Page 15 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)

LOUIS

“ L ouis, can you help your father with the barbecue?” Natalie, my stepmother, peeks inside my room.

Damn barbecue.

I grunt. “It’s freezing out there.”

Natalie smiles sweetly. “And here I thought you liked parties.”

“Yes, but?—”

“Your father has talked about this the whole week. Here.” She flips me off by throwing my coat at me. “I couldn’t find your scarf.”

That's because he has it.

I’ve left Noah a graveyard of messages, each one more desperate than the last. Stubborn baby.

He freaked the fuck out after our gathering. Wouldn’t talk to me and drove off in that old barrel of his. That man is a danger on the road. The one who approved his driver’s license should be locked up.

I get it. It's a lot. All of us dressed up in cloaks and masks. Elder Jacques with his freaky cane. That man is sexually deviant, but if you stay on his good side, you have nothing to worry about.

Quickly snatching up my phone, I make my way down. Who knows? He might decide to text when I’m outside freezing my dick off.

I once overheard a conversation between a few guys at The Black Cat. They said obsession turns into stalking if the feelings aren’t mutual. I don’t agree.

I fuck. Get fucked. Watch, get watched. Let hands roam, mouths open. Sometimes I mess around with people just to feel something.

I don’t stalk. But I am obsessed. It’s ridiculous, considering we’ve only known each other a few weeks. But it sits under my skin like fire. My blood pounds in my ears when I go too long without a hit of him.

An older man with wild curls and stormy grey eyes. Who speaks like he resents the world, but teaches like he wants to share it. Who walks like he’s hiding, but kisses like he’s baring his soul.

I want to soothe him. To open up his head, slay his demons, and make him want all of me.

Because it’s all of him I want. My chest tightens at the thought, like my ribs are trying to cage the feeling before it devours me whole.

This adoration is teetering on obsession. I know that. But he’s already wrecked my world. He can put up all the walls he likes. It’s too late now.

When I walk into the kitchen, I’m treated to a front-row seat of drama. Natalie and Régis are standing face to face like two bulls, my little stepbrother with his coat on.

“No, you’re not leaving the house again. You’re staying at home, it’s Christmas.” Natalie’s gorgeous face is flushed, her eyes wet. “Tell him, Jean-Luc.”

Dad sighs. “You know what I’m going to say, Régis, darling.”

“Dad.” Arthur’s dark gaze fixes on Régis, who seems to shrink on the spot. “I’ll take him. Come on.” He grabs Régis by his arm and walks them toward the exit.

“No leaving the house,” Dad calls after them. “No visiting graveyards. No spying on homes that belong to a horrid past.”

“We’re just going for a walk,” comes Arthur’s muffled reply. The fucker can be fast if he wants to.

Dad lets out another heavy sigh, then nudges his chin at me. “Let’s go, Son.”

We settle outside. From our spot, we’ve got a perfect view of the ocean, with its silver waves and cloudy horizon.

Catering personnel are filling the grill. Dad hands me a glass of champagne, and together we stare at everything and nothing. Some courageous fools have come to swim in the sea, but other than that, it’s quiet today.

“I’m going to keep an extra eye on your grades, Louis. We need you to graduate with your brother. Get both of you integrated into the company.” His hand clasps my shoulder. “I think you’d be great in business development. People love you.”

“Of course they do. I’m a Deveraux.”

Dad chuckles. “That too. That’s why I’ve got private classes lined up for you.”

“Wait, what? What ?” I glare at him. “You’ve gotten me a tutor ? Are you for real?”

“To give you some guidance, that’s all. Besides, you seemed to be getting along well with your new teacher, Montague. He’s been doing great work with Régis as well.”

I blink. “You’ve got him as my tutor? Does he know yet?”

“Why?” Dad frowns. “Would you prefer someone else? I saw you waving at him the other day from the football field, so I figured, but I can change it.”

“No,” I say a little too quickly. “That’s fine.”

That’s actually really fucking fine. I lean in and give Dad a kiss on the cheek. “Great idea.”

He chuckles. “Well, that went down easily. Oh, and there’s something else.”

“Yeah?”

He gives me one of those dark looks that remind me 100% of Arthur. Only Dad’s is more bad ass. Back in his days, he was an absolute terror, is what Aunt Marie-Louise told me. Said that her baby brother would come home daily with his knuckles bruised because she got bullied in class.

“You know how I’ve wanted to modernize the brotherhood. Keep our traditions but transform us slowly into a fraternity that can survive the next century.”

“Yes?”

