18. Eighteen
I’m frantic, clinging to Silas like he’s my last shot at survival and I’m desperate not to lose him. My legs wrap around his waist, the heat of our skin is building by the second, and I have no intention of letting go.
My lips brush and bump against his, my body acting as if on instinct, working to pull him impossibly closer. He matches my frenzy with each and every press of our lips. Every move stokes the fire higher and higher, the inferno threatening to consume me entirely. One of his arms is banded around my torso while his other hand is gripped onto my thigh. His fingers dig into my skin and the bruising pressure only heightens my frenzy.
He deepens the kiss, wordlessly directing my own movements. His tongue brushes against mine and I let out a gasp, the feel of it so new and intimate. His teeth catch my lip, and my thoughts empty entirely.
My breath is coming in shallow gasps and all I want is more. I want to pull him into me somehow to make him a part of myself. My nails bite into his back, my claws gripping onto my prize. A deep groan rumbles out of him in response and he pulls me in tighter.
Days could have passed with me wrapped around him and I wouldn’t have noticed.
Just as I’m starting to believe I could drown in this man, everything stops.
It’s over.
Silas wrenches his lips away from mine and starts pulling my legs away from him, guiding my feet to the slick rocks below us. My arms won’t release his neck, and something in my chest feels like it’s cracking, crumbling away.
“We should go back to the house,” he rasps, his chest is heaving and his voice is uneven, but his hands don’t shake as they take my arms and remove the last of my grip on him.
“Wait, what?”
He rests his hands on my shoulders, ready to hold me back, like he wasn’t as much a part of this as I was. I can’t ignore the way my lips buzz, the weakness in my knees. It feels like my body is about to fall apart in front of him.
“We should go back.” He releases his grip on me and scratches his jaw. “This was a mistake.”
All the butterflies in my stomach die at once, crushed by the twisting in my gut. I drop my gaze to the water flowing around my waist, unable to look at the frustrated and pained expression on his face.
Where the hell did that come from?
He doesn’t wait for me to argue, he just turns away and steps out of the river. The angry sloshing of the water is the only sound as I stare after him, watching the rivulets slide down his muscled back. Dripping past scars I hadn’t noticed until now. They lattice across his skin and nearly distract me from the roaring silence in my mind.
Silas doesn’t look back and see the way I shiver without the heat of him. With his back still turned to me he pulls on his clothes and slips into his shoes without a word.
With my heart in my stomach and a knot building in my throat I trudge out of the water behind him. The cold water wasn’t bothering me before, but now I feel like the warmth has been leached away, the chill burrowing down to my bones.
I drag my clothes back over my wet skin, the fabric fighting against me for every inch. I wrestle with my boots, struggling to tie the laces with my shaking fingers. Silas doesn’t offer to help me this time, he’s too preoccupied with idly kicking at the mud beneath his boots and avoiding my eyes.
The moment I stand, my boots tightly laced, he strides off into the woods, not even bothering to check and see if I’m behind him. I follow, leaving some space between us, hoping the breeze would pull away some of my eddying thoughts.
Did I do something wrong?
Was he uninterested before I kissed him?
Did he suddenly remember I’m a freak? Nothing more than a lab rat they need, rather than someone they actually want to have around them?
Did I just ruin this secret place for him?
As soon as one thought passes through my mind, another takes its place. I have no idea what doused that explosive force between us, to make his face twist up with frustration after the kiss.
The cold presses in at me, amplified by my wet shirt and pants sticking to my skin uncomfortably because of my still soaked undergarments.
We don’t talk for the entire walk back to the house, the heavy silence follows us through the trees and past the tangles of bushes. The once beautiful quiet in the air now feels tense, more oppressive. He’s walking slowly enough that I don’t have to work to keep up, but I wish he would walk faster, get us out of these woods before I really do fall apart.
When the house finally does come into view, I let out a sigh of relief. It’s loud enough that Silas stops walking and turns slowly to face me, his face so full of emotion and I can’t read it at all.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a near whisper. My voice is unsteady, and I hate the way it sounds. I don’t know what I’m sorry for, but guilt and shame choke me all the same.
Silas’ forehead creases with his surprise for barely a second before his expression becomes a scowl. Time stretches out between us and my heart pounds in my chest.
His mouth opens, he sucks in a breath, and snaps his mouth shut. I can only stare at him as he shakes his head. That shame galvanizes into something hotter, angrier.
I wasn’t the only one in that river. I wasn’t the only one swept away by that kiss. I know it. I felt the way he held me. I can still feel the brand he left on my lips.
I only give him a second, one second to say something, anything, before I start walking again. But he just watches as I stride past him and towards the house, the patches of gravel crunching beneath my feet with every step.
The house is empty when I stomp inside, shutting the door more firmly than necessary, but damn, does it feel good to hear it slam shut behind me. The door now serves as a physical barrier between Silas and me. My feet don’t stop, they take me up the stairs and into Tucker’s room where I immediately launch myself onto the bed.
I have too much energy right now, too much inside of me. My hands fist the sheets and I do what feels most natural: I scream.
I scream, and I scream, and I scream into the mattress, welcoming the sharp burning in my throat. Slowly the anger fades away and I’m left tired, lying face down on the bed, and wishing for the second time today that it would swallow me whole.
I release my grip on the sheets and flex my fingers. The joints ache from how tightly I held my fists. I drag the pad of my thumb across my fingers and find a thin layer of grime that suddenly feels like it’s covering my entire body.
I need a shower.
Something stills within me at the thought.
I want a shower, and I’m going to take a shower. Alone in this room, I’m making the decision. No instruction, no guidance, no supervision. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world, to clean yourself when you feel dirty.
My nose tickles with the threat of tears, and it’s strange to think that the sensation is coming from a place of peace, of joy.
I don’t let the tears form. Instead, I gather myself off the bed and step into the bathroom, feeling a lightness throughout my whole body.
The warmth of the shower causes my thoughts to drift back to the river and I cringe with a new wave of embarrassment.
Why did I kiss him?
Ever since I’ve been here, I feel like I’ve become some sort of monster, my body reacting to each of these men in a way I can only describe as a need for something. Closeness, maybe?
Whatever it’s for, that need sharpened into an undeniable point back in the river, cutting into me and making me act without thinking. Now who knows what it’ll do, maybe it’ll find a way to embarrass me with each of them. My stomach clenches tightly at the thought.
I don’t know them. I hardly know their names. Hell, they’ve essentially kidnapped me. They may have taken me out of a shitty situation, but I’ve been thrust into another one. They’re still going to use me for my curse, and that’s the only reason they took me.
They never would have pulled me out if I couldn’t help them.
I have to work with them, playing along and following their instruction until I can earn my way out. It’s bullshit, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the position I was in a week ago. I still have a shot to get out, to belong to the world in a way I never thought I could. That is what I want. Freedom. I want it so much more than I want to explore this need that continues to nag at me.
I don’t know what I need to do to get that freedom, I just know they need me to participate in whatever mission this is, and I know I’m going to do whatever it takes to earn my way out.
I step out of the shower, rinsed clean of dirt and any lingering shame. There are more important things right now, and it’s silly to worry about anything else. What is one surly man compared to an actual life somewhere?