Page 106 of Sonnets and Serpents
“Sorry,” Silas called after him, his tone completely unapologetic.
Eliza laughed. She tightened her arms behind his neck, drawing him back toward her, and his dark eyes held hers for a brief yet fathomless moment before he dipped his head to kiss her jawline, trailing up to her ear. Her eyelids drifted closed as she savored every sensation of his lips against her skin. He made her feel understood and cherished andseen.
He’d once told her that if real love existed, it would be a simple thing.Someone saying, I like you as you are.
From the start, he’dseenher. He’d never flinched from her darkest moods, and he’d never dampened her brightest ones. She was under no delusion that he’d likedher from the start, but he’d always known the real her.
And she dared to believe he liked her now.
Eliza turned her head, catching Silas’s lips again, and with everything inside her, she tried to kiss him in a way that said she felt the same.Just as you are.From his academic obsessions to his dry humor, from his endearing fascination with language to his irritating opinions about romance. He was bold and honest and wary, and she loved every part.
Even his magic, which was both dangerous and wonderful, which she’d seen both hurt and help.
He wouldn’t be Silas without it.
So she loved it.
Silas breathed in rhythm with her, as if their heartbeats had synchronized to that message—just as you are, just as you are—beating together in a way to never be undone. His kisses unraveled every understanding Eliza thought she’d had of the world.
Once, in a moment of annoyance, she’d thought him the antithesis of every romantic hero. While it was true that he would never go charging anywhere on a white stallion—indeed, it was unlikely a white stallion would even tolerate him as a rider—she hadn’t given him nearly enough credit.
Because no romantic hero ever imagined could kiss in a more passionate or tender way than Silas Bennett.
A suddenclang-clang-clangstartled them apart. Eliza looked down, watching a golden bracelet roll across the polished floor. Silas lifted his hand from the table, turning his bare wrist as if he didn’t recognize it. When he straightened, Eliza’s arms slid freeof his shoulders, and her own bracelet followed, hitting the floor and ringing through the domed hall.
In the echo of it, she recalled Yvette’s words about the Cast.If you aren’t both in love with each other, then the kiss won’t strike the right chord for the Cast.
Her heart stuttered and then surged. She looked up at Silas with a radiant smile.
Only to find him staring down at the pair of bracelets in clear horror.
“Mr. Bennett?” said an apologetic librarian, speaking from several feet away. She kept one foot in the stacks while her head was in the entry hall. She said something about noise and “displays of affection.”
Eliza’s face heated beyond any sunburn. Without the Cast, she could no longer understand every word, but the meaning was clear.
“Sorry,” Silas said, his tone genuinely apologetic this time. “We were just leaving.”
He snatched up his discarded bag while Eliza grabbed the two bracelets. She couldn’t say why, since they were useless now, but it felt wrong to leave them on the library floor.
The outside air only added heat to her face, and the humidity stuck to her skin, making her as uncomfortable as possible. Silas walked with quick strides, and she realized he could actually leave her behind now, so she caught his arm, dragging him to a stop.
“Can we talk about what happened in there?”
He shrugged. “Getting thrown out of the library—that’s a first for me.”
She was too nervous to muster a smile. “No, I mean the kiss.”
Kisswas hardly adequate. There had been many kisses, more than enough to leave her head still spinning.
He looked away, and the avoidance constricted her stomach.She clenched her fingers more tightly in the fabric of his sleeve, as if to prevent him from running away, and words spilled from her one after another.
“You kissed me back. Why? Were you declaring love? Asking me to stay? Takingpityon me? Use your words, Silas Bennett, in whatever language you want, and tell me what thismeans.”
He raked his free hand through his hair, trying to pull away, but she held fast.
“Tell me!” she insisted, forcing him to look at her.
“It doesn’t mean anything!” he burst out. “It just ... happened. It doesn’t mean anything.”
