Page 104 of Silk and Sirens

I almost laughed. “I need to know that if it goes wrong, and I lose, they’ll be safe.”

“Disappointing. I would’ve pegged you as more of an optimist.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips. “Sometimes life forces you to be a realist, no matter how much you want to be a romantic.”

“Are you giving up, Tempest?”

I let out a breath, pulling my wrist free so I could place the peas into the sink. Leaving him in my kitchen, I moved to my living room and wrapped my arms around myself. My knuckles ached, the skin beginning to purple, but I could flex them no problem.

Sometimes, when I walked away from these situations unharmed, broken but not beyond repair, it seemed like some kind of sick joke.

“Aeris?”

I blinked, unhappy to have phased out under a gaze as intense as his. “Look,” I said flatly, staring at the dark window instead of him, “your little pet is fine.” I turned just enough to see him leaning one arm against the doorframe, broad shoulders filling it completely. “You can go.”

He looked completely out of place in my home, all hard edges, stoic expressions, and quiet violence against my chaos of colours and clash of furnishings.

“Aeris …”

“God, what do you want, Caden?” My voice came out colder than I intended. The adrenaline had finally burned off, leaving something hollow and exhausted in its place. “Why are you here?”

“Because you were hurt.”

I barked out a laugh, sharp and empty. “You say it like you care.” My throat tightened painfully. “I’m the one who’s blackmailing you, remember? Who put you in the position to be assaulted.”

Caden straightened slightly, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity I couldn’t stand looking at for too long. “Aeris …”

“Do you know I’ve lost count of how many men I’ve fucked because Selene told me to?” I asked, the words spilling out ugly and fast, like I couldn’t control them. “I’ve lost count of how many I’ve killed too, and that’s not even including those on my list.”

I wanted to see disgust on his face, revulsion, anything close to what I felt whenever I looked at myself for too long in the mirror. Because then he wouldn’t look at me like that. Like he didn’t hate me.

“Your list?” he asked quietly, stepping closer as I pressed the heel of my hand against my sternum as though it might stop the ache spreading there. My pulse felt uneven, my lungs tight, panic clawing slowly up my throat like cold water filling my chest.

“Everyone who hurt me when I was fifteen.”

Something dangerous flickered across his face. His jaw tightened, a muscle feathering sharply beneath his skin. “How many are left?”

I had to swallow the panic, my fingers instinctively reaching for a blanket I’d draped over the sofa. I used the fabric to keep me in the present, something soft to hold onto as those vicious memories tried to pull me back under.

My voice, when it came, was so quiet I wasn’t sure he even heard it. “Just one.”

Caden stared at me for so long it started to feel unbearable, like he was seeing every broken piece of me I’d spent years trying to keep hidden.

Then he moved. One second there was distance between us, and the next his hand was around the back of my neck, firm and warm, pulling me towards him until my cheek pressed against the heavy beat of his heart.

He just … held me. Like I was fragile. Like I mattered. For once there was no panic, no need to shove him away, so I sank into that comfort like he were a lifeboat.

“You don’t get to do this,” I said after a moment, pulling back to look at him. “You don’t get to come here and hold me after everything.”

“You think surviving makes you unworthy?” he asked, voice rough.

“You don’t know what I am,” I whispered. “The half of the things I’ve done.”

“No,” he said, stepping impossibly closer until there was nowhere left for me to retreat. “I know exactly what you are.”

My heart slammed hard against my ribs. “And what’s that?”

His thumb brushed lightly beneath my jaw, the touch so unexpectedly gentle it nearly undid me. “Mine.”