average human’s Reviews > Control My Night > Status Update

“Not yet,” she said. “You shocked us all. It sounds like you’ve had a brutal time of it.”
“Relatively speaking.”
“Did you leave anyone behind?” Eilinora asked as Katherine and Chloe joined us, each holding baskets of eggs. Chicken feathers clung to the damp hems of their jeans.
“I don’t want to talk about my father,” I said.
“Not him,” Eilinora said. “There was a sadness in your eyes when you mentioned the mage. Do you miss them?”
I looked between the three women, expecting judgment and finding none. An urge to change the topic to literally anything else bubbled, but my body had also become a knotted tapestry of regret and pain. I’d longed to discuss Silas with someone.
“It’s like I left half of myself back in Prague.”
Eilinora raised her eyebrows. “You Matched?”
The lurch inside had nothing to do with my coffee. “Do I want to know what that means?”
“There’s no fancy way for explaining a Matching,” Katherine said. “Most simply: we’re drawn to men most biologically suited to pass along our banshee gene.”
The light breeze ruffling the trees surrounding us could have knocked me over. “You’re saying how I feel about Silas is only, um, banshee hormones?” It explained my immediate, magnetic attraction. Why I’d felt like a piece of paper being torn in two when I’d left him. I mean, I’d assumed hormones had something to do with it. I was a young woman, and Silas was Silas. But I hadn’t realized it was … hormones. “It’s not real?”
“Bang on,” Chloe cackled. “Biology, baby.”
This made me want to cry more than ever. Was nothing under my control?
“Don’t listen to Chloe,” Eilinora said. “She’s a cynic.”
“After three failed Matchings I’d expect you to be more of one too, Ellie.”
“No, it’s been four, and yet I still don’t hate men as much as you do.”
“They have their uses, but you can’t be blaming me for also wanting the tender touch of a woman. Kathy gets it.” Chloe winked, grazing the shaved hair at the back of her head as she tugged two garden hoses across the ground. She handed one to me and gestured where she wanted me to aim. My guilty conscience drove my eagerness to comply. At least I could do something constructive while I spiraled.
“You’ve never Matched?” I asked my aunt, pointing the nozzle at a row of carrot sprouts.
“Oh, I felt the tug, but I’ve never swung that way,” Katherine said. “It’s a flawed system—”
“It’s not flawed,” Chloe cut in. “You don’t have to love a man to get impregnated by one. Think of a Matching like your personal homing missile to quality dick.”
I choked on my coffee, setting the cup aside.
Eilinora thumped my back. “Classy, Chlo.”
“Does he …” I cleared my throat. “Do they go through it too? The Matching?”
“Nope,” Chloe said, popping her lips around the p. Something within me loosened. It was bad enough Silas had given words of love without knowing about Gabriel; the idea I’d done anything to influence him against his will had been an icepick to my soul. “Would be grand if they did. Poor Ellie here has suffered unrequited situations since puberty.”
Eilinora sipped, pinky finger extended. “They never stick around, but at least they delivered heaven in their bedsheets.”
“Trading good sex for a broken heart is stupid. You have the worst taste in men,” Chloe retorted.
It hurt to swallow. “So what you’re all saying is I feel like this about Silas because of the Matching?”
“Yes,” Katherine answered. “And no. Only you can decide what you feel. The Matching isn’t love, and love isn’t everything. Love alone doesn’t sustain. Your mother loved your father dearly, but he made bad choices. In the end, he wouldn’t do better, and she had to leave him. You always have a choice, and love doesn’t abolish those choices just because it exists.”
I stared into the garden, lost for words, the steady stream of falling water and the shouts of training banshees filling the silence.
Chloe coughed. “Awkward. Keep up that intensity and Keanna’ll run from here screaming.”
“Speaking of screaming—if I did it now, would I kill you all?” I held my breath but relaxed when Chloe snorted.
Katherine shot her a sideways glance, saying, “Banshee immunity is a beneficial thing. We’d find it tough to wrangle newcomers otherwise.”
“Why am I different?”
“Why does someone have red hair, while another has brown skin? Genetics.”
“But if you’re all the same, then why—”
“We’re not all the same.” Katherine pointed between herself and Chloe. “When we both scream, it knocks people unconscious. Whereas Ellie here, well, her screams only immobilize—”
“Only immobilize? My screams disrupt neurons.”
My aunt winked at Eilinora, before turning to me. “You said you’d learned to control your wail. It took Shay years, and she lived here.”
A small flutter of pride rose, doused by shame. “I had to. They were using me to kill people.”
The three of them shared a look. Chloe rubbed her nose on the back of her hand, focusing way too hard on watering the parsnips. Eilinora gave my shoulder a squeeze. I appreciated that they didn’t ask questions. They seemed to sympathize with what I carried.
“The Sect devastated us many years ago, wiped out several of our bloodlines,” Eilinora said. “They murdered our eldest. Our mothers. Some of our sisters. We’ve had others come for us since. That’s exactly why we hide, why we train. It’s taken years to restore our numbers. Like you’ve experienced, in the wrong hands, we’re weapons. I hope you understand now why we prioritize caution.”
A cry ripped through the clearing from the depths of the trees. It hooked into my skin, impossible to ignore. Chloe and I shut the nozzles off, dropping the hoses to the ground.
“What was that?” I asked as Chloe and Eilinora took off, sprinting across the grass.
“Our clarion wail,” Katherine said. “Something’s wrong.”
The women around us pulled their gloves off and threw their tools down, swarming toward the banshees converging at the tree line. Aoife broke away.
“What happened?” Katherine demanded.
“Intruder,” Aoife gasped, her brown skin flushed. “Maspotem, we think. They have produced a shield, but—”
A mage? With a shield?
Silas.
I heard nothing else, my feet propelling me faster. He couldn’t be here. If he was, something had gone horribly wrong.
My heart whispered: please.
“Let us through!” Katherine barked. The crowd parted. I stopped, gaping at the woman before us. Banshees held her forearms. A stark, granite-colored collar sat around her neck, above one of Silas’s amulets.
“Zeina?” I breathed. Collar? Amulet? Had she been captured by Arwood somehow? Bruises coated her chin, and a gash had torn her bottom lip in two.
The banshees all turned, accusing glares finding their target—me.