“It’s just…” Dad shrugs. “I get the feeling that not every member of the board agrees. Hiring Noah was part of the initiative, and everyone was with me. But, I don’t know, Son, it’s not always easy to get unanimity on ideas. Anyway, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Have you talked with Arthur?”

“No. He's got enough on his mind right now. Making decisions that will change his life. And you know what he’s like. He feels the need to carry the world on his shoulders.”

Yeah, I know what he's like.

“What about Régis?”

Dad simply huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Let them figure out their things together first.”

I let that one slip, because that’s a whole different topic. One that intrigues me tremendously.

A cork pops, and I jolt. Laughter follows.

“I never thought I’d live the day Louis would be scared off by champagne,” Arthur jokes, ignoring the content that sprays all over the lawn, before he puts it to his lips.

Family arrives through the communal gardens. Gael is entirely dressed in a shiny, silver suit, his hair slicked back and his eyes painted in black. Show-off. Always starving for attention like a peacock in heat.

I give him a critical once-over. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“You like it?” He poses for me, shaking his hips and ending with a bow. “Dior contacted me, asked if I wanted to showcase their new collection. There’s a photographer here somewhere, but I told her only to stay for the first hour. Wouldn’t want to show what goes on here after a few drinks.”

“Poor Dominique,” Dad mutters. "How does that boy survive him?”

“Not our problem.” We must all accept the consequences of our own decisions. Like me, I gracefully excuse myself while I slip out my phone. A tutor . I’m buzzing with excitement over Dad’s news.

Following our private path to take myself to the beach and to some privacy, I ignore gawking tourists.

I call Noah twice, three times, pacing the shore like a caged animal, my thumb twitching over the screen. He finally picks up. A door clicks shut on his end.

“Hello?”

“Hello to you, too. Finally. Merry Christmas, baby. I was beginning to believe you had booked a last-minute trip to the North Pole with no internet connection. Do you even know how many messages I’ve sent?”

He sighs.

“And…?”

“And what, Louis?”

“Have you at least read them?”

“You know I have.” His voice is soft.

Fucking victorious.

“I love your texts,” I add.

“I haven’t sent you a single one.”

“I wish you did.” Because my stomach swoops dangerously at the sound of his smoky timbre.

“That’s not going to happen, Louis. I’m your professor. We’re not friends.”

“Then tell me, Professor, am I the first guy you ever threatened with a knife? Or just the first one who begged you to do it again?”

“I’m not having this conversation now.”

“Then tell me something else. I love listening to your voice. Tell me about the gathering.”

“No.” He sounds tense. I imagine his glower, imagine his lips pressed together, and that vein popping in his throat. Fuck…my cock thickens at the thought of tracing it with my tongue, of biting his Adam’s apple.

“Did you enjoy watching?” I rasp.

“Louis…”

“Something, baby. Anything. It was hot, seeing them all together, wasn't it?”

“I need to go soon. I…just…” Noah walks away from the topic, and I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but I believe it has everything to do with the inner turmoil that ravages his mind.

“Yes, baby. I know it's hard for you to speak about it. I can feel it.”

“Stop provoking me,” he hisses. “You’re always pushing me.”

“Yeah. I want to know everything there is to know.”

Because I can read him so well. Because I will catch him whenever he stumbles and will keep on doing so until he’s as obsessed with me as I am with him.

“There isn’t much.”

“Well, I know this: you looked sexy as fuck in that cloak and that mask.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“Are you in your room, baby? All alone?”

There’s a beat of silence, and I swear, the tension rises.

“Yes,” he finally whispers, the word coated in hesitation, like he knows he shouldn’t be saying it.

“Good. Sit on lie on your bed for me, yeah? Just relax. Close your eyes. Imagine me between your thighs, nudging them wider with my nose. My hands slide down to where your hard cock’s waiting for…”

“Stop it,” he rasps. But his breath is ragged.

“My mouth,” I continue. “Let me make you feel real good.”

I hear the bed dip in the background.

“That’s a good boy. Now, lay down. Open your pants and take out your cock. Give it a nice firm stroke. Is it wet yet?”

“F-fuck…” I can hear the quiver in his voice. “Yes.”

“Good. Stroke it, nice and slow. Let your hand trail all the way down, fondle your balls. Then come up to the tip and brush that sweet wetness on your shaft.”

“Louis…”

“I love my name on your tongue, baby. Are you being good for me?” He moans in reply. “Stroke fast now. Let’s make that gorgeous cock come.”

