Page 66 of At the Mercy of Midnight
A knock on the door came sometime later, a few many drinks later.
A few many?
Well, lots.
He didn’t bother to answer. Silas didn’t feel like visitors. He was enjoying his own company for once, enjoying that his mind felt heavy and blank, all prior worries shoved somewhere irretrievable for now.
The knock came again, this time louder and accompanied by a sweet, sweet voice.
“Finley? Are you in there?”
Amelia.
She was the most beautiful human he had ever met. Stern and direct? Yes. Serious and stubborn? Also, yes. But undeniably beautiful with a depth of soul and character that he wished to tease apart with endless hours spent in her company.
She was so much more than what she revealed, he knew it.
Silas opened the door, leaning heavily into the frame and peering down at her. So small and cute, she was.
“Evening, Winslow…you coming to rain on my parade?”
Amelia’s face shifted from surprise to concern. “Are you…” Her eyes flicked to the crystal glass in his hand, before moving back to his face. “Drunk?”
“Mm,” he hummed, smiling softly. “You’re so perceptive, so observant, so very perfect you are.”
Her brows drew together, looking him over before sighing. “Shall I assume the conversation with your sister didn’t go so well?”
Silas pressed his lips together, staring into her dark brown eyes. They were so sharp, so knowing. He wanted to lean closer, gaze into them before he might brush his thumb across that delicate arch of her cheekbone.
“Finley?” she prompted again.
He reared back, realising he had been unconsciously leaning close. Silas attempted to straighten himself, clearing his throat.
“You have caught me at a bad time, admirably…um, I mean admittedly,” Silas said with a chuckle. “Perhaps we should speak tomorrow.”
Amelia frowned. “It’s nearly midnight.”
He stared at her, brain stalling.
She exhaled impatiently.
“You know…the cursed time of every day where magic brings us together against our will?”
The reality slammed into him, and Silas blew out a breath, wondering how he could have possibly forgotten.
He cleared his throat again. “Ah,” Silas said, pushing away from the door. “But, of course…one can’t possibly have an evening to wallow in blissful ignorance, can one?”
“Finley…are you alright? What happened with Aurora?”
Silas set his glass down on a table, turning back to her. She had moved into the room, shutting the door behind her. Amelia had shed the heavier winter gear, now wearing herbrown slacks and a black long-sleeved shirt. It fit to her body, sitting against every soft curve.
So. Achingly. Beautiful.
Forgetting himself, he breathed in sharply and forced his gaze back to her eyes. Silas attempted a smirk. “Are you pretending you care for my wellbeing?”
Amelia just stared, lips parting and looking uncertain how to respond.
He laughed. “Have I rendered you speechless? My, that’s a first.”
