Page 59 of Crown of Thorns
Because deep down, I don’t just want the fight. I want the attention. I want to matter enough for him to come back. I want his eyes on me, even if it means they’re filled with fury.
Holy shit, this iron defiance? Sexy. As. Fuck. I want more of it. Him mouthing off to me, telling me exactly what he thinks of me and everything I stand for. Yes, please.
I meant to stay the night. Of course I did. I always do. But I thought he’d kick me out. He didn’t. He let me sleep in his bed. In his space. And then he disappeared.
When I’ve washed myself in his citrus and vanilla scented shower gel twice, I accept defeat. He’s not coming. Not this morning. Hiding again? Maybe. It’s not like he can go anywhere. I’m still in his room, though I prefer to refer to it as our room. I decorated it, after all.
Wrapping a towel around my hips, I glare at my phone. It won’t stop buzzing. Messages. One, two, three. I’d rather display myself on Noah’s bed for another round of letting him wrestle me where he wants to, but even I can refrain from stupidity.
Deveraux family chat:
Natalie: Hi boys, how are you? We’re on our way to Monterrey. We should be there soon.
Dad: You all saw the report? We’ve got three new security staff stationed near the back terrace.
Arthur: And you’re only telling us now?
Dad: It was a late decision.
Régis: They are nice
Arthur: Define ‘nice’. Did you talk to them?
Régis: And what if I did?
Arthur: I’d break their faces
Dad: Arthur…
For fuck’s sake. What the hell’s going on with my twin? There’s his usual prickliness, and then there’s this, the possessive monster. Ever since he got completely pissed during Christmas break, he’s been on edge. That’s been months now. Never thought I’d have to be the responsible one.
Louis: They seem decent enough. I’m glad you’re coming this weekend. Feels like something’s building and I’d rather not be the last to know.
I expect him to be gone, he always is. That’s his rhythm. Let me stay, then vanish before the sun catches him being soft. So when I walk out, towel clinging low, steam curling around me, I nearly trip over the shock of it.
Noah is there.
Sitting on the edge of his bed like a ghost who forgot how to disappear. Still as stone, eyes locked on his phone like it just delivered a death sentence.
“What’s up, baby?”
He looks up slowly, gaze vacant, lips curled in a dreamy, broken smile. He came back. For me? For this? He’d never say it. But he walked in when he didn’t have to. Sat on that bed like he was waiting, for me, or for the courage to say something he couldn’t text.
It’s the kind of contradiction that makes my stomach twist. “Baby?”
“Melo texted me. I…” He glances back at his phone like he’s still trying to process it.
“That you…what?”
“That I inherited land.”
“Land? That’s…good, right? Or isn’t it?” I move until I hit his knees, spreading them before settling at his feet.
“Yes, it is. It’s forest land. Right outside the castle walls. I…” He licks his lips. Our eyes meet. He looks conflicted.
Oh, baby, don’t overcomplicate everything in life.
My brows shoot up. “What? Fuck me, that’s incredible. Did your mom leave it to you?”
