covering mine as he captures my lips again.

Our clothes come off in a frenzied rush of his magick, leaving me naked and shivering from his heated touch. His touch ignites a fire in me, making me arch against him, desperate for more.

To my approval, he doesn’t waste time with foreplay. He shoves his cock inside me with a swift thrust. I gasp, my nails digging into his back as he buries himself deep.

“Violet,” Thorne groans, setting an urgent pace that I’m eager to keep up with.

“Fuck, Thorne!”

I wrap my legs tight around him, urging him deeper. The desk creaks beneath us as he pounds into me, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through my body.

“God, you feel amazing,” Thorne growls, his lips trailing hot kisses down my neck.

I tilt my head back, giving him better access as I roll my hips to meet his thrusts. The tension that’s been building inside me for days finally has an outlet, and I lose myself in the sensations.

“Harder,” I gasp, clinging to him. “Please, Thorne.”

He obliges, slamming into me with enough force to rock the desk away from its original spot.

“Bite me,” he whispers in my ear. “I want to feel your fangs slice into me as you come all over my cock.”

My fangs descend at his words, and I don’t hesitate. I sink them into his neck, the taste of his blood exploding on my tongue. The combination of his thrusts, his blood, and the intense connection between us sends me over the edge. I cry out against his skin as my orgasm washes over me in powerful waves.

Thorne groans, his rhythm faltering as my pussy clenches around him. With a final, deep thrust, he follows me into ecstasy, his body shuddering against mine as he comes hard.

We stay like that for a long moment, tangled together on the desk, our breathing heavy. Slowly, I retract my fangs with a groan, wishing I could take more. He tastes like shadows and ice. Thorne lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. There’s a tenderness there that makes my heart skip.

“I love you,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

The words catch me off guard, but I find myself smiling. “I love you too,” I whisper back.

Thorne kisses me softly before pulling away. He helps me sit up, his hands lingering on my waist. “We should probably get cleaned up and dressed before someone comes looking for us,” he says with a wry smile.

I nod, suddenly aware of our surroundings. The art room is a mess, with paint splattered on the floor and our discarded clothes. My canvas, forgotten in the corner, is a swirl of chaotic colours that somehow feels more meaningful now.

“Yeah, we should,” I agree, but I don’t move just yet. Instead, I lean into Thorne, resting my head on his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me close.

For a moment, we just breathe together, savouring this pocket of peace amidst the storm that’s been raging around us. But reality intrudes soon enough, as it always does.

“The others will be worried,” Thorne murmurs into my hair.

I sigh, reluctantly pulling away. “I know, and we still have so much to figure out before the Convergence.”

Thorne nods, his expression growing serious. “We will. We’ve got this.”

Smiling up at him, I kiss him deeply, cupping his face and pressing my body against his. There’s still anger and confusion about everything that’s happened, but there’s also strength. Whatever trials lie ahead, I know I’m not alone.