Page 52 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)
“Move.” Dad scoots into the bed with me, his back pressed against the headboard next to mine, blanket draped as high as possible., his back pressed against the headboard next to mine, blanket draped as high as possible.
“I love him so much, I miss him every second he’s gone.
I need his scent, his warmth, the way he speaks to me, adores me.
I need him with a ferocity I never thought I was capable of.
And now I’m scared. My phone’s not here.
Where is he? Does he still want me? Does he miss me?
I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I’ve turned into this weakling.
I fucking hate it.” I let out a shudder and cup my cheeks with both hands.
Dad just chuckles lowly but doesn’t reply. Instead, we sit in the darkness. We sit in silence for so long that I think he must have fallen asleep.
“You know, I met your mom in college,” he finally says.
“She studied philosophy. A dreamer. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
I asked her out to dinner, the cinema, even clubbing, she refused them all.
Then I invited her to a master class on French poetry, and she said yes.
We sat in an old Atrium, listening to quotes on Descartes.
And then I heard her laugh. Clear as glass.
My heart went mad for her. I knew she’d be the one. ”
He pauses. “Two years later, we were married. Four years after that…you and Arthur.”
He turns toward me. “Arthur is me in many ways. But you, mon fils , you have her fire. She once said the Brotherhood was like a cathedral made of people, not stone. You carry that same belief, even when it hurts. You still do.”
I smile against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me.
We haven’t sat like this for a long, long time.
It's what the Brotherhood once stood for, before all the rot. And you don’t want to hear this, but you still are.
I smile with my head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me.
We probably won’t again for a long, long time. But tonight, it feels right.
“Arthur has always been the golden child,” I whine against his hair. “I was always jealous of him.”
“He only got that far because you protected him against everyone.”
“Not true.”
Dad pulls back to look at me. “Remember that time you beat up that kid from the bakery?”
I scrunch up my nose. “He kept on annoying Arthur.”
“Hmm. And what about that girl you locked in the bathroom? I had to come to school to apologize to her parents.”
I groan. “Maria Gaffard, I remember her. She kept on following Arthur like a puppy. He didn’t like it.”
“You get the point.”
I hum. I’d forgotten about those moments. “Do you think Noah can be accepted into the Brotherhood? His grandpa was a member after all.”
“I don’t know. It’s not common, but then nothing about this is common. The bigger problem is that paper he wrote.” Another squeeze. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s nothing we can’t fix. The Deverauxs didn’t get this far in life by being concerned about everything.
“Noah has a heart too big for his own good.”
“Which is why you’ll need to let him choose as well.
By joining the Alpha Fraternarii, he steps into a different world.
These are a group of men who haven’t been easy to lead.
Over the years, we’ve dealt with tensions, but I hadn’t realized they were still so strongly present.
I’ll have my team do a thorough background check on every single brother during the summer break.
Come September, we will take precautions.
Individuals like Zachary pose a threat to our future.
I’ve said this before, whether we like it or not, we’re going to need to modernize.
This is why we approved that initiative to have you guys running around at nighttime like some twisted pledge. ”
I nod against his head. “The Wicked Chase.”
“Yes. How’s that been going?”
“It’s been cool. Intense. Some of our brothers are very serious when it comes to claiming the one they want. It isn’t for everyone. A few students backed out during the actual hunt, because they were too scared.”
“Hmm. And Elder Jacques has been present during each Initiation?”
“So far, yes. There’s one more planned soon.”
“Good, good. Their little group of traditionalists has been a thorn in my side for long enough. Perhaps it’s time to shed some blood and give way to tomorrow’s leaders.” You see, This is why Jean-Luc’s my hero. He has this capacity of speaking in riddles that sound so fucking good.
“Aside from Zachary, who are you thinking of?”
“I don’t have any proof yet, so we’ve got to be careful.”
“Do we happen to speak of Elder Jacques?” I ask carefully.
Dad chuckles. “Don’t tell me you like the man? I’d be disappointed in you, Son.”
“Tss, pu-lease. We all hate that filthy, old fuck.”
“Hmm. My thoughts. He’s been on my radar ever since the drowning of Damien Devallée. That man makes my hands itch.” He pauses. “One day soon, he’ll overstep. And when he does...we end him. Quietly. Permanently.””
“Let Noah handle it, he’s good with a knife.”
Dad looks up, his dark eyes full of mischief. “Is he now?”
I yawn-smile against his shoulder. Ever since he officially adopted Régis as his son earlier this year, Dad’s been even more fiercely protective of us. And I fucking love it.
We sit together in silence. I don’t know when I fall asleep, but the next time I open my eyes, the sun is up, painting the ocean in silver sprinkles. Dad's gone.
The piano sounds welcome me downstairs. Dominique plays, while my aunt Marie-Louise and Natalie are cooking in the kitchen. Outside, I catch a glimpse of Gael and Arthur, who are splashing around in the pool.
Natalie rushes my way, followed by Marie-Louise. “Darling, you’re up. How are you feeling? Let me get you a glass of water.”
I let my stepmother boss me around and sit my ass down on one of the stools. “No water. I need something stronger to remind me I’m still alive. Fuck me, I feel like Sleeping Beauty.”
“Sleeping Beauty? More like Shrek.” Arthur comes barging in barefoot. “Although Shrek doesn’t drink like you do. You know how many bottles of champagne we saved ourselves while you were out of it?”
“Arthur,” Natalie chimes. “Dry your feet on the towels before walking inside. Your father wants you in his office.”
My twin gives me a crooked grin. Grabbing the towel, he dries his feet, then throws it my way.
“Fuck off!” I ball it up, then toss it right into his face.
“Cut it out. Both of you!” Marie-Louise cries. “I can see you’re feeling better.” She’s holding a bottle of Champagne. Got to love my aunt. She glares my way through heavy lashes, painted lips pursed.
“Took him long enough.” Gael walks inside. He heads over to the piano and tips Dominique’s head up by his hair, then starts eating his face like we’re not all there. Waiting for the drinks to be served.
“Yeah, well, you saved your balls from doing grocery shopping with Dad. Next time you can do it for the whole week,” Arthur grumbles.
But this time, when I look at him, I see things crystal clear.
He might pretend he’s stoic as fuck, but I know better.
He’s an ass, but he’s my other half. And if anyone touched him, I’d raze them to dust. He’d do the same. That’s just how we are.
“Don’t pretend you don’t care,” Régis pipes up from where he’s reading on the couch. “He lost his mind when we couldn’t find you. He was terrifying, honestly.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep a smile from breaking through.
Arthur once flipped a desk in middle school after a teacher mocked me in front of the class.
Called me weird. Arthur's fist trembled, but he didn’t apologize.
Just stared her down and said, “No one shits on my brother.” I think it was the first time I knew he’d go to war for me.
I’d forgotten that until now. “I’m touched.
Now, can we…I’m really thirsty.” I need a drink, need to feel I’m alive. But I won’t tell them that.
“Arthur.” Dad barks from his office.
“Where’s my phone?” I call. No one replies. Leaning against the couch, I tilt my head back against the pillows. It’s warm here. The piano plays, and my eyes flutter.
I look outside and squint. Melody? What the hell is she doing here? She’s laughing at something Gael says, head tilted like she’s known him forever.
And then I hear him: Noah’s voice.
My whole body goes still. That voice cuts through the fog like lightning through bone. I’d know it anywhere. He’s speaking softly, formally. That voice I know too well, trying to keep itself steady. He’s talking to my father. I can’t make out the words.
My breath stumbles. I don’t dare move, in case it’s a dream. But it’s not. He’s here.