Jagged Thorns

Jagged Thorns (Thorn Trilogy Book 1) Copyright © 2023 by January James All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination, or used in a fictitious manner. Edit by Susan Barnes Proofread and cover design by The Word Tank www.januaryjamesauthor.com In memory of Leslie A true Blackpool illumination CONTENTS AUTHOR’S NOTE Prologue: Rupert 1. Vivian 2. Vivian 3. Vivian 4. Vivian 5. Vivian 6. Rupert 7. Vivian 8. Rupert 9. Vivian 10. Rupert 11. Vivian 12. Rupert 13. Vivian 14. Rupert 15. Rupert 16. Vivian 17. Rupert 18. Vivian 19. Rupert 20. Vivian 21. Rupert 22. Rupert 23. Vivian 24. Vivian 25. Rupert 26. Vivian 27. Rupert 28. Vivian 29. Rupert 30. Vivian 31. Rupert 32. Rupert 33. Vivian 34. Rupert 35. Vivian About the Author Also by January James AUTHOR’S NOTE No sex please, we’re British… Just kidding! Well, about the first bit, not the bit about being British. While these pages contain a fair amount of steam, I should probably point out before you dive in, that I’m a British author, writing about British people, in British settings. I occasionally use universal terms for things like ‘elevators’ and ‘panties’, but sometimes regional variations do sneak through. ‘Gob-smacked’ for instance, is a Britishism meaning ‘lost for words’, and I use it sometimes because it carries a greater punch (pun totally intended). ‘Sex-hausted’ on the other hand, is not a Britishism; I just made it up. I probably wasn’t the first. Now onto the triggers… This is book 1 of a gothic romance trilogy. There are elements of darkness and some potential triggers including blackmail, references to murder, drug use, chronic pain. And please note, this book ends with a MAJOR CLIFFHANGER. Read at your own risk. You have been warned… On that note, enjoy! Rupert I stood with my feet braced on the sullied gravel and watched the trucks disappear over the horizon, taking the last of the moonlight with them. I sucked in one last stinging drag of nicotine, almost punishing my own throat for watching this continue. I rarely smoked, but the more I saw of those trucks, the more I felt the urge to draw my own demise closer. I blew out a long stream of smoke and watched it rise bleakly into the thick stench before flicking the butt to the floor and grinding it beneath my shoe. What was one more piece of ash when this whole place would one day go up in flames? I sensed someone behind me and the nasal tutting told me exactly who it was. “You just going to stand out here sulking like a salty bitch?” I plastered a fake smile to my mouth and spun around to face my older brother. “Just making sure they’ve gone.” He rolled his eyes hatefully. They were small and sat too close together, almost touching the bridge of his nose, just like Father’s. “The ferry’s waiting. They’ll be gone in less than ten minutes. So, I suggest you wipe away those little girl tears and get your scrawny ass home. Big day tomorrow.” I steadied my breath even though it was racketing to burst out of my lungs in a scream. “What’s so special about tomorrow?” He huffed like he was all out of patience with me, as usual. “The big announcement. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. Oh, wait a minute, you’ve had your head stuck in the sand ever since I suggested it to the partners. Who were in unanimous agreement with my proposal.” “The tours,” I stated. “I had hoped you and Father would have come to your senses. Clearly not.” I raised my arms in a helpless shrug. “How can you not see that giving the general public access to an island that hasn’t allowed anyone in for over a century, and the labs where the drug du jour is produced, isn’t going to satisfy their curiosity, it will only increase it. It won’t end with one tour.” “And why would that be a bad thing?” Ossian asked, a nauseating picture of innocence. “Oh, right.” I laughed bitterly. “That’s what you want? Notoriety? Fame? To be the subject of national envy? I should have known.” I needed no further proof of the narcissist that lingered barely disguised in the inner sanctum of my brother. “No,” he bit out, his frown battening his eyes into slits. “To increase the buzz for when we launch Bas 2.0.” I gritted my teeth. I hated the way he referred to the next generation of the drug we’d been selling to city boys and seedy politicians like it was some sort of technological advancement. It was not. It would be the exact same drug we’d always developed but mixed with other dubious pharmaceuticals to create something we didn’t even understand. It made my skin crawl. Even the chemists we employed looked frighteningly uncomfortable about it. “That won’t happen for months. Maybe years. Maybe ever,” I stated with confidence. I knew Father had been blinded by the success of Basidiomine, but he still had enough of his faculties to know we couldn’t put the product of what was essentially an experiment in Class A narcotics on the market. Bas was largely plant-based, whereas Ossian’s recent concoctions included chemicals that had been banned in some parts of the world. Father wouldn’t allow it, I was sure. Ossian kicked his head back and laughed. A nasal, clawing cackle that rang through my head like a pneumatic drill. “You know, Rupert. That’s the difference between you and me. When I want something done, I don’t waste time fretting over rules and rights and wrongs. I just get it fucking done. If