Page 93 of At the Mercy of Midnight
“But your sister…she mentioned a girlfriend?” she said, cheeks pink.
Silas blinked. “That was over a year ago. We dated for two months, realised we didn’t fit, and ended it. Amicably. Aurora was just being meddlesome when she said that.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, looking over to the far wall.
“I don’t know what to do with any of this,” she admitted finally, barely above a whisper.
He studied her for a moment before giving her a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to do anything. Just maybe stop pretending it doesn’t exist.”
She worried at her lower lip, her gaze shifting, sliding over his face as though she were seeing him for the first time. Her head tilted slightly.
“How do we know those words are even real?” Amelia asked. The question sounded forced, as if even she didn’t believe it.
He saw through it. “I’ll be finding the source of that quote,” Silas said, a slow smirk curving his mouth. “Mostly to see if the book’s relevant to us…but I’ll happily highlight that exact passage for you.”
Her eyes searched his, and he stayed silent, letting the tension draw tighter between them.
She cleared her throat and looked away before pushing to her feet, stepping back with folded arms.
He stood, too.
When she looked at him again, his pulsed stuttered. It was a look of half hesitation and half something darker. There was no trace of her usual scorn, only something heated.
He stepped forwards. “Would you like me to explain and demonstrate, scientifically of course, why it couldn’t possibly be the bond?” His voice was low, suggestive.
She swallowed, her lips parting. Her answer was breathless yet certain. “Yes.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move, almost too stunned to. Then he stepped closer still, close enough to reach out and touch her.
Their eyes locked, heat passing between them in a way that was certainly undeniable.
“Firstly,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips along her arm, “I’ve wanted to touch you long before the cuts. That hasn’t been altered by the magic.”
His fingers circled her arm, and he stepped forwards, guiding her back two small steps, until she nudged against the pillar in the middle of the room. Her breath hitched as he closed in, looking down at her.
“Secondly,” he continued, voice as soft as it was dangerous, “…the bond has been mirroring our emotions. We’ve felt all manner of things from each other—anger, elation, fear, frustration…desire.” His hand slid over her shoulder, a single finger gliding over her collarbone. Her chest rose sharply. “All natural responses…why would it enhance one emotion over another?”
Amelia breathed quickly while his finger trailed up her throat, pausing beneath her jaw, tilting her face up a fraction.
Her breaths ghosted across his mouth.
“Thirdly—nothing we’ve read suggests it could fabricate emotional resonance or…sexual attraction.” His thumb brushed against her skin, her body shivering under the touch. “Has it?”
“No,” she breathed.
He inhaled slowly, his gaze darkening. “Then tell me.” He leaned in, lips brushing her cheekbone. “From a scientific standpoint…how does this make you feel?”
Her fingers curled around his shoulder. “It’s…” A shaky breath escaped her as his mouth skimmed her ear. “Certainly eliciting a reaction.”
“Noted,” he murmured, a hand skimming down her side and just grazing the curve of her breast before sliding beneath her shirt. Heat met his palm, her skin taut and muscles twitching beneath his touch. “How about this?”
He felt her head nod next to him. “It’s…” She paused to gasp breathily, his fingers travelling upwards, brushing at the edges of her undergarment. Her hand tightened against his shoulder. “…Good.”
His mouth curved against her skin. “Just good?”
He leaned back, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed, lips parted, breaths shaky.
