Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Artemis
The path to Silas's cabin wound through a stand of pines, their branches swaying gently overhead.
I could smell woodsmoke before I saw the amber glow of his windows, and something in my chest loosened at the familiar scent.
I touched the marks on my throat as I walked—two bites, still tender.
Harper's on the left, Remy's on the right.
There was space between them. Space that had been aching for Silas since the moment I'd met him.
He was on the porch when I arrived, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed, watching me approach through the darkness.
Even from a distance, I could see the tension coiled in his frame—the way his shoulders were set too rigid, the way his jaw was clenched tight.
I could smell him beneath the woodsmoke, that deep, earthy musk that always made heat pool low in my stomach.
He was holding himself back. I'd learned to recognize the signs—the white-knuckled grip on his own control. Harper had done it too, at first. So had Remy. They'd all been so worried about overwhelming me, about scaring me off.
They'd all needed a little push.
"You came." His voice carried through the darkness, low and rough, his fingers digging into his biceps where his arms stayed crossed, knuckles white with tension.
"Did you think I wouldn't?" I climbed the porch steps, stopping close enough to catch the full force of his scent—pine and earth and something wild underneath that made heat pool low in my belly. I tilted my head, letting him see the marks on my throat. "I've been waiting for tonight, Silas."
His nostrils flared, scenting me, and I watched his eyes darken to slate. "You smell like them." His voice dropped lower, something rough and possessive bleeding through. "Like Harper. Like Remy."
"I smell like pack." I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, and tilted my chin up to hold his gaze. "But there's something missing, isn't there? You can smell it too. The empty space where you should be."
A low sound rumbled in his chest—not quite a growl, but close—and I watched the muscle in his jaw jump. His hand lifted, hesitated, then settled against my jaw with a gentleness that contradicted every tense line of his body. "Been waiting a long time for this, Omega."
The word sent a shiver down my spine. He rarely used it—rarely let himself lean into the dynamic between us so openly. "Then stop making me wait, Alpha."
Something flickered behind his gray eyes—want and fear tangled together—before he shuttered it away, his throat working as he swallowed hard. "Come with me. Want to show you something first."
He took my hand and led me around the cabin, down a narrow trail I'd never noticed before.
The trees thinned, and then we crested a small rise, and my breath caught.
A thick blanket had been spread across the grass, a fire crackling in a stone ring nearby.
It was the sky that stole my voice, thousands of stars scattered across the darkness, the Milky Way a pale river of light cutting through the black.
"Silas..." I breathed, my head tipping back to take it all in, the vastness of it making me feel small in the best way.
"This is where I come." He stood beside me, his hand still wrapped around mine, his thumb stroking nervous patterns across my knuckles. "When it gets too loud in my head. When I need to remember how to just... be still." He paused, his voice dropping quieter. "Never brought anyone here."
I turned to look at him, and the firelight softened the hard edges of his face, caught the silver at his temples, revealed the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. "Why me? You could have kept it to yourself."
"Because you're the only one who's ever made me feel like I don't have to be in control all the time." He swallowed hard, the tendons in his neck straining, his free hand curling into a fist at his side. "And that scares the hell out of me."
My heart clenched. This man—tthe feral part of him who was all quiet strength and barely-contained power—was terrified. Not of me, but of himself. Of what he might do if he let go.
"Silas." I cupped his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing across his cheekbones, forcing him to meet my eyes. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of what you might do. I want all of you—the gentle parts and the wild parts. Especially the parts you keep locked away."
"You don't know what you're asking for." His voice came out strained, his hands fisting at his sides, the veins in his forearms standing out with tension. "I'm not... I'm not like the others. When I lose control—"
"What?" I challenged softly, stroking my thumb along his jaw, feeling the muscle jump beneath my touch. "What happens when you lose control?"
He closed his eyes, a shudder running through his broad frame. "I take. I don't ask. I just take."
"Good." I pressed up onto my toes and brushed my lips against his, feeling him inhale sharply.
"That's exactly what I want." He kissed me back—slow at first, careful, his hands coming up to cradle my face like I was something precious.
His lips moved against mine with aching tenderness, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones.
I could feel the restraint in every line of his body, the iron will holding the feral part of him in check.
When he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, we were both breathing hard, his chest heaving against mine.
"Lie down with me?" His voice had gone rougher, his hands sliding down to grip my waist, fingers flexing against the fabric of my shirt.
"Want to look at the stars with you. Want to do this right. "
We settled onto the blanket side by side, shoulders touching, faces turned up toward the infinite sky. The fire crackled softly beside us, and somewhere in the trees, an owl called. I could feel his warmth all along my left side, could smell his scent wrapping around me.
"I used to come here as a kid." His voice was quiet, his hand finding mine in the darkness, threading our fingers together. "When things got bad at home. I'd lie here for hours, watching the stars, and everything else would just... fade away."
"What was bad at home?" I rolled onto my side to look at him, propping my head on my hand, my other hand resting on his chest where I could feel his heart pounding.
He was quiet for a long moment, his jaw tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
"My father was... traditional. About Alphas.
About what we're supposed to be." His thumb traced patterns on the back of my hand, the touch almost unconscious.
"Strong. Dominant. In control at all times.
Emotions were weakness. Softness was weakness. The only acceptable feeling was anger."
"Silas..." I pressed my palm flatter against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my hand.
"I learned early how to lock everything down. How to keep everything locked down." He finally turned his head to look at me, his gray eyes reflecting the firelight, liquid and vulnerable. "But with you, it's harder. I want things I've never let myself want before."
"What things?" I held his gaze, letting him see that I wasn't afraid.
His eyes dropped to my throat, to the marks that sat there, and his voice came out rough as gravel. "To claim you. To mark you. To make you mine in a way that can't be undone." His hand tightened on mine, almost painful. "To take you so hard you forget anyone else ever touched you."
Heat flooded through me, a surge of slick between my thighs at the possessiveness in his voice. "Then do it."
"Not yet." He sat up, pulling me with him, his hands going to the hem of my shirt, his fingers brushing the bare skin of my stomach. "First, I want to take care of you. Want to show you how much you mean to me."
He undressed me slowly beneath the stars—each piece of clothing removed with reverent attention, each inch of revealed skin worshipped.
He pulled my shirt over my head and immediately pressed his lips to my collarbone, then lower, tracing the swell of my breast above my bra.
His hands mapped my body like he was memorizing me, calloused palms skating over the curves of my shoulders, the dip of my waist, the flare of my hips.
"You're so beautiful." The words came out rough, almost pained, as he unclasped my bra and let it fall away, his eyes roaming over my bare breasts with naked hunger. "Every time I see you, I still can't believe you're real."
"Touch me." I arched into his hands, desperate for more contact, my nipples tightening in the cool night air. "Please, Silas. I need your hands on me."
His palms covered my breasts, warm and calloused, and we both groaned at the contact.
He kneaded gently at first, learning the weight and shape of me, then firmer, his thumbs circling my nipples until they peaked hard against his skin.
He watched my face as he touched me, cataloging every gasp and whimper.
"So responsive." His voice was low, gravelly, his thumbs flicking over my nipples and making me jolt.
"Love watching you react to me." Then his mouth followed his hands—hot and wet, his tongue tracing slow circles around one nipple before drawing it between his lips.
He sucked gently, then harder when I moaned, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak just enough to make me cry out.
His hand continued working my other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers.
"God—" I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
"Silas—your mouth—" He hummed against my skin, the vibration buzzing through my breast, and switched to give the other nipple the same devoted attention.
His tongue swirled around the tight bud before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth scraping just hard enough to walk the line between pleasure and pain.