Chapter 2 – Lilith
CHAPTER TWO
LILITH
“I’m going for a walk; I’ll be back in a bit!” I call over my shoulder as I slip out of the bar, the small, wrapped gifts tucked tight beneath my arm. The door swings shut behind me, sealing in the laughter and Christmas music.
Outside, the town lies hushed under a spill of moonlight.
Frost glitters along the pavement, and my breath ghosts in the air as if the night itself is trying to steal it from my lungs.
Windows glow gold as families celebrate inside, but the streets are empty; just me and the long shadows stretching toward the woods where Morbius is waiting.
The thought warms me more than my coat ever could.
The past few weeks have been a fever dream: stolen kisses, secret smiles, the brush of his hand at my waist like a promise.
I hadn’t meant to fall for him. Not like this.
Not so fast, not so completely. But I have.
And now the idea of leaving this town, of finally chasing the world I’ve been saving for, makes my stomach twist.
What is the world compared to him?
I reach the tree line and step into the forest. The air shifts immediately; colder, heavier, alive with the whisper of branches overhead.
The path to the old bird-watching shed is second nature now.
Mr. Harris built it years ago, but it’s ours.
Our refuge from my parents’ tight smiles and tighter rules.
From their endless insistence that I should be with someone like Lewis, the doctor’s perfect son with his perfect future.
They’ve never understood me. Morbius does.
The shed appears through the trees like a dark secret.
I slip inside and switch on the small camping lantern.
Its thin glow barely dents the darkness.
I sit on the narrow bench, rubbing my hands together, wishing I’d worn more than sheer lace beneath my long padded coat.
If he doesn’t hurry, I really will freeze to death.
The door creaks open. I’m on my feet in an instant, heart leaping. With a grin, I unzip my coat and let it fall open, hands on my hips.
“Merry Christ—”
The word dies in a shivering gasp.
Silas stands in the doorway. His eyes flare, not with embarrassment, but with something darker. Hungrier.
A shriek rips out of me as I spin away and yank my coat closed. “I thought you were Morbius!”
“I guessed,” he replies coolly.
My cheeks burn hotter than any fire could manage. I turn slowly to face him, suddenly aware of how small the shed feels. Of how very alone we are.
“Where is he?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.
Silas doesn’t answer at first. His jaw is set so tightly I can almost hear his teeth grind. Anger flickers across his face; no, not just anger. Pain. Something raw and barely leashed.
“He told me to tell you he’s sorry,” Silas says at last. Each word sounds dragged over broken glass. “He had to leave. Urgently.”
The world tilts.
“Leave?” My voice cracks. “He didn’t say anything about leaving.”
Silas watches me too closely. “You’re cold.”
“Silas.” My chest aches. “Away where?”
“Can’t say.”
“Is it your parents? He said your mum wasn’t well.”
“I’ll start a fire,” he cuts in, already turning away.
Before I can protest, he’s gone and then back again almost instantly, arms loaded with wood. I blink. I hadn’t even heard him move through the forest.
He kneels, striking a flame. The fire catches quickly, hungrily, as if the night itself is feeding it. Heat blooms against my frozen skin.
He lifts the heavy bench as though it weighs nothing and places it by the flames.
“Sit,” he orders.
I do. He drapes a blanket over my legs. It smells faintly of smoke and something else.
“Where did you get this?” I ask.
“Brought it.”
Of course he did.
We sit in silence, the fire crackling between us. Shadows dance over his sharp features. Silas has always been the quieter one; the watcher. But tonight there’s something coiled beneath his stillness, like a predator pretending to be tame.
“This is him dumping me, isn’t it?” I whisper, staring into the flames.
“I don’t know.”
My gaze snaps to him. “Where is he really? You two are practically attached at the hip.”
His black eyes burn into mine, so dark they almost swallow the firelight. For a heartbeat, something flashes there; a warning, a confession, or both.
“I don’t know,” he repeats.
The lie hangs between us.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box. “He asked me to give you this.”
