“Go. Eat,” Lucian orders.
Lilith glances between them, confused.
“He gets really moody if he doesn’t eat,” I lie.
She gives me a tight little smile and nods.
I pay for our tickets, ignoring her protests. Up ahead, a cover band is playing Blink-182 on a big stage. Lilith drops my hand and starts dancing on the spot, her smile wide, the lights catching the green flecks in her eyes.
“Come on,” she laughs, bouncing in place.
I shove my hands in my pockets and watch her, soaking in the sight of her carefree joy, the rhythm of her heart kicking up as she moves.
“The code,” Lucian says quietly at my shoulder.
I shoot him a sideways glance. “I know the code,” I snap, hating it. “She’s with Morbius. I’m just looking out for her.”
Lucian smirks, amber eyes glinting with amusement. “Is that why you’re looking at her with longing? Why do you find any excuse to touch her? Why do you still wear the chain she got you?” He gestures toward my chest, to the chain tucked beneath my black T-shirt.
I glare at him. “She’s nothing more than a friend. I care for her, that’s all.”
Lucian shakes his head. “Dangerous game. Fuck her if you want; just keep that undead heart of yours out of it.” His warning comes out as a low growl.
Limp Bizkit’s “Nookie” kicks in. I nod my head to the beat. Lilith notices and dances her way back toward me.
“So this is your moves?” she says, mocking, gesturing at my stiff nodding.
I fold my arms across my chest. “You better believe it,” I say, fighting a smirk.
Her grin widens. “Wow, no wonder you’re single.”
“Low blow,” I reply, feigning hurt.
She throws her head back and laughs.
My chest aches. The want I have for her is becoming too much to bear.
“I’m sorry,” she giggles, jumping up to kiss my cheek.
I shift, and her mouth lands on mine instead.
My hands rise, cupping her face as I kiss her. For a second, I swear she leans into it. Then it’s gone. She jerks back, shock in her eyes.
“Silas,” she whispers. “I’m with your brother.”
My restraint snaps.
I move fast, taking her arm and guiding her toward a quieter corner.
“I know he’s an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve you,” I grind out.
She frowns. “How can you say that about your own brother?—”
I catch her chin in my hand, firm but careful, forcing her to meet my gaze. The music blurs into background noise.
“Because that’s what he is. And if you stay with him, he’s going to hurt you. Where is he right now? Where was he at Christmas? You’re better than that. You deserve better than him.”
She shoves my hand away and steps back. “He said you would do this.”
