EIGHTEEN #2
Visions of how she would flinch when bending, or her random grimaces flashed into his mind, and he understood with a sick clarity. She had been in pain, all this time. Runes never healed when used on a person, and that was one of the reasons the practice had been outlawed hundreds of years ago.
The conversation around a campfire in the middle of the Rift floated back to him. Silas had seen her discomfort over the words spoken about the Gemino tribe runing their people, but he would never have guessed that this was the reason behind it.
His hand tightened on the bare skin of her arm.
“Who did this?”
She raised her eyes then, her bottom lip trembling. “The runes haven’t been activated…not for a long time,” Amelia said shakily. “I swear, not for ten years. Definitely not since we’ve ever worked together. They’ve never helped with my research in the time we’ve worked together.”
Silas’ brows drew tight. “What?”
“I swear…” she whispered again.
His face slackened, piecing together what she was trying to say.
Silas breathed out incredulously. “Do you think I care about whether the runes aided in your intelligence? Do you honestly believe that’s what I care about in this moment?”
Something passed over her face, something like helplessness mixed with confusion.
“Don’t you?” she asked, a tremble rocking her slight frame.
Silas let her go and stepped away, giving her space as he shook his head.
“We’ve had our moments, Winslow,” Silas said, “but I’d hoped you wouldn’t actually think me a monster.”
He could see her mind working as she considered. Her mouth opened, then closed, before she turned away, facing the mirror once again. She reached for a small jar filled with a thick-looking clear paste. Amelia faced him, gesturing at the jar.
“Halpert has known about the runes my whole life, I mean…since I got them,” Amelia added hastily when Silas’ face morphed into rage.
“He helped me develop this salve. He would need to aid in applying it every few days. Without it, the scars become very painful and itchy…they’ll never heal completely, but the salve helps. ”
Silas was clenching his teeth together, the muscles in his jaw shifting.
She sighed softly. “They’re in such a difficult position, I can never do it myself very well.” Amelia handed it to him without meeting his eyes. “Would you?”
He took the jar silently as she bared her back to him. Silas swallowed, studying the carvings, the way they sliced her skin apart, the edges mottled and inflamed.
He blew out a breath, dipping a finger into the salve, but hesitating before touching her. He hovered just above the painful looking marks.
“It does hurt,” she said, and he met her eyes in the mirror as though she had read his mind, “when you rub it in. But trust me when I say it helps more than it hurts.”
Silas kept her gaze for a moment, then nodded and focused on the runes again. He touched her skin as gently as possible, hating the way she tensed, her shoulder blades flexing. He rubbed the salve across the two runes, being as light as he could manage.
“You’ve been in unnecessary pain the whole time you’ve been with me in Lunarian?” he asked, hating how rough his voice sounded.
She bowed her head, avoiding his gaze in the mirror. “I tried to apply it myself, but it’s terribly difficult. I did my best.”
Silas swiped softly over the cuts one more time before stoppering the jar and stepping away. “You should have told me.”
Amelia turned slowly, eyes low. She leaned onto the dresser, gripping the edges with both hands.
“It’s deeply personal,” she said, “and I’m very aware how people would look at it, and I get it.
It’s reprehensible.” Amelia raised her head, eyes shining with sadness.
“You and I have fought for years over academic prowess. Do you really think I wanted you to know about this? That I could have trusted you not to ruin my career with the knowledge?”
“Do you think so low of me?”
Amelia searched his eyes, and he could see her drawing conclusions. “I used to,” she admitted quietly.
Silas didn’t know how to respond. Her answer was fair. They had never gotten along. He had known that she would see him as untrustworthy, but it was still terrible to hear it.
He traced the edges of his teeth with his tongue as he watched her, eyes flicking to the reflection in the mirror, seeing the runes on her back. Stepping back into her space, he held her gaze.
“Tell me who did it.”
Amelia sighed, lowering her head again. Silas reached up, taking her chin, and forcing her to look back up. She sucked in a sharp breath at his touch.
“Tell me,” Silas demanded, palm coming to rest against her throat as he kept his thumb and forefinger against the sides of her jaw to keep Amelia’s eyes locked on him. He felt her swallow against his hand before she answered.
“What would you do with the information?”
He considered that as he stared into the depths of her dark eyes.
Kill them?
Perhaps return the favour?
He wasn’t sure, but Silas needed to know who was capable of such a monstrous thing.
He didn’t answer because he didn’t know.
Slowly, she shook her head against his hold.
