Page 125 of Crown of Thorns
“You broke me.”
“I know.”
“I should hate you.”
“You don’t.”
And he’s right. I don’t. I should, but I don’t.
The air shifts between us—tighter, denser—and finally, I reach for him. My fingers trail over the warmth of his biceps until I feel jagged edges. He sucks in a breath.
“You got a tattoo,” I whisper, my voice catching on the edge of wonder. I reach for him with both hands, reverent, not teasing. My fingertips trace the ridges of the ink through the plastic bandage, my heart thudding when I recognize the shape beneath. He lifts his sleeve and begins peeling it away with care, revealing the mark he’s carved into himself—for me.
A knife with two stars. Etched into his skin. My professor. The one who used to flinch at public touch, who lived buried in books and codes and restraint—Noah. Noah fucking got a tattoo. For me.
My fingers shake as I touch the slightly red skin, tracing the pointy curves with reverence, disbelief curling inside my chest like flame. It’s bold. Permanent. Inked right into the flesh of the man who once wouldn’t even say my name in daylight.
“I got it yesterday. When I decided to come for you.”
“A knife… and two stars?” My lower lip wobbles. My heartbeat thuds in my throat.
“You and me, sweetheart. You helped me remember my strength.” He cups his hands around my face, claiming my attention, and I can’t do anything but wrap my hands around his cheeks too, cradling him reverently. “I wrote that paper because I was angry with the world. I couldn’t bear seeing you so comfortable in your skin, with your sexuality. It made me furious the way I was defenseless against your charm. The way my body reacted to you, wanted you, became obsessed with you. I fucking hated it.”
He kisses my fingertips one by one, then stares at me through hooded eyes. “All my life, I’ve hidden my sexuality. I was furious with myself for being…”
“Gay? Bisexual?”
“I don’t know.” His voice breaks. “I tried with women, as you know, I really did. It was safe and I could continue focusing on my studies.” He lets out a shaky breath, then glances down at the mark on his arm.
“That’s why this tattoo matters,” he adds. “I’ve never done anything impulsive before. Never claimed my truth in front of anyone. But I needed it etched on my skin. That you changed me. That I chose this.You.”
His smile is weak, and it makes my heart ache for him. “Then there was you. You just barged into my life, unapologetic, rude, sexy as sin, and you threatened everything I stood for. Everything. You made me delirious with longing. And then you played me, set me up, used me like a toy. Eleven years your senior and you had zero fucks to give. You just did whatever the hell you liked. You gave me the sort of attention no one ever did. You looked at me and made me feel seen. I… I couldn’t comprehend it. So, when you brought me to that gathering and I saw all these guys fucking each other… it made me furious. I wrote that paper with all the hatred I mastered. But my heart melted for you, and all I wanted was you.”
He takes both my wrists and places a kiss on them. “I’m so fucking sorry for what I’ve done. When I saw you in that basement, all battered and disappointed…it ate me alive.”
The skin he touches blazes, his lips blaze, my heart blazes for him. My voice trembles with how much I want to believe him, how much I already do. “Can you please forgive me?”
“Yes, baby, I forgive you. But don’t do it again. Ever. You made me so sad. You made me so angry. Furious. I was looking to get both of us burned.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “It’s the kind of reaction you have on me, baby. I wanted to ignite something in both of us, baby—a blaze we couldn’t put out. Something that would connect us, brand us, burn everything else away. Something that would make you come to me in darker times, not hide from me.”
“I will.”
I press my knuckles against his cheeks, drinking in this soft glow he so rarely shows. “The code of life rarely yields to education,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along the corner of his mouth where a faint tremor lives. The warmth of his breath lingers on my skin, grounding the thought with something human, real, painfully intimate. “Things just happen. Feelings flare up, not letting themselves be dictated by values. I wanted you the moment I entered the dark room in The Black Cat. The air smelled like wet stone and incense. I still remember the way your silhouette caught the candlelight—sharp, deliberate, forbidden. There was something about you, this contradiction and the heat that made me want to pursue you. When I found out you were my professor, I knew what you were in for.”
“You played me.”
I laugh. “I did. And I loved every second of it.” I pause, my laughter fading into a slow breath. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”
“And then I hurt you. I betrayed you.”
“You betrayed yourself, Noah. By ignoring your own impulses and desires. So, yes, you hurt me.” I rub my chest. “Here. Because you were not talking to me.” His eyes go soft, a kind of brokenness behind them that makes me ache.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Life doesn’t have to be that hard, baby. And life definitely isn’t all about studying. You often learn more by truly seeing what goes on around you. What people are really trying to tell you. But then, in a place like Saint-Laurent, things are often not what they seem.”