93%

Minutes later, I caught a glimpse of a figure running parallel to us. I released a silent scream. A hand extended beside the tree trunk, a sapphire shield erupting around them.
Filtered light from overhead glinted off a silver signet ring.
“Silas?” I skidded to a stop.
The shield blinked out, and he emerged from behind the trees.
I thought I’d never see him again, and here he was, confidence clinging to him like the musty, smoke-filled air. His faded navy shirt stretched across his shoulders just like I remembered. Curly hair brushed his neck in a way that made me long to touch it. Ashen skin pulled taut over the planes of his face, the repeated use of the amulets taking their toll.
His eyes widened as he saw Isobelle beside me.
My hand fell from her wrist as she, too, gasped. “Silas? What are you doing here?”
I was stunned for a second, but of course Isobelle knew who Silas was.
He swallowed, chest rising and falling. “I can’t believe you found her.”
A garble rose, a combination of I’m sorry/here she is I didn’t forget my promise/I love you/please don’t hate me. It was so overwhelming I swallowed, clenching my fists tight.
My beast keened, pushing to close the distance between us, but I’d frozen, my heart lifting in elation and body tingling with awareness of him. Since learning of the Matching, I’d despaired that my emotions were not my own. Seeing him, I knew the truth—they were. My feelings for him the night we’d first met were a whisper to the intensity I experienced now. They’d blossomed under the most unlikely of circumstances, tempering the darkness, encouraging growth in all the ways that mattered. I loved him, regardless of what was to come.
Silas answered Isobelle’s question, unaware of the monumental shift I was experiencing. “Arwood sent me in with the team, hoping I’d draw you out.” They know, his gaze told me. They know about you and me, and I’m bait.
Tears surged, hot and violent, at his remote tone. I had to remind myself that this was Silas’s coping mechanism, removing all evidence of his emotions.
And it still hurt, so much.
“My father’s here,” I croaked, gesturing to the sounds of gunfire. “Can you lead us to Arwood?”
“You escaped for a reason, no point undoing it. I’ll take Isobelle back—”
“No,” I interrupted him. “I’m coming with you. I have to see this through.”
If I’d hoped for anything else from Silas, perhaps a look that told me, I don’t know, we were okay, or he was happy to see me—something—I was sorely disappointed. He spun on his heel, speaking into a radio and alerting Arwood he’d found us both.
We made it three steps when the tree beside us exploded, sending us sprawling into the dirt. Behind falling burnt leaves stood Johan, fire forming in his hands.

