Page 95 of Crown of Thorns
I groan at that. He’s already typing, so there’s no time for a snarky reply.
Gaël: Is this still the same stranger? He’s no longer ill?
Louis: Just answer the damn question
My face heats with annoyance. Of course, my noisy cousin is the first one who found out who it is.
Gaël: Have you guys been on a date yet?
I look up, irritation forgotten. A date. That’s a good one.
Louis: No. Where should I take him?
Gaël: Everywhere! To a football game, shopping, a restaurant.
Wait a minute. Excitement floods my veins, popping my energy levels. Paris. Of course. With everything that’s happened over the past days, I want to figure out the last remaining pieces of the puzzle. I want to know how he lived, what he loved. I want to know everything. And then I want to make this… this… official.
Louis: Thank you. I love you, cousin.
Gaël: WTF? What did I do?
Gaël: You just made my day.
I send him a bunch of kisses. He replies to me with a vomiting emoji. Yeah, yeah, I don’t care. Not now. Not anymore.
Texting Amadou, I prepare everything, my grin turning into the most ridiculous grimace.
I pile the croissants onto my newest obsession: a golden tray with diamond-shaped etchings—I know, ridiculous, but I love shiny things—and place them by the bed. I’m right on time.
Noah stirs, then slowly opens his eyes. He’s always glorious, but there’s something about the way he stretches his long, shaped limbs, the way he looks into the world, unguarded, before he puts on his glasses and recomposes himself. Don’t get me wrong. I love the glasses. They are sexy as fuck. They frame his face in this perfectly crooked way that drives me insane. But they also remind me of the version of Noah who’s always got a stick up his ass, the one wrapped in control and pretence, not the grumpy soft mess who kisses me in his sleep and mutters my name like a prayer.
“Good morning, baby.” Placing the coffee on his bedside table, I climb back into bed and straddle his thighs. “Are you feeling better?”
“Hey.” His voice comes out hoarse. He clears his throat and blinks a few times, then takes me in, his eyes dragging over mybare thighs and cocky grin, sitting too close for comfort and blushing like he just realized I’m real and on top of him. God, I love watching him squirm. “W-what time is it?”
“It’s Saturday, so time doesn’t exist.” Cocking my head, I take him in. His eyes search around, nodding when he hears my words. Understanding, not feeling. He’s once more haunted by whatever’s fucking with his mind.
His gaze drifts toward the window, toward the trees beyond it. The softness drains from his face, replaced by something colder. He swallows hard.
“The shed... It burned to the ground.”
The words hit like a slap. My pulse stutters. I hadn’t expected him to know, hadn’t prepared for this moment. Dread coils low in my gut, hot and sour. Does he know what it means? Does he know who did it?
“I…we need to talk.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “I think I’m in trouble. With them. With the Brotherhood.”
“Trouble?” I frown. “Why? What do you mean?”
“Last night…” He licks his lips. “The gathering.”
Awareness slithers over my skin, cold and sharp. “Was that you?”
“Yes.”
My brain jolts. The outsider. The strange mask. The moment the shed went up in flames. Fuck. That was him. And that threat… I heard it. I just didn’t realize Z was aiming it at Noah.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I frown, the sting of being left out mixing with something heavier. “I thought you were ill. I thought something had happened to you.”
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know what I was walking into. I thought I was alone.”