“Ughmm…fuck…Louis…” He chokes on my name. I listen to his heavy breathing as I stare at the ocean. So peaceful.

“I want to taste your gorgeous dick, baby. Suck it all the way down my throat, squeeze your balls.” He mewls, the sweet sound making my dick painfully hard.

I have no desire to take care of myself.

No, bringing Noah to the brink like this—his fist, my voice, my name—is sweeter than any climax I could chase on my own.

Finally, his breath stutters, followed by a muffled cry.

Then, silence.

“I can’t believe I did that,” he finally mutters, sounding miserable.

“Was it good?” He doesn’t reply, but doesn’t hang up either. We stay like that a while, in silence, and I listen to his breaths becoming steadier.

“Louis…”

“Yeah, Professor?”

There’s a voice in the background, followed by Noah’s muffled reply. “I’ve got to go.”

Something ugly trickles down my spine. “Who’s there with you?”

“No one.”

“You fucking liar.” He’s mine. He just doesn’t know it yet.

He stutters an excuse, but jealousy is incoherent and fucking demanding . It throws all rationality out the window. My current dick-situation doesn’t help.

“Let me be clear here, Professor,” I snarl. “If I text you twenty times a day, you reply. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. If I want you to fuck me, you will. You don’t want to be in trouble.” I say it low, a threat curled in silk. You’re mine. Mine.

I hang up the phone, panting.

“Dude? Are you alright?” Gael’s standing at the beginning of the path, the magnum of champagne in hand, eyes wide with surprise. Around us, tourists have gathered, watching us. Filming. The motherfuckers.

“Well, looks like you don’t need that photographer anymore.”

He ignores my words, per usual, raising a curious eyebrow instead. “That sounded awfully close to a quarrel.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t.” I let out a heavy sigh, then snatch the bottle out of his hand, ignoring his triumphant snicker. “Fuck, I needed that.” I wipe my mouth clean.

“Who’s the lucky target of your stalkerish behaviour?”

“No one.”

“Texting someone twenty times a day isn’t considered stalking? Do they reply at least? Ouch,” he adds when I stay silent.

“Ha. Ha. Very fucking funny. Thank you for eavesdropping, fucker. Is that how you conquered Dominique? By stalking him?” I don’t mean for it to come out this harsh, but it does. Perhaps I’m asking him for advise in my own, fucked up way.

Gael turns to face the shore. “I didn’t have to stalk him physically. It’s his mind I had to corrupt.”

“What do you mean?”

Gael’s gaze softens. “Dominique’s been badly hurt. He got bullied at school, then lost his brother. He’s taught himself to flee whenever his emotions get too much.”

I think of Noah. Stoic, in control, always well-prepared. I think of the rough life he’s lived in Paris.

Gael wraps a silver arm around me. “Here’s the real question. Are you stalking your…special person? Or are you stalking yourself, going back in circles because you can’t break your own habits?”

“Piss off,” I grumble. But he’s got me thinking.

And those thoughts spiral fast, dragging up want and need in equal measure, wanting Noah with an intensity that’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

Because it’s not just about lust. It’s about needing someone who sees right through you, and wanting to be seen anyway.

Gael, the fucker. He always does that. Too many hours of meditating aren’t good for the mind. He plucks the bottle out of my hand. “If you need help stalking this person, all you have to do is call my name.”

His words fade, but their echo lingers. I laugh him off, but something in my chest is already stirring, hot and restless.

It pulls me back, violently, to that night.

I thought we were going to have some fun.

The atmosphere, the masks, the charged tension, it should’ve excited him.

But something in that ritual space cracked him open.

He saw too much, maybe too fast. And he fled, like the demons from hell were chasing him.

We walk back toward the party in silence, the wind tugging at Gael’s ridiculous coat and champagne still fizzing in my blood. The firepit ahead glows orange in the distance, casting shadows across laughing silhouettes.

Why did Noah run? Maybe because the mask slipped. His, mine, all of ours. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen the way I see him. But I’m done playing by his rules.

Well, things are about to change,because that’s not my modus operandi. I pull out my phone and send another message.

Little Devil: Merry fucking Christmas. I’ll be seeing you soon, Professor.

What? I’m a simple guy who feels hard. For my family, for plenty of things in life. The good things in life. Parties. Champagne. Sex. Cooking. I don’t hide and I don’t run. I don’t pretend . I fight and win.

And right now, it’s Noah I’m fighting. Thank fuck, I'm a winner. And Noah Montague? He was mine the moment he let me in. He just hasn’t figured it out.