“Silas Augustus Cuttcombe,language,”his mother chided.
That was so singularly absurd that Petra actually choked on her laughter. Some of the tension broke.
Silas eventually eased his grip on her leg, but only after she managed to get a few bites of chili down. Conversation wasn’t exactly smooth, but it wasn’t horrible, either. Silas’s parents seemed to be making a huge effort to be both welcoming and also not too pushy with her, which she appreciated, since she still felt like she was walking through some bizarre, upside down reality.
Silas was mostly quiet, his focus split between the meal and the occasional possessive touches he gave her beneath the table. Watching him eat spoonfuls of homemade chili while his mother peppered him with updates on a laundry list of cousins was a bit like seeing a tiger pretending to be a house cat. There he was, an apex predator, content to sit at the table and pretend like he cared that Janie had another baby while he was away, isn’t that nice, and your Papaw will want a visit soon, so don’t you forget.
Petra thought they asked polite questions about her, too, but her head was too full to really remember them after the fact. It was muscle memory at this point, anyway, the stories she told when people asked her about her family, her career.
“My parents passed away when I was young.”How young? She never said. Most people were too uncomfortable to ask for details.
“I joined the Temple when I was a teenager.”Everyone assumed she must have joined immediately after the death of her parents.
“Yes, being High Priestess is stressful, but there are good parts, too.”Platitudes usually followed that one, with plenty ofoh I can only imagine’s andI could never’s.
Though she couldn’t really recall the specifics of what they asked, Petra did feel like they were dancing around something. Several times one or both of them would begin to say something, but stop themselves or be cut off by Silas. Petra couldn’t quite connect the threads, but assumed whatever it was had to do with the fact that they probably knew she was involved in something unsavory. They might’ve known she’d killed a man, depending on what Silas had shared.
Even if they didn’t, it was odd that they never brought upwhyshe’d been shot, or why Silas brought her to them for healing rather than to a clinic.
Her suspicions were roused when, after his parents finished their bowls, they stood up and began to clean, their body language speaking of some increasing urgency to leave.
“I made you a big pot of chili,” Connie said, speaking softly to Silas as he joined her at the sink. “And there’s heaps of meals in there for you both. Half the clan dropped things off, since you haven’t had time to stock up for— Anyway, you should be all set for a few weeks. If you need anything at all, give me a call and I’ll have your Dad drop it off at the door so you aren’t disturbed. The rest of the clan knows not to come ’round.”
Petra glanced at the silver pot on the cooker and did a double take. It washuge.
Just how long did they think she was going to stay?Does it even matter?Silas could keep her prisoner and it wouldn’t make a difference. She was a fugitive. It wasn’t like she had anywhere safe to go, anyway.
Petra rubbed her eyes. Her head felt heavy, too crammed with every question and unknown for her neck to support it anymore.
Connie paused. Then, in a tone Petra couldn’t pin down, she asked, “Is Tal around, honey?”
Silas took a scrub brush to his bowl. “He knows to stay away for a while.”
A thread of feeling Petra could actually identify entered Connie’s voice:nervousness.“Oh, good. Of course. Of course he knows.”
Tal?Petra’s head really did begin to pound then.Too much. There’s just too much.She barely knew where she was, she had no idea what she was going to do, and now nothing about Silas or what she assumed of his life made a damn lick of sense.
She wanted to hide somewhere for a while, some place cool and dark and quiet, and curl up into a tight little ball until the world stopped spinning.
A gentle hand touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Petra forced her head back up and summoned a smile. “Still recovering, I think. I probably didn’t sleep as much as I should have.”
Scott’s lips thinned. He shot a quick look at his son and mate speaking quietly as they packed up the leftover chili, the lines on his freckled brow deepening. Holding out his hand, he asked, “Can I take a quick look?”
She wasn’t sure why she hesitated to put her hand in his. Scott was a healer and he’d almost certainly saved her life. There was no harm in letting him check her over. And yet something drew her eyes to Silas.
He’d stopped what he was doing and peered over his shoulder. Their eyes met. For a split second, she wondered if she’d sought him out because she worried he’d attack another man for touching her, but dismissed the thought as soon as it manifested.
When he gave her a small, encouraging nod, Petra realized she’d been looking to him for reassurance.
He’s safe,Silas seemed to tell her.I’m here.
A tight ball of fear unwound in her chest, allowing her to once more reach out for Scott. A handshake was one thing, but the idea of letting a man weave his magicinsideher made her skin crawl. The memories of what Antonin wanted to do to her, how he’d planned to force her into compliance, made her heart beat erratically.
But Scott was not Antonin. His magic wasn’t searing. His expression was kind and patient. When he used his abilities, a warm rush swept through her. It was a bit like walking into a cozy house after a long day out in the cold.
His inspection only lasted a minute, at most, and when he pulled away, Scott gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re healing up great.”
