Page 97 of Crown of Thorns
“I don’t want to talk about that.” He presses his lips into a fine line.
“Baby…”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No.”
“Okay.” I place my hand over his. “Okay. Why don’t we eat something, hmm? You must be starving.”
Noah huffs. “What makes you think that?”
“Because you can’t take care of yourself the way I can take care of you, baby. That’s why.”
Noah’s nails dig deeper into my skin. His stomach rumbles, so I grab a croissant and nudge it against his lips, watching greedily when they open for me.
Noah chews, licking his lips before he swallows. I watch his Adam’s apple, coated in a two-day stubble, and I want to trace my tongue over it and lick him up. He looks at me like I’m not just his future, but the proof that he survived.
Noah watches me. “Who are they? The one who spoke? The one with the cane?”
A beat of unease coils in my gut. I do and I don’t. I’ve never seen him take charge like that before. And the way he spoke? Like he owned every man in that room. It wasn’t just ritual, it was personal. Dangerous.
I shake my head. “No. I mean, he goes by Monsieur Z. He usually only comes to get off. I’ve never heard him speak this much or see him lead a gathering.” I think of what Dominique said about the two strangers following Noah down. “The one with the cane is Elder Jacques, he’s our trainer. He’s a pervert and a criminal, but also a member of the board. But I don’t knowwhere they live or how they get here. I never thought of it, they were always just there, you know?”
“He spoke of revenge. And he stared straight at me when he said it. I didn’t even realize I was the target until he laughed. Until he made it personal.”
Louis stares at him for a beat too long, processing. “He’s never taken charge like that before,” I admit slowly. “Not once. That’s what scares me.”
If Z knew it was Noah, then this was more than Brotherhood theatrics. This was a warning. A declaration.
“Yeah, I heard that. Although, to be honest, they often speak in those kinds of terms. It’s all very… traditional, I suppose. Very formal.”
But even as I say it, a splinter of unease wedges deeper into my gut. Because the shed wasn’t symbolic. It wasn’t theatre. It was personal. And I’m not sure I can lie to myself about that anymore.
“Do you think those words were meant directly for me?”
“Who knows. Honestly, it’s hard to tell. Burning the shed was a dick move, and illegal, if you’re asking me. The shed sits on your land.”
Noah nods. I watch in fascination as his eyes darken, hardened in their intensity. He’s returning to being the man I cornered all those months ago. The man I blackmailed and forced into the exact corner I wanted him in. The one who loses control when playing with fire and unleashes like a madman. The survivor. “Well, he can come for me. I’m not scared.”
Not scared. Just furious. Because I still don’t know what I did to deserve it.
He didn’t just burn a shed. He burned the only proof Noah had that his parents once loved each other. That’s not a threat, that’s a signature.
And I see it now. How shaken he is, even if he hides it behind defiance. He’s not just in trouble. He’s cracking under the weight of too many truths. If I don’t pull him out of this spiral, someone else will push him deeper. And I’m not letting that happen.
Leaning in, I lick off the crumbs from his lips. “Liar. So, your real name is Noah Guinand, like Melody. I should have known.”
He watches me as I text Amadou, nibbling from another croissant. I ignore the family thread. Natalie’s going crazy over this weekend, since we’ll all be home. I swear she was meant to be a Deveraux, just as possessive and clingy as the rest of us.
He needs air. Space. Something real. And I need to understand him, not just what happened last night, but who he became when he disappeared from the world. Paris holds his past. And maybe, if I walk it with him, I’ll finally get to carry his future.
Upon reading Amadou’s reply, I look up at Noah with a grin. “You’ve got one hour.”
He pauses mid-chew. “For what?”
“Before we leave.”
“Leave? Where are we going?”
This isn’t just a date. It’s a line in the sand. He told me everything, or nearly. Now I want to see it for myself. I want to earn the parts of him that don’t come easily.
