“It’s the first gift I’ve ever received,” he says without looking up.
My heart splinters.
When he opens the box, a yellow smiley face pendant gleams up at him.
“It’s a joke,” I rush. “To make you smile more. I didn’t know it would be?—”
“It’s perfect.”
He slips it over his head immediately. The bright little face rests against his chest, defying his black T-shirt and moody exterior.
“Your biker friends might object,” I tease weakly.
“I don’t give a damn.”
He steps closer. The fire crackles behind us, but I barely feel its warmth. His eyes are darker now. Deeper. Endless.
“This,” he says softly, touching the pendant, “is something I will cherish for eternity.”
Eternity. The word shouldn’t sound the way it does coming from him.
“And you,” he adds, voice dropping to something almost feral. “I would also cherish for eternity.”
My breath catches.
A twig snaps in the trees. We both turn.
Morbius steps into the firelight.
“Making a move on my woman, brother?” he asks with a lazy grin. But his violet eyes are ice cold.
Silas doesn’t look at him.
“I just gave Silas his present,” I say quickly, rising onto my toes to press a light kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Silas.”
I hurry to Morbius and leap into his arms. He catches me effortlessly. His mouth crashes onto mine, possessive and consuming. His grip tightens just a fraction too much.
“Thank you for my present,” I whisper against his lips.
“Present?” he asks, glancing at his brother.
“The necklace,” Silas says evenly. “I gave it to her for you. As you said, you were going to be away.”
Morbius’s smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I wouldn’t miss spending time with my girl.”
The air thickens; heavy, volatile. The two brothers stare at each other like soldiers on opposite sides of a battlefield, only they can see.
Something ancient and dangerous hums beneath their silence.
I clear my throat. “I’ve got your gift.”
Morbius’s gaze drops to my mouth, hunger sparking. “Then give it to me, baby.”
My stomach flips.
When I glance back, Silas is gone. Just…gone. No footsteps. No retreating shadow. Only the faint scent of smoke and something metallic lingering in the air.
