“Why did you hate the table?”
“Because you were too far away.” He snagged a bag of chips and tore it open. “And you weren’t eating anything. I thought maybe this would be better for both of us.”
He offered her the bag. When she continued to stare at him with those wide eyes, he shook it a little, tempting her with greasy, salty potatoes. “Go on. You need to eat, baby.”
Her lips trembled. “You’re… you’re not mad at me?”
“Not anymore.” Silas frowned. He glanced at the bag in his hand. “D’you not want chips?”
He nearly dropped the bag when Petra flung herself at him. Her arms coiled around his neck as she half-crawled, half-leapt into his lap. “What is this?” he demanded, reflexively wrapping an arm around her waist. “What’s happening?”
She pressed her face into his hair and clung as tight as a barnacle to him. “I’m really sorry. I’m really, really sorry I lied to you.”
“Sorry?” It took him a second to figure out what she was talking about, let alone process the fact that she was apologizing. Tohim.He wasn’t sure anyone had ever done that before. Not for anything that mattered, anyway.
Silas set the chips aside as he tried to arch his neck to get a look at her face. It wasn’t easy when she was stuck to him like that. Not that he was complaining. Having her skin to skin again after so many hours apart was paradise.
Still, he wanted to look into her face when he asked, “You think I was pissed because youlied?”
Petra nodded. Despite his best efforts, her face remained hidden.
Silas gave up trying to catch her gaze. Instead, he leaned forward a bit until he was stooped over her, his arms looped around her back. This way it felt a bit like he was hiding her, gathering her close enough that she might be able to just burrow inside him, where he could keep her to himself forever.
Shadows crept around her legs, holding her in all the places his arms couldn’t, when he explained, “Baby, I don’t give a fuck that you played me. If you didn’t trysomething,I would’ve been disappointed, frankly. What pissed me off was the fact that you didn’t seem to care that you could have died. That’s not fuckin’ allowed.”
“I cared,” she whispered into his skin. “It just… it just seemed like the trade I was going to have to make. And it’s not like I had anything to lose.”
Pissed all over again, he snapped, “Fuck that! You’re the High Priestess of San Francisco. You’re PetramotherfuckingZaskodna. What do youmeanyou don’t have anything to lose?”
She seemed awfully small and breakable in his arms. He loved and hated that. Having her vulnerability in his hands was a heady, powerful thing, but seeing herdiminishedwas sour. Ugly.
He’d experienced her small and soft before, but not like this. He wanted that other version back. He wanted the Petra who could be vulnerable with him but still fearless, confident, and powerful even when she submitted to him.
“I’m a fraud, Silas,” she answered. “I lied to become High Priestess. I’m nothing and no one. My entire family is dead. I don’t have a coven. I’m just an orphan from the streets of Los Angeles playing dress-up and hoping I don’t get caught. And now— now I’m even less than that.”
“So?”
“So?” Petra finally pulled back enough to give him an incredulous look. That was better than tears. He loathed her tears.
“So what?” he repeated impatiently. “So you’re no one. I’m no one. So you lied. I lie every day. So your family is dead and you don’t have a coven to back you up. Take my clan. I’ve got more than enough family to spare.” Silas skimmed her cheek with his lips until he found her ear. “You’re a survivor. You’re San Francisco’s High Priestess. You got justice for someone you loved. You’re ruthless and intelligent and ballsy. Best of all, you’remine.”
Petra tilted her head, putting them cheek to cheek. Her chest brushed his when she breathed deeply. “How is it that you can make me feel so powerful, demon?”
“Because I’m the only person lucky enough to see all of you,” he replied. “That means I can tell you how it really is, even when you might not want me to. You can’t hide from me.”
He could feel the curve of her smile. “Are you sure you don’t just enjoy giving me shit?”
“Can’t it be both?”
Petra’s arms uncoiled from around his neck. Before he could inform her that he had no intention of letting her go, she cupped his cheeks and pressed a series of soft, whispery kisses to his lips. His chest went tight with each one, making it hard to breathe.
Maybe he was dying. It felt like it. Not that he cared.
“Youarea little shit,” she murmured, “you’re definitely a bad person, and I’m pretty sure you’re crazy, but I think I adore you, Silas. I really do.”
The tightness made it difficult to speak, but he managed to inform her, “I’m going to make you happy. Then you’ll like me even more and never want to leave.”
“You keep saying that.” She snagged one of his hands and, after a brief struggle to unlock his arm from its place around her waist, brought it up to her heart. Petra gave him such a look that Silas went from “maybe I’m dying”to “maybe I’ve already died”in a heartbeat.