“It will do no-one any good for you to know,” she said.
“Winslow,” he warned, and before thinking on it, his free hand gripped at the dip of her waist. It was only when his fingers touched her soft, bare skin that he remembered she wasn’t wearing a shirt.
She gasped breathily at the intimate touch. He expected her to push him off, to demand he move away with the way he caged her in. Instead, Amelia just looked up at him, a flush growing on her cheeks.
Then he felt it.
A wave of excitement, of anticipation, of…arousal.
It didn’t come from him.
His hand tightened against her waist as the feelings she unwittingly shared with him escalated his own.
He swallowed, feeling pieces of his control being chipped away.
It was the way she looked at him, her chest rising and falling quickly, the way her skin felt impossibly smooth under his fingers when he shifted them to the small of her back.
Would she let him kiss her again?
He was haunted by the echoes of their kiss in his lab, but he wanted it to be real .
That kiss had felt fuelled by something else.
It had happened so fast it now felt like a memory of a dream.
Silas wanted to touch her slowly, to feel and remember every agonisingly wonderful second.
He wanted to test the shape of her mouth with his own.
To feel her melt against him, to make all those terribly high walls come crumbling down, for him .
He wanted her to feel safe enough with him to be who she truly was.
He wanted her like he had never wanted anything else in his life.
Silas tilted his head closer, until their noses were a breath away from brushing. He moved slowly, giving her the opportunity to shift or ask him to stop.
Amelia said nothing.
She inhaled unsteadily before her eyes fluttered shut, and it was she who tilted her head a fraction backwards, lining up their mouths.
She would let him.
His heart fluttered like a wild, caged bird in his chest as his eyes moved to her lips, so close to his he would only need to move an inch to erase the distance.
Silas moved forwards, easing to the side at the last moment so that his mouth grazed at the redness on her cheekbone. Amelia twitched underneath him at the touch, her soft breath loud beside his ear.
Her hands released the edges of the dresser, moving to take either side of his waist, fingers digging in almost painfully. He welcomed it, her touch.
Silas used his hold on the underside of her jaw to tilt her head to the side, giving him unfettered access to the slope of her neck. He brushed his lips past the line of her jaw and down the column of her throat, delighting in every sensation of being so close to her.
The feel of her skin against his mouth.
The smell of her hair surrounding him.
The rapid pace of Amelia’s breaths as she let him explore her.
The surge of arousal which was so strong, Silas didn’t know if it came from him, or her…or if it was a combination of both. It was strong enough that he groaned against her skin before opening his mouth to graze his teeth there in a gentle bite.
“ Oh ,” Amelia breathed, and that one small sound nearly undid him.
He used his hand that sat in the small of her lower back to pull her body towards him until they were flush with one another.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
Silas pulled away from her neck to look down at her parted lips, knowing that this woman had the power to ruin him.
Amelia’s eyes flew open just before he could bring their mouths together, and he paused, seeing the hesitation on her face.
Silas shifted back a little more, trying to assess amidst the haze of desire.
She licked at her lips, a hand sliding from his waist and up the centre of his chest, her eyes shifting to watch the progress of her fingers moving up the front of his shirt.
“Do you think…” she whispered breathily, “…when you said last night that it was the bond, making you want me.” Silas felt some of the heat draining from his body at her words, felt his fingers slacken against her. “Do you think that’s what this is?”
Amelia’s eyes lifted to his.
“Do you?” he asked because he knew his answer, but he needed to know hers.
She both shrugged and nodded. His heart sank.
“I…I didn’t feel this way, before the cut,” she said softly, “and neither did you, right?”
Silas let her go, stepping away from her. The cold that rushed across his body was wholly unwelcome when compared to the heat of being pressed against her. Amelia’s hands fell away from him, and she glanced up, looking both relieved and disappointed.
His own disappointment swelled uncontrollably. If she wanted to blame the bond, she could go right ahead, but Silas wouldn’t.
He shook his head, watching as her brow furrowed. “No, that’s not right at all.”
Amelia stood there, looking puzzled, as though he had said something cryptic. Silas reached up to brush a hand through his hair, turning away from her. His thoughts felt jumbled and chaotic.
“We aren’t finished talking about those runes,” he said, hearing the dullness in his own voice, “but for now I’m going to the Spire to look around. Aurora was sending those journals, so once we have them, I’m hoping we can find some clarity on the bond.”
Silas moved for the door, half expecting her to stop him, but she stayed silent.
He left without looking back.