Chapter 20
The cool stone at my back is the only thing keeping me upright.
It seeps through my sweater, anchoring me to the moment, grounding me just enough to keep from sliding into the grass below.
My eyes track Silas’ retreating figure. His shoulders look…
lighter somehow. Not like when he first came my way, jaw clenched, footsteps heavy with intent.
Now his movements are loose, casual. One hand is shoved into his jeans pocket, and his posture says he got whatever it was off his chest. Lucky him.
He makes his way back to the fire pit, where Rafe sits with Morella next to him, like a kid sent to the corner for something they didn’t mean to do.
I watch Silas approach, saying something to Morella.
I can’t hear what, but her reaction says enough.
Her face stiffens, her eyes flicker with guilt, and then she looks in my direction.
She stands, wraps her arms around Silas in a tight, brief hug, and then peels away stumbling slightly in my direction.
I watch her for a second, but my gaze drifts back to Silas. He drops onto the log beside Archer, who casually passes him a half-empty clear bottle without missing a beat. Silas tips it back like it’s water. Based on the grin on Archers face, he's the one who drank most of it.
I let out a slow, heavy sigh and press my palm to the stone before pushing off. My legs feel stiff, like I’ve been frozen in place too long. I tell myself I’m meeting Morella halfway, showing her I’m okay, but the truth is murkier than that. Am I okay?
I glance down at my chest. It’s still flushed. My skin is damp. My body’s betraying me in the worst way. I tug my sweater over my head and grip it in my hands, trying to cool down. It wasn’t even a warm sweater. Just for show. But Silas… he did something to me. Something electric and confusing.
I blink hard. No. He humiliated me. He tore me down with words that should’ve made me hate him. So why the hell am I turned on?
Oh.
A wave of disgust rolls through me. I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought, but the shame sits stubborn in my gut. That’s when the path ahead of me is blocked by three bodies I would rather throw into the fire pit.
“Oh! Hi Liv, I didn’t see you there,” Maddison purrs, her tone as sweet as poison. “In fact I didn’t expect to see you at all. Did you follow Morella here like a lost little puppy?”
She lands her hit with surgical precision. Maddison always knows where to slice deepest.
“Maddison.” I say flatly. I’m not biting tonight.
She glances back over her shoulder, where the guys are laughing. “I hope you’re not planning on heading back to the lion’s den?”
I arch a brow. “Actually, I think I’ve had enough of the circus for today.”
Morella steps up beside me then, her presence like a shield sliding into place.
Maddison gives her a once-over, then me.
Her mouth pulls into a sharp smirk, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other coming up to tap a finger on her cheek.
“Funny. Hyenas always look so sure they belong… right up until they starve.”
The venom in her voice is sugar-coated, but the words strike clean.
“Oh please, Maddison,” Morella scoffs. “Rafe could barely keep down his bile while you were rubbing all over him. He hurled as soon as you were out of earshot.”
All three girls recoil like they smelled something foul.
Maddison, though, is quick to recover. She turns back to me, smiling like she’s already won.
“Either way. Silas plays with new things all the time. Doesn’t mean they stick around.
He’ll get bored of you soon enough and go back to Chelsea, where he belongs. ”
I should correct her. Tell her I’m not interested. But something dark and impulsive climbs up my throat instead.
“Oh, I see,” I say, looking straight at Chelsea, “He got tired of his overused plaything but she wants another playdate. Thanks for the heads up. I don't want to end up like Chelsea, following him around like a lost puppy.”
Her expression crumples just a bit. I take Morella’s hand and turn without another word. I’m done here.
“I cannot believe that bitch said that shit to you,” Morella fumed, leaning against the driver's side door of her car.
“Or you…” I mutter, arms crossed as I look out at the trees behind Morella. We've been standing here a while now. Neither of us are ready to drive yet. The air smells like woodsmoke and pine.
A noise behind us makes me turn. Rafe climbs into his SUV, throws the door shut, and calls out through the open window, “Get in now if you’re coming.”
I blink, glancing at Morella, who’s already walking around her car to stand beside me. “Yay…” I mumble with all the enthusiasm of a funeral.
“I am not sitting shotgun,” I grumble as we cross paths toward Rafe’s car. Me heading for the seat behind him.
“That’s fine,” Morella calls lightly, already rounding the front of the vehicle. “I’ll sit up front.”
I grab the rear passenger door handle, tug it open and freeze. Silas.
Of course he’s already in the back. His arm is lazily slung across the backrest. He gives me a look that’s nothing but teeth and mischief.
I seriously consider walking home. I even spin to do it, only to run smack into Archer’s chest. He towers over me, one hand braced on the roof of the car, the other on the door jam.
“Get in the car, Liv.”
My stomach twists. Reluctantly, I climb in. I try to keep to myself, fold into the smallest version of me, but there’s no space. Silas and Archer fill the entire backseat. No matter how I sit, I’m pressed up against one of them.
