Page 103 of Crown of Thorns
"Think about it. First, I need to wait for the final results. I hope I've graduated."
"I hope so too. You told me your exams went fine?"
"Wanna get rid of me, Professor?"
"Absolutely."
He laughs. "As if that's ever going to happen."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
Grabbing a large, fluffy towel, I dry Louis off. Every inch of his taut, smooth skin is perfect. The inky swirls. Those well-defined muscles. Even the haunting crow on his back, wings spread over his shoulder blades. Every inch of him is alluring.
Louis is a menace. Too handsome for his own good, and too good for someone like me. That's what scares me most. He's confident in the role he's been given in life: a player, a party animal, a jock. But Louis is so much more than that. He has a big heart, is genuine, and loves to make others laugh. He is loyal. He might have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but unlike most of the college kids from Saint-Laurent, his twin included, he cares about more than just comfort.
Louis has an open mind. He's willing to try new things, test the invisible barriers of his golden cage. There's something so fragile about that. It's beautiful in itself.
Today I took him to the shelter where I've slept many nights. While I was catching up with some of the assistants who still work there, Louis found his way back to the kitchen. When I came to pick him up afterwards, I heard one of the girls announce that Louis would be donating a generous check to the facility. It made my heart flutter, my chest swelling when I caught his smile.
Louis wants to prove he's more. He wants to please me. Wants me to see he's more, not realizing he already is everything to me. He's got me on my knees, worshipping the ground he walks on. Louis makes me want things I've always wanted. Makes me want to see things I've always longed to remember.
Each stop pulls a thread loose from the past, replacing it with something gentler. Something that smells like possibility. But none of this erases what happened back at the estate. The ashes. The threat. Z's eyes still haunt me. Too calm, too certain. I keep waiting for the next move, even here, in the safety of Louis's arms. Especially here.
After the shelter, Louis and I went shopping. The small lingerie shop was reserved just for us, the shop owner was excited to host us with, of course, champagne, and showed us the newest lace collection.
Louis made me choose some favourite pieces and tried them on for me, looking phenomenal. The soft material hugged his toned legs, round ass, and tapered waist. He made my mouth water, I had to have him. I swear he drags the worst out of me.
Let's just say the mirror won't forget us, and neither will the owner, judging by that wink.
Louis bought all the pieces.
After that, I took him to my favourite sandwich bar. Cheap stuff, great quality. A hidden gem. We ordered a massive BLT and a Coke and took our lunch to another park I used to hangout in. He asked me if I'd left any carvings on any of the benches there, and I said no.
So, he did it. Asked me for my knife and cut our names into forever. I even added a heart. He slipped the knife into his coat pocket after. Something about it felt worth keeping.
He's right, though. He's making me change my memory. Or better, he's making me remember things I'd forgotten, how I loved the buzz of the city as a teenager. The smell of fresh bread, blooming flowers, and brewed coffee. How I once wondered how so many people could all live together in relative peace. How I once marveled at the architecture. How, once, I felt like I belonged.
I'd forgotten the silent, bright nights in the park, how they glowed with a strange kind of hope, even when fear sat beside me like a second skin. And instead, I only remembered the restless ones where I had to seek shelter for my safety. I'd forgotten all those wonderful people I had met and had only remembered the awful ones.
Still, despite all this, Paris will always be tainted in a similar yet different way than my hometown, because of my sexuality. For all its glitter and supposed freedom, the city never shielded me from the quiet cruelties, just dressed them up in prettier lies. No city is untouched. Not by memory, not by fear. The Brotherhood's silence is never just silence. It's pressure, poised just behind the veil. I know better than to trust quiet too long. Not even Louis Deveraux, in all his glory and pride, can remove the shame, the hurt, and regret that have had years to boil and stick against my every being like the filthiest of glues.
Dad's words will forever live on.
I can't tell him. I can't do that to him. Louis is out and proud, irrepressible in his sexuality, radiant in his defiance. He's unmistakably male but wears his delicacy like silk. Graceful, unapologetic, magnetic. He surrounds himself with beauty,seeks softness without shame, and glows under praise. It's not just who he is, it's what he dares the world to see. And I…I don't know how to protect that without becoming the reason it dims.
On our way back to Monterrey Castle, Louis snuggles up against me. Not only has he bought his lace, but he has also bought himself a leather jacket, a chiffon scarf, a hat, and new football shoes. He bought me a coat, two pairs of shoes, and two suits. All worth a little under fifty thousand euros.
It's insane. Obnoxious. I should tell him what I think of that. Only...I'm no longer sure what to think. I know what I thought, what I've thought for many years. The proof of these thoughts is safely locked up with my notary, my opinion gracefully fed by the gatherings of the secret brotherhood I've witnessed.
But Louis stands out.
He's a wild rose in a field of tulips, blooming so magnificently that everyone wants to pluck him and keep him by their sides. Being infatuated with him is a losing battle, a choice that was never mine to begin with. He pursued me. The strangest of experiences and the most incredible honour. One I'll always be grateful for.
So, I hold him a little tighter and allow my chest to pang at the feel of his weight against mine. Of his cheek against my collarbone. Of his satisfied sigh against my throat. I feel it too, this outright surrender. This may have started as a game, but it has turned into an infatuation. Louis is everywhere. His words, his scent, his touch.
Passion.
Protection.
