Page 117 of Crown of Thorns
Jean-Luc walks away, taking Louis with him. Leaving me in the dungeon, caught in the scent of blood and anger, the scent of love and loss.
Frustration and sorrow hit me like a fucking trainwreck. I picture Louis behind glass—untouchable, unreachable—his golden lashes veiling eyes that no longer look for me.
I would claw through stone if it meant seeing him again. If it meant hearing him breathe my name just one more time.
The sadness is so overwhelming, I know I’ll have to do something soon, even if it means haunting the gates of his family’s estate like a ghost. Because not seeing Louis is not an option.
33
LOUIS
Everything hurts.
I flinch before I remember I’m not in the dungeons anymore. No masked hands. No laughter. Just pain. Real, sharp, and mine.
My mind is a fog, only lifting when I shift and roll onto my side, the movement slicing through the haze. Pain crackles across my ribs as I collide with another body, sharp and real enough to anchor me in the now.
A pair of green eyes stare at me, black eyeliner smeared across his cheeks. “You’re awake!” he chirps, way too loud for someone whose face looks like a raccoon in a thunderstorm. It’s not his voice. Not Noah’s. My throat clamps shut.
Noah.
The projector. The memories slam back, blurred and jagged, like glass underwater.
“Who—get off,” I croak, heart spiking. It takes a second to realize it’s Gaël. My breath comes ragged.
Gaël tucks a strand behind my ear, beaming like a mischievous cat. “There you are again. You made a sound this time. Progress!”
“Fuck off.”
“Aww…you are back to being your sweet self. Don’t fall asleep. You slept for like,forever. Everyone’s been really worried. Hang on. Uncle!” Like a monkey, he slings himself out of my bed, then presses a kiss on my forehead. I shooed him away.
The door opens and in walks Dad, Arthur, and Régis hot on his tail.
“Son.” Dad smiles and sits down on the bed. His hand reaches out and strokes away more hair that sat plastered against my forehead. “How are you feeling?”
I blink, drinking him in. “I’m not sure. You brought me home.”
“Always, Louis.” His hand finds mine, and he squeezes gently. He looks every bit the upper-class, charming man, handsome, elegant, and self-assured. He’s the father who raised us alone when Mom died. It’s not the first thing I’d recall waking from hell, but the memory grounds me now. Even with everything broken, he’s still here.
“Louis. You’re awake, darling.” Natalie stands in the doorway. Our stepmom, firm, radiant, and maddeningly kind. She’s the best thing that could’ve happened to Dad, and to us. Her son Régis too, though I still don’t know how the hell he managed to make my asshole twin this happy. A little too happy, if you ask me. Arthur’s been soft lately. I see it now in the crease of worry on his face as he stares down at me.
“How long was I asleep for?” I yawn.
“Two days.”
“We dragged your ass back from Monterrey after you were drugged in the dungeons,” Arthur says bluntly, not bothering to soften it. “Do you remember being down there?”
“Wait, let him wake up first. You must be hungry.”
I am. But… “Where’s Noah?” I spot Gaël by the door, a satisfied smirk on his face. “And why the hell were you in my bed?”
“You were confused. Couldn’t sleep.”
“That…” I frown. “I don’t remember that. Where is he?”
“First, some food. Then we’ll talk. I’m glad you’re okay, mon fils.” Dad leans in and brushes his lips to my temple. He smells of pine and wood.
One of the helpers comes in with food, toast with butter and orange juice.
