Petra’s worried gaze searched his expression. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because.” He rubbed his horn again and felt the slight ridges that marked his growth, as well as the tiny imperfection there at the base, hidden by his hair. “If I get out of control, if you get scared, you need to use it.”
He opened his eyes just in time to see a look of profound unease ripple across her face. “What are you saying, Silas?”
“There’s a sigil there on the back, the one in the center circle. It’s for me.”
“For you?”
He gestured to his head. “I branded it into my horn as a failsafe. If you ever— if something happened, I wanted you to have the option to take me out.”
At the time, he hadn’t been entirely sure why he’d done it, only that it felt right. Part of chasing Petra was about knowing she had all the power and chose to give it to him — it always had been. The concept that she’d had a kill switch at her disposal, that at any moment she could have taken him out, but she hadno ideathrilled him. It was another part of their game.
So he’d burned the sigil into his horn. What was the harm? If he regretted it, all he had to do was buff it out. Besides, he hadn’t even been sure he’d ever tell her what that sigil did. It was his exciting little secret, and if it remained only that, then that pleasure was perfectly acceptable.
“All you have to do is activate it,” he continued, chest tightening. “Just activate it and run.”
I’ll find you. I’ll always find you.
But he could give her time. He could give her the power to knock him on his ass if he lost his mind. He could give her the power of choice. Always.
Because she’d never really had that, and if he couldn’t give her the love and care she deserved from a good mate, then at least he could give her this.
Petra stared at him, her lips parted and her skin ashen. “Would itkillyou?”
He shook his head. “No. Just knock me out.”
“Why would you give me this? You’d never hurt me. There’s no need?—”
“I’d neverintentionallyhurt you,” he corrected, harsher than he intended. “But what if I fuck it up? What if the rut’s too much and I stop listening to you? Tal warned me that I might lose my mind, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to. I thought I could handle it and nothing would be different. Now, I— You can’t let me do that, Petra. You just fuckin’ can’t. I won’t let you.”
If I hurt you, I’d break.
The truth of that thought rang high and clear in his mind. He treasured her trust in him above all things — even himself. If he were to break that trust… Silas couldn’t claim to have spent a lot of time being self-critical, let alone considering the concept of guilt, but he could now see how it might destroy a man.
He’d once thought it might be enough just to have her. What did it matter if she hated or feared him? As long as she belonged to him, he’d be satisfied.
But he saw now how that would be like choosing to drink from a poisoned well for the rest of his life. He couldn’t live without her, so he would keep coming back, he’d keep sipping to quench his never-ending thirst, but it’d kill him eventually.
Silas didn’t want to die a slow, painful death in the shadows of her heart. He’d do anything to bask in her light. Heneededher love. He would never be satisfied with anything less than that.
And if that meant going through the agony of rut without his mate to protect her from harm? So be it.
“Silas, I…” Petra trailed off, her voice fading into the summer breeze and tittering birdsong. She didn’t say anything more for a long stretch, but when she did, her voice was firm. “I can defend myself.”
Holding her stare, he bluntly demanded, “Would you burn me alive?”
Petra held his stare for a long moment before cutting her gaze away, like she couldn’t take it anymore. Her lips trembled. “No,” she croaked.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
He was stuck in her orbit. It was all he could do to stand there for as long as he had, resisting her pull, but it was a fundamental law of the universe that eventually he’d give in.
Silas didn’t register the distance even as he crossed it. He didn’t feel the gravel under his boots or the warm air ruffling his curls. He didn’t hear the creak of the old, sun-baked porch under his weight as he climbed the steps.
He stooped to press his forehead against hers and watched her eyes flutter shut. Pressing his hand over her thundering heart, he demanded, “Why?”