94%

Exhaustion and gratitude stunned me silent. I’d never been so relieved to see anyone.
Johan whistled, looking like all his Christmases had come at once. “Never seen a subicite in action before.”
Anika flashed him a sugary smile. “I’m the only one worth meeting. Wanna try that again, fuckboy?”
Johan’s response—something along the lines of buying her dinner and a new shirt—became a gurgle as a knife sank into the side of his neck. He stumbled, eyes widening in shock. Steadman emerged from behind him, kicking the lighter from his hand and pushing the knife in deeper. Johan fell to his knees.
Steadman pulled another knife from his waist as he faced Johan, blocking our view. A strangled gasp caught on another gurgle. Johan’s body thumped to the ground.
I dived for Silas. He trembled, breathing shallowly. I grabbed his arm and slung it around my neck, using my shoulder as leverage to get him standing. Anika shook her limbs as if throwing off the residue of the fire, before doing the same on his other side. Her black shirt had a massive hole in it, the edges crusty and warped, the skin underneath perfect.
“Just had to show off, didn’t you?” she said to Silas.
“Shut up,” Silas murmured, his olive complexion the palest I’d ever seen.
Steadman turned, his gaze settling beside me. “Issie.”
Isobelle gave a guttural sob and ran for Steadman. He tightened his arms around her, then moved her hair aside as if checking her for injuries. “I’ve been so worried about you, sweetie. Are you okay?”
Sweetie? Had the stoic Steadman just called someone ‘sweetie’?
I coughed to conceal a laugh as Isobelle made her assurances, beaming. “Keanna, this is James. He’s like an uncle to me.”
“We’ve met.”
She frowned at my tone, as if she couldn’t fathom that James Steadman, her ‘uncle,’ wasn’t a lovely person to everyone … after he’d slit a man’s throat.
The fire continued to grow. We traveled in the opposite direction, trying to get as much distance as possible away from the flames. Death sat under my nose, a reminder we weren’t safe yet.
“I’ve got legs,” Silas said as we supported him over a fallen log. “You don’t have to babysit me.”
“It’s our job, boo,” Anika cooed. “I’ll take payment in a hearty Sangiovese followed by an even heartier rubdown from an attractive blonde. Any gender will do.”
My spine straightened as a whoosh rang through the air. A throwing knife hit squarely in the eye of one of my father’s guards—I hadn’t even seen him approach—at the same time another knife embedded into the tree next to Steadman’s ear.
Eilinora stepped out from behind a trunk, her hair a contrasting mess of blood, leaves and dirt. A shallow cut marred one of her temples, but she otherwise stood strong, fingers skating over the knives strapped to her torso and thighs.
She assessed Steadman and his hold on Isobelle. “This man known to you, Is?”
Can I stab him?
“He works for my father, Ellie. He’s safe.”
Eilinora traipsed over to them, tugging the knife from the tree. She paused, trailing her gaze upwards from Steadman’s feet, her face inches from his.
“Appreciate you missing with that thing.” Was it just me, or had Steadman’s voice deepened?
“Appreciate you recognizing I missed on purpose,” Eilinora replied. Her eyebrow arched as she tucked the knife beside the bloody one he’d sheathed at his waist. “Here. Something to remember me by.”
A clarion wail ripped through the trees, disrupting … whatever that was.
“Arwood’s on the other side of the clearing,” Eilinora said to Isobelle, her eyes flitting to the blaze behind us. “North of the house. Y’all right to get her there? Quickly?”
We confirmed we could. Eilinora took off. Steadman and Isobelle led the way while I kept an eye out for my father’s team.
Every step with Silas felt like a journey across a minefield. I monitored his minute grimaces, waiting for him to fall unconscious. It physically hurt to see him so weak.
When he stumbled, my hand went to his waist for extra support. Our eyes met. For a moment, it didn’t matter we were surrounded by intruders in a burning forest. Wordlessly, I tried to tell him everything I couldn’t say. That I was sorry. That I loved him. That I’d continue to care for him, protect him, even if he couldn’t forgive me. Especially if he couldn’t. That I was thankful for this time with him, even if it would be the last time. Isobelle was back with Arwood, meaning Silas would be free, and that was all I cared about right now. I’d deal with my father later. Somehow.
I tried not to be disappointed when he only nodded in response. It was the equivalent to being left on ‘read’ after sending a long, emotional message. A spiral of self-pity loomed until he touched his lips against my hairline, pressing a kiss across my brow.
I sighed, electricity passing over my skin.
We’d almost reached the tree line when multiple gunshots punctuated the clearing. Ahead, Steadman staggered then dropped like a stone. My mouth went dry as Isobelle cried in dismay, falling to her knees beside him.
My father, gun in hand, headed straight for them.

