Page 13 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)

“This.” He leans in before I have time to react.

His earthy scent envelopes me, the soft material of his scarf tickling my sensitive flesh.

His palm is firm as it cups the back of my head, splayed fingers digging into my hair as he presses me close.

“And this.” Nipping at my lips, he hums when they part in surprise, unwilling yet desperate to welcome him in to feast on my growing hunger.

Until my brain catches up.

I push him away, cheeks burning with embarrassment, even as a part of me aches to stay right there, tangled in the heat of his mouth, lost in the wrongness that feels so terrifyingly right. “What the…we’re in a church. We’re… in public …”

“Don’t worry, Professor, there’s no one here.”

“But there is. So, stop these blatant displays when we are in public. When we are anywhere .”

“Then stop ignoring my texts. Perhaps I should punish you. Maybe make you kneel for once, over the altar. What do you say?”

“I say you’re completely crazy. Listen.” A storm rages through my insides, throwing my emotions around, creating utter chaos as I bring us both to a hidden corner. “Our deal doesn’t cover you barging into my private space. It doesn’t cover you calling me baby.”

Ignoring me blatantly, he waves a golden envelope in the air. “For you.”

“Did you hear what I just said? And what’s that?”

“I knew you’d be curious. Open it.”

My eyes narrow as I take it from him, suspicious when I turn it around. The paper is decorated with gold, the handwriting elegant. But the words have me snap my gaze back to Louis. “You want me to come to a party ?” I shake my head.

“Not a party, a gathering. And you agreed to have a little fun.”

“A gathering .”

“Yep. Here’s your official invitation.”

He holds it out like a dare—an envelope, heavy with intent. I take it with a trembling hand, the weight of it anchoring something deep in my chest.

“My… formal… invitation,” I echo. My fingers brush his. A static crackle passes between us. I should pull away.

I don’t.

Our gazes lock. His pupils dilate. Mine probably do too.

“I want to make a few things clear,” I say, voice lower than I intended. “No more text messages.”

He leans one shoulder against the stone arch behind him, all studied ease. “I need to see you.”

“No more freshly pressed orange juice.”

“You need to stay healthy.” His smile is maddening. Too close. Too calm.

“No more buying me expensive books.”

“You needed to fill those bookcases,” he murmurs, stepping in, slow as sin. “You looked hungry for it.”

“No more breaking into my dorm.”

That finally earns me a grin—wolfish and unapologetic.

“And you haven’t even seen the result,” he says.

I narrow my eyes. “What result?”

He shifts closer, invading my space with the subtlety of a tide rising. His voice drops an octave.

“The dorm, Professor. Let’s just say it looks a little different now.”

His gaze skims over my face, lingering at my mouth. “You haven’t stepped inside lately, have you?”

My stomach drops.

“That’s a no. You’ll love the colouring, by the way.”

“When did you…I was there…” Beginning of the week. That’s when I last stepped into my dorm.

“Which leaves me curious; when are you going to move in?”

“I… I don’t know yet.”

“Well, make it soon.” Louis just presses himself closer, arching his neck. He has taken off his scarf, I’m not sure when. All I see is his slender throat, an offering for me to grab. “Now, squeeze it, Professor,” he moans. “You’ve already got me so hard.”

“Stop it.” But the demand falls flat with the tremble of my voice.

“Feel me.” He rubs our groins together. “I’ve been waiting for your fury.

For your frustration. You’re so angry with the world, aren’t you?

Here.” He guides my hand to his dick and squeezes it.

“Take it out on me. Make yourself feel better. Let me suck you, ride you to oblivion. Is that what you need, baby?”

White rage flashes through me as my defences crumble to ashes. He’s so fucking gorgeous like this. All malicious and bratty and too fucking much. I lose control.

“Little devil…”

I shove him back against the stone wall, kissing him like I want to eat him alive.

My mouth crashes over his, teeth dragging across his bottom lip.

I bite down, not gently. He gasps, and I don’t stop.

I kiss him again, harder, punishing, claiming.

Fingers in his hair, yanking. One hand clamps around his jaw, tilting his head to devour more.

He melts. Surrenders. Moans into my mouth like he’s starving for it.

I push my thigh between his legs, grind up until he whines, his whole body buckling for more. My cock throbs. My breath breaks. My head’s a goddamn firestorm.

“You fucking… predator .”

I shove him off me, chest heaving. His face is flushed, eyes wild, lips swollen. I want to ruin him. Worship him. I want him pleading, undone.

“No more stalking me.”

I glare at the letter and turn it around. “I’m going to need your word, Louis, even though that doesn’t mean anything. Don’t ruin my career.”

“Aww… are you begging me, Professor?”

“No, I...” Running a hand over my face, I push my glasses back. “No.”

He laughs at that, sweeping away the final bits of dignity, then pushes the letter closer to my face. “Just read the invitation, Noah.”

I hesitate, then draw in a breath. The envelope feels heavier than it should. I crack the seal, catching the faint scent of wax. The parchment inside unfolds stiffly beneath my fingers.

You, our brother, who carries his heritage with dignity and pride, who walks this world with his head high, searching—not quite finding—to belong. And belong you shall, brother, because today is the day that your life will change.

You are invited to become part of the inevitable, the circle of gold that will keep your spine straight and your dignity intact. To meld into a group of people who are like you, brother, who were once searching but who found—found—what life really means.

Loyalty.

Respect.

Tradition.

Sacrifice.

Tonight, your Initiations shall begin.

I look up, baffled. “What’s this, a joke?”

Louis shakes his head.

“Did you write this?”

He beams. “Do you like the handwriting? I’m good with cursive letters.”

“Louis…” I turn the letter back and forth. Honestly, I’m at a loss for words.

“Inside your office, in the lowest drawer of your bookcase, you’ll find your attire for the gathering.”

“My attire ?”

“Yes. Top secret. Keep it there, the drawer locked, or we’ll both be in trouble.”

My insides roar like a beast cornered, mouth parched with the sharp dryness of panic and disbelief. “What’s in the drawer, Louis?”

“Your cloak and mask.”

“Cloak and mask?”

“The gathering starts at midnight. Do you want me to pick you up from home after your…plans? I filled up the fridge in your office as well, in case you wanted to wait there.”

“Wait there…” I echo. The organ still plays.

My thoughts are a mess. Fear slithers down my spine like a cold breath against bare skin.

Questions, I have so many of them. But my survival instincts kick in, and I know I can’t trust anyone.

Not after what happened last time I let my guard down.

Not after the shelters, the betrayal, the way promises turned to ash.

Trust is how you get gutted. I never could. “No…I’ll be waiting in my office.”

Louis winks. “It will be a night to remember, baby. I’ll come and pick you up a little before twelve. Be ready.” Then he picks up his scarf and ties it around my neck, using the ends to pull me in for a toe-curling kiss that takes off the jagged edges of my trepidation.

“Now you’re nice and warm, baby.” Kiss . “I already miss you.” Kiss . “Keep your phone with you.” Kiss . “And text me back. I love getting messages from you.” Kiss . “Oh, and don’t bring your knife. We wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”