Page 68 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Amelia had an arm around him, her fingers pressing in at the base of his spine, holding them firmly together. Her head was burrowed into the side of his neck, and she was inhaling deeply and slowly, her other hand still clasping at his fingers.
She was moulded to him.Shewasn’t pulling away fromhim.
Silas’ heart thundered in his chest, holding her to him. After a few breathless seconds, he questioned softly, “Winslow?”
Amelia reacted quickly, body jerking and head pulling back, staring at him with wide eyes, like she hadn’t realised what she had been doing.
She began stepping away.
Like a magnet, but with no magical excuse, Silas moved with her, eating up the space she had taken with his own step.
Her eyes widened further, his hand tightening on her waist. She looked shocked but didn’t move.
Feeling a sense of freedom he hadn’t for years, Silas did something he had dreamt of for so long. He reached up, capturing a silky curl between two fingers, his eyes tracking the movement. Amelia was still before him, while he gently tucked it behind her ear. It was a soft moment, to rival the heated one of their kiss in his lab. He let his finger trail a gentle path from the shell of her ear and across her cheekbone, which was stained a deep pink. He stopped at the corner of her lips, finger hovering at the edge of her full, tantalising mouth. Silas stared, mesmerised by the way her lips shifted with her sharp, uneven breaths.
The wall sconces flickered, pulsing along with the heavy beat of his heart.
Amelia shifted her head minutely, his finger brushing her bottom lip. He released a rough breath at the softness, the reality of touching her like this…
But was it reality?
His heart stuttered pathetically, considering whether it was the newly forged bond that had her letting him do this.
He knew he should move, but he was caught in a trap of his own desire.
“Is this what it wants?” he whispered, tearing his gaze from her mouth to find her eyes. There was a warmth and vulnerability in her gaze that he knew was rare.
“What?” she said, voice hushed.
Silas leaned in a fraction, her face so close that it was hard to shove away the thoughts of kissing her again, of taking her into his bed and exploring every part of her body. The thoughts plagued him, with how near that possibility was, right before him, so close…
His hand tightened at her waist. “It sure feels like it wants me to want you.”
Lies.
He had wanted her long before the bond, but what fuelled her? Was it her heart, or was it a cruel fabrication forged in magic?
Amelia’s eyes darted between his, the warmth leeching away slowly, the vulnerability closing like a slamming door.
She pushed away, and this time, he didn’t follow. His heart sunk as she seemed to shake off and discard whatever had passed between them.
Cheeks still rosy with a blush, Amelia cleared her throat, hands flexing. Casting him one final look, she walked for the door, not glancing back as she pulled it shut behind her.
Silas fixated on the spot where she had disappeared, his brain repeating the last look she had given him.
Unless he was deeply mistaken and his drink-addled brain were conjuring things, Amelia had looked hurt.
Deeply hurt.
Fuck.
SEVENTEEN
The sun, bright and searing, woke him the next morning.
It was no surprise that Silas felt sorry for himself, given he usually had no penchant for drinking. It had knocked him out not long after Amelia’s departure, that morning offering little but a pounding headache and a dry mouth that set him choking for a glass of water.
After a slow and sluggish adventure in bathing and dressing, Silas made his weary way to the dining hall, hoping he hadn’t missed breakfast. Within a few steps of the open doorway, a set of female voices stopped him in his tracks.