96%

At my silence, my father tugged Isobelle’s hair cruelly, making her sob again. “She’ll stay with me until Arwood fulfills his promise, and then I’ll consider letting her go. You, however …” He sneered, gesturing to my collar. “Take that off her, you bastard. She’s not yours to shackle.”
To Arwood’s credit, he didn’t retaliate with ‘Pot, meet kettle.’ Instead, he fished the chain from beneath his shirt. I drew my hair to the side, exposing the back of the collar. Watched my father’s face light up as Arwood came closer, unarmed and unprotected, pushing the key into the lock.
“For what it’s worth,” Arwood murmured, his chest brushing my shoulder, “I’m truly sorry for taking you, Keanna. Forcing you. And …” He paused, swallowing. “Thank you for finding her. I’ll never forget it.”
I hadn’t expected an apology from Arwood. His words left me speechless.
It was because I was staring at my father that I noticed him give the tiniest of nods. It wasn’t the nod that clued me in, but the contentment on his face. It was the look he got in the boardroom when he’d secured an advantage.
My collar clicked open. Cool air rushed over my neck as my father’s team moved, a ring of black artillery closing around me and Arwood. One of the men broke ranks, aiming his gun at Arwood’s head.
“No!” I released a silent scream as the man pulled the trigger, sending half of the group falling backwards. The bullet veered into one of my father’s men; he collapsed onto the grass.
My father raised Isobelle to standing by her collar and pushed her toward us, shouting another order to his men. Arwood gave a strangled sound, embracing his daughter.
The team reformed a tight circle around the three of us.
Above their shoulders, my father locked eyes with me, shaking his head. Fury had blinded him to reason. To him, I’d chosen the wrong side, betrayed him, publicly disrespected him a final time. I didn’t want to believe it, but death rolled across my tongue.
My steady inhalation echoed in my ears as guns rose.
We were about to die.
Me. Arwood. Isobelle.
I spun, searching beyond the wall of black. Silas stood, mouth agape. Steadman had risen to his knees, blood streaming from his temple.
Fingers squeezed triggers, narrowing my threshold of choices to one horrific option.
A powerful, killing scream burst from me as bullets went flying. Silas’s protective shield appeared beside me, Arwood’s amulet glowing.
Death consumed my senses as my wail stole the lives of every circling guard without an amulet. Which was all of them—except my father.
Once the shield dropped, Steadman tossed his gun across the radius of fallen bodies. Arwood caught it single-handedly, taking aim.
The field fell silent, save for one final, foreboding gunshot.