Silas is thrilled. I can feel it radiating off him. He keeps playing with the ends of my hair, brushing his fingers just behind my ear. His arm never moves from the backrest. Every breath I take, I can feel him watching. My hands tremble as I grip my sweater tighter in my lap.
I glance toward Archer hoping to ward off Silas, but it doesn’t help. Archer is pretending to be half-asleep. I know this because I can see a faint smirk play on his lips as we pass under a streetlight.
Facing forward isn’t any better. Rafe’s eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror, cold and stern. I look away quickly. I’ve never needed to get out of a car so badly in my life.
The shower helped. I’m sitting on the edge of Morella’s bed now, hair damp, nerves frayed. Meanwhile, she’s emerging from the bathroom like death warmed over.
“Ugh. No more watermelon battery acid for me,” she groans, flopping onto the bed in her black satin robe, a towel perched like a crown on her head.
She drapes an arm over her face and mumbles, “How are you feeling?”
I glance at her, legs crossed, fingers laced in my lap.
“I’m fine. Maddison’s gonna have to do better than that.”
Morella moves her arm and squints at me like I just said the sky was green.
“I meant with Silas.”
Oh. I look away. My cheeks burn, my teeth catching the edge of my bottom lip. How am I feeling? The moment at the chapel replays in my head again. Then the car ride. The way he watched me. The way my body reacted. I think I liked it.
“Oh my god,” Morella gasps, sitting up. Her mouth drops open. “You totally loved it.”
I groan, covering my face.
“Okay, maybe not when he called me a whore, but…” I peek through my fingers. “Afterwards.” He smelled so good.
“If you’re into him, I’m not one to judge,” she says, throwing her hands up like a surrender.
She yawns and collapses back on the bed. “Let’s talk more tomorrow. I’m so tired.”
“Or drunk,” I tease, crawling up beside her.
But sleep... sleep doesn’t come easily.
My phone buzzes beside me.
I crack one eye open and wince at the barrage of messages. Mom. Of course. She sends every sentence as its own text. I squint at the time in the corner, just past noon.
“Fuck,” I breathe, sitting up, limbs aching like I ran a marathon in my sleep.
“What happened?” Morella mumbles into her pillow.
“It’s past noon. I should get home. I need to rid myself of this hangover before school tomorrow.”
She starts to rise but I wave her off. “Don’t worry. I’ll call an Uber. You desperately need more sleep.”
I slip out of bed, still in my oversized tee, and weigh the idea of adding shorts, but the house is silent.
I’ll dig them out of my bag and put them on in the Uber quickly.
I grab my things and pause at Morellas door on the way out.
I’m about to say goodbye when I hear her faint snores. She’s out cold already.
I pad down the stairs directly to the front door.
I just got the notification that Angie has picked up my request. I reach the front door when I feel a heavy presence behind me.
I sigh, eyes closing in irritation as I spin expecting to find Rafe making sure I leave quickly. But to my surprise I find Silas.
And holy hell.
His smirk is lazy, eyes hooded like he’s still half-asleep. His hair’s a mess. And he’s shirtless. Very shirtless. His pajama pants hang low on his hips, and every line of his chest and abdomen shows off every muscle.
My eyes start to travel down his chest, but they snag on silver piercings. He has his nipples pierced. It’s kind of hot. It’s actually really hot. My gaze lingers as I start to chew on my lower lip. His smirk deepens.
“Leaving so soon?” His voice is a rough growl. Thick and sleepy and unfairly sexy.
“It’s past noon,” I manage, because my brain refuses to come up with anything better.
He steps closer and I can smell him. Cologne or soap, I can’t tell. It just smells like him. Like heat and hunger. His fingers brush my thigh and I make a noise. Somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. I'm really wishing I would’ve worn shorts.
“I love this shirt on you,” he murmurs, his knuckle sliding upward, “but mine would look so much better.”
I freeze. “You don’t have a shirt on,” I whisper.
He leans in, breath warm against my ear. “Ah. So you did notice.”
My whole body tenses. My phone pings. Silas leans back slightly, his eyes flicking to the screen in my hand.
“I really have to go. My Uber is outside.” I pivot to leave, panic rising.
But his hand closes around my arm.
“Ouch!” I yelp. Instantly he lets go. I rub my arm where he grabbed me and that’s when I see his gaze is locked on the bruises peaking out from under my sleeve.
This may be an oversized tee but that doesn’t change the fact that the sleeves only go part way down my biceps.
His hand finds my arm again, gentler this time, and he turns it slowly.
His thumb hovers over the discolored skin.
His expression shifts, from smug to still. His eyes narrow, jaw ticking. Recognition and something that almost looks like… pain. Before he can speak, my phone buzzes again. I yank my arm back, grab my bag, and bolt out the door.