I don’t move from my spot on the couch, peering over the laptop screen to observe my HimLock guys in their natural habitat as I try to hunt digital information for Roo.
But I’m distracted when Jace and Kieran launch into motion. It’s not frantic, though it’s a level of focus I wasn’t expecting to see. There’s some kind of server alert, a risk they don’t want escalating. I don’t catch much more of what they’re saying.
Jace mutters something about being gone for an hour or two, like it’s a promise he intends to keep. Kieran presses a kiss to the top of my head, lingering just long enough to make my chest tighten. His touch is uninhibited, as if we’ve done this every day for years, and I struggle to keep the surprise from my expression.
Then the door closes.
And suddenly, the loft feels smaller, a lightning storm of tension streaking through the air.
Silas is still here.
He’s in the armchair near the window, one ankle balanced over his knee, phone in hand. He looks casual if you don’t know how to read him. If you don’t recognize the way his attention sits heavy in a room, like gravity deciding where it wants things to fall and in what order they should go.
I take a sip from the glass of water he gave me earlier and watch him over the rim.
He hasn’t said much all afternoon.
But when Silas looks at me, I feel it in places that haven’t softened in years.
“Are you reading me like code right now?” I ask quietly.
His eyes flick up, assessing me. “Would it scare you if I said yes?”
“No,” I reply, deflecting his sarcasm with honesty. “It’d turn me on.”
Silas doesn’t react right away. Seconds tick by before he sets his phone down with intentional slowness. He’s deciding something, the weight of his options sitting on his shoulders, lingering with a finality that says one of us won’t come back the same once he’s chosen.
“You like dangerous things,” he mentions, his full attention ensnaring me.
“I’m sitting in your living room,” I acknowledge, tilting my head. “After finding out my AI boyfriend app is actually three men with asurveillanceproblem. So yeah… A little.”
He leans forward, forearms braced on his knees. “But you trust us.”
Not a question.
I set the laptop aside, uncurling my leg from beneath me. “I haven’t decided if that’s smart… or just inevitable.”
“It seems like a solid choice,” he says, sarcasm back in his tone.
“Careful.” I smile faintly. “That almost sounded like surrender.”
There’s no amusement in his expression. He’s not playful either. The look he’s giving me is intense in a way that makes my pulse tick faster.
“You like pushing,” he remarks.
“I like clarity.”
“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You like control.”
The statement lands between us, more observational than accusatory…
I don’t deny it.
“I prefer knowing where I stand. It’s less about control and more about the clarity of intentions,” I explain. “And right now, I’m contemplating sharing myself with a man who didn’t blink when he told me he’d burn the world for me.”
Silas stands from his chair and treads closer to me. He’s back to those deliberate movements, neither fast nor slow, as if he’s thinking through every flex of his muscles before it happens. There’s so much mental effort behind such a simple task.
“Do you want me to blink?” he asks with the slightest bit of humor in his voice.