97%

The woman gazed about the room as if admiring the speckled wooden decor. She glanced at Arwood and Steadman more than once. “I see.”
Intimidating presence? Subversive discourse? The way everyone in the room had frozen as if expecting a gavel to fall? This woman had to be from the Sect.
“Could only imagine how effective our defense would’ve been if we’d had your resources at our disposal,” Katherine added.
“It is regretful we were at capacity today.” The woman gave a casual shrug. “I wish you a swift recovery, and look forward to witnessing your continued efforts in maintaining your operations here.”
“I’ve got it sorted. You don’t need to be threatening me.”
Another mild smile. “And yet our trackers follow reports of a banshee causing chaos in Prague. Perhaps it’s not as sorted as you say.”
The sensation of free-falling overtook my body. I sucked in a breath, holding it, gripping the tabletop.
Arwood stood, eyes now dry and features neutral. “I assume you refer to the banshee under my employ?”
The Sect woman turned to him. “Their name?”
I didn’t dare move. Arwood had Isobelle. My father was dead. He had no reason to protect me—
“That’s none of your concern.”
Steadman was as unreadable as ever beside Eilinora. Neither he nor Arwood so much as glanced in my direction.
I released a careful breath.
“Is the banshee … present?” The Sect woman scanned the room again, observing everyone’s hair. A chill rushed down my spine as we locked eyes. I didn’t look away.
“The one you seek perished during the altercation,” Arwood said.
She observed the tear-streaked faces of my banshee sisters. “We do not tolerate the way you and the Camardo family conduct your affairs. You’d do well to remember that.”
Arwood’s dimple appeared, lips quirking above his proud chin. He crossed his arms like they were discussing a dip in the share market. “Your displeasure is noted. Vesha.”
Come and get me, his gaze challenged.
Neither Vesha, nor those accompanying her, moved.
A squirting of hand sanitizer broke the tense air. Anika wandered in, rubbing her palms together, then blinked, startled, at our company.
Incredulity crept across Vesha’s face. “You,” she said, drawing the word out. It reminded me of a shark circling prey. “How lovely to see you, looking well. Alive. Does your mother know you’re consorting with banshees these days?”
I gaped at Anika. Mother? In all our interactions, she’d made it seem like Lissandra was her only relative, that she’d been alone in the world before working for her.
Anika’s tongue poked the inside of her cheek as she shifted from foot to foot. “She doesn’t. Think you can keep a secret, Vesh?”
Vesha’s expression remained predatory. “This situation with your mother and father—”
“Step-father—”
“—was always so deliciously amusing. I will mind my tongue, but I can’t guarantee my team will.”
The color drained out of Anika’s cheeks.
Soon after, the Sect vehicles departed, replaced by Arwood’s. They took Katherine, Steadman, and the injured banshees being attended to in other rooms. Zeina and Aoife accompanied them.
Arwood paused at the threshold, giving me a final nod before exiting.
Eilinora stood beside me as they drove away, swiping at her tears as if annoyed they kept appearing. Chloe’s absence created a noticeable void. Most of the banshees gave me a wide berth; I couldn’t blame them for it. My fingers passed over my naked neck, reminding myself the collar was gone, what it had cost.
Minutes ticked past until Eilinora, who’d stared out the window unblinking, shook herself. “I’m going to bed for a bit. Are you right to cover?”
“I’ll be here.”
She paused at the base of the staircase. “Blue-eyes. What’s he like?”
“Steadman? It’s … complicated. And he’s taken.”
Eilinora sighed. “I had a feeling he was spoken for. There’s always a catch. I’m like a bull, running for red flags.”
“Don’t be fooled by his mellow behavior. The guy hit his head on a rock. He’s usually more onerous.”
“Fate is a fickle piece of shite,” she said. “I’m off to bed before I Match with another gorgeous criminal.”