Hope surges so fiercely it hurts. I take it with trembling fingers and open it.
A silver chain rests inside; a black pendant shaped to a sharp point.
“It’s obsidian,” Silas says, his voice roughened. “Stone of strength. A shield against negativity. Against fear.”
Against what hunts in the dark, his tone seems to imply.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe. “Will you?”
I turn, lifting my hair. I unzip my coat just enough to bare my shoulders.
The cold bites, but when his fingers brush my skin, I forget it entirely.
His touch is feather-light. Reverent. He fastens the clasp and lingers.
His knuckles trace the curve of my neck, slow enough that my pulse begins to hammer beneath his fingertips.
He feels it. I know he does.
When I turn back, we are too close. His gaze drops to my mouth.
“Thanks,” I murmur, shifting back, breaking whatever spell had begun to wind around us. “I should get back.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“You know, I did manage to get here alone.”
“There are monsters around these parts,” he says lightly.
Something in the way he says it makes my skin prickle. I laugh anyway. “Did you just make a joke?”
His lips twitch. “I’m full of surprises, Little Firefly.”
He’s called me that before, and even now I don’t know why. I’m about to ask, but there’s a softness in his eyes tonight I’ve never seen. It unsettles me. Draws me in.
“This is me,” he says quietly. “You’ve just always chosen to see my brother instead.”
The honesty strikes like a blow. I scramble for distraction and hurry into the shed, grabbing the gifts. I slip Morbius’s into my pocket and hold the other out to Silas.
“For you.”
He doesn’t move at first. Just stares at it as it might vanish.
“You got me a gift,” he says hoarsely.
“Of course I did.”
He unwraps it with painstaking care, folding the paper instead of tearing it, as if it matters. As if it’s sacred.
“It’s the first gift I’ve ever received,” he says without looking up.
My heart splinters.
When he opens the box, a yellow smiley face pendant gleams up at him.
“It’s a joke,” I rush. “To make you smile more. I didn’t know it would be—”
“It’s perfect.”
He slips it over his head immediately. The bright little face rests against his chest, defying his black T-shirt and moody exterior.
“Your biker friends might object,” I tease weakly.
“I don’t give a damn.”
He steps closer. The fire crackles behind us, but I barely feel its warmth. His eyes are darker now. Deeper. Endless.
“This,” he says softly, touching the pendant, “is something I will cherish for eternity.”
Eternity. The word shouldn’t sound the way it does coming from him.
“And you,” he adds, voice dropping to something almost feral. “I would also cherish for eternity.”
My breath catches.
A twig snaps in the trees. We both turn.
Morbius steps into the firelight.
“Making a move on my woman, brother?” he asks with a lazy grin. But his violet eyes are ice cold.
Silas doesn’t look at him.
“I just gave Silas his present,” I say quickly, rising onto my toes to press a light kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Silas.”
I hurry to Morbius and leap into his arms. He catches me effortlessly. His mouth crashes onto mine, possessive and consuming. His grip tightens just a fraction too much.
“Thank you for my present,” I whisper against his lips.
“Present?” he asks, glancing at his brother.
“The necklace,” Silas says evenly. “I gave it to her for you. As you said, you were going to be away.”
Morbius’s smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I wouldn’t miss spending time with my girl.”
The air thickens; heavy, volatile. The two brothers stare at each other like soldiers on opposite sides of a battlefield, only they can see.
Something ancient and dangerous hums beneath their silence.
I clear my throat. “I’ve got your gift.”
Morbius’s gaze drops to my mouth, hunger sparking. “Then give it to me, baby.”
My stomach flips.
When I glance back, Silas is gone. Just…gone. No footsteps. No retreating shadow. Only the faint scent of smoke and something metallic lingering in the air.
Morbius’s arm tightens around me as he guides me into the shed.
“Ignore my brother,” he murmurs. “He’s always wanted what’s mine.”
The words should sound teasing. They don’t. They sound like a warning.