98%

Silas was asleep in one of the upstairs bedrooms when I checked on him, his hair a riot against the white pillowcases. My heart swelled at the endearing way he gripped the blanket to his chin.
I sank beside him, leaning against the headboard. As if sensing my presence, he rolled, propping his head up on my thigh like a pillow and throwing his arm over my knees. My beast—and I—gave a sigh of contentment. His sleeping face looked misleadingly innocent, like he hadn’t had to make difficult decisions daily to keep his family safe.
When he woke, he’d no longer have to.
I brushed hair from his forehead, touching him while I could.
“Oh, stop it,” Anika whispered as she entered the room, pulling a sweater over her bra and wet, shower-soaked hair. “You’re too adorable.”
“Decided not to follow Arwood?”
She sat at the end of the bed, crossing a leg under her butt. “Been thinking I should go solo. Captain my own ship, as they say.”
“What’s the deal with Vesha? Is that why you’re leaving?”
Anika screwed up her nose. “The Sect finally tracked me down, so I gotta bounce. Prague was fun while it lasted.”
I didn’t buy her bravado. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ve been on the run for ages. Provided they don’t catch me, I’ll be peachy.” The heel of her boot bounced off the floor, shaking the bed. “I gotta apologize, Backhus. I fucked up.”
“You told Arwood I’d found Isobelle, didn’t you? You didn’t wait.”
“Guilty as charged.” The sarcasm in her voice dissolved as she bit her lip. “I jumped the gun. Things were falling apart. And then you called.”
“I would have been found eventually.” Today smacked of a certain inevitability I still had difficulty reconciling with. “This started long before Isobelle.”
Silas sniffed, rousing, gripping my thigh.
Anika winked. “That’s my cue.”
The door closed behind her as Silas murmured my name in a thick, husky whisper that tightened everything from the waist down. It was ridiculous how much he affected me.
“Where’s everyone?” he asked.
“It’s all over.”
Silas frowned as he dragged himself upright against the headboard, taking in the silence and otherwise-empty bedroom. “It’s really done? Arwood’s gone? My family’s free?”
“He’s gone. You’re free.”
His gaze caught his empty wrist. Tanned skin surrounded a pale strip where Arwood’s bracelet used to sit. Moisture sprang into his eyes as he inhaled jaggedly, concealing his face. His sigh of relief dispelled slowly.
The silence stretched. He’d soon be fully awake and alert, and no doubt remember my reason for being wary. “Would you like me to leave?”
He dropped his hands, frowning. “Why would I want that?”
The purple elephant had grown to exponential size. “Because I killed Gabriel.”
Silas watched me for a long time. I’d apologized, I’d shown I cared for him—but was it enough? It was unfair to hope that of him.
But I still hoped.
He cleared his throat. “Gabriel … Gabriel was done for, long before he met you.”
“What do you mean?”
Silas rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring at the sheets. “He was terminal. He didn’t know about the cancer until it was too late. It was even later when he told us. He’d hoped to keep Arwood away from me, but …” His voice wobbled as he cleared his throat again. “At least … at least we now know when. And how. I didn’t think I’d ever find out.”
‘You’re doing me a favor,’ Gabriel had said that day. I wanted to throw myself on the ground and scrub myself from head to toe, to go back to the plastic interrogation room and beg for forgiveness from him all over again.
Silas weaved his fingers through mine. “How … how was he?”
My response came out shaky. “He was so kind. He stuck up for me against Arwood. I—I think he even flirted with me a little bit?”
“I bet he did. Guy could never help himself.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.”
He squeezed my hand. “I’ve got good taste.”
Silas slowly closed the gap between us. His lips caressed mine. Careful. Sweet. Heat shot down my spine at the contact. In his kiss, he told me we were okay. In his fingers, brushing the hair from my face and passing across my bare neck, he told me I was forgiven.
The tears I’d been holding back fell. His palms smoothed them away.
“How can you forgive me when I can’t forgive myself?” I whispered, seeing Gabriel in my mind. I always would.
Silas rested his forehead against mine. “Because what happened that day wasn’t your fault. Because you don’t blame the victim, Keanna. You don’t ever blame the victim.”
My tears continued to fall for Gabriel, for Silas. For being prisoners. For being set free. For the crevasse in my heart my father had carved, for the emptiness I felt now. I floated like a kite with cut strings. He’d been my tether to this world. I had no idea how I’d adjust without him.
Silas held me close until my tears stopped coming. I breathed him in, my cheek against his warm shoulder.
Speaking of heat …
“Since when are you a ferox too?”
He smothered a grin. “Yeah. About that …”
“How is that even possible?”
“It’s rare, but it happens. I transcended with both. My father didn’t tell anyone, so I came to Arwood identifying as an avertat. Arwood missed my father’s abilities. I knew he’d do nothing but run me into the ground.”
And he didn’t have to worry about that any longer. I ran a finger up and down the swell of his bicep. “Your mother and sister will be so happy to see you. Arwood wanted me to tell you they’ve been moved to a hotel in Prague.”
“I’ll need to go to them soon.”
My hand stilled. I knew he’d have to leave. I just didn’t want him to.
“Will you come with me?” he asked.
Yes, my beast crooned. My fingers drifted to his lips. They parted underneath my touch, his breath tickling my skin. “I want to, but I can’t,” I said. “I have to set right what happened today, take responsibility for my part in it. Katherine needs me here.”
“For good?”
“For now, yes. Long term … I have no idea.”
Silas’s grip went to my waist, shifting me until I straddled him. My neck warmed at the familiar position, but in it I also found comfort. The scent of woodsmoke surrounded me as he buried his face into my hair. I wrapped my arms around him, nestling into the crook of his shoulder. For several minutes, we just held each other.
“I meant what I said that night,” Silas whispered in my ear. “Nothing’s changed in how I feel.”
I clutched him tighter, relief rushing through me. When I didn’t reply, Silas nudged me, his tone teasing.
“You can say it back. Any time now.”
Flush against him, there was nowhere else I wanted to be. There was no one else I wanted to be with.
I’d do anything for this man. The least I could do was be honest with him.
I smiled, my fingertips fluttering on his chest. “I love you, too.”