Page 195 of The Dark Stranger
Silas's arms are wrapped around me like I'm something precious. Something fragile. Like if he letsgo, I'll disappear.
His chest is pressed against my back, rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. One arm is tucked under my head, the other draped across my waist, his hand splayed possessively over my stomach. His grip is firm. Protective. Almost desperate. Like he's afraid someone might steal me in the night.
I shift slightly, testing my body. Everything hurts. But it's a different kind of hurt than before. Dull. Manageable.
I can't tell if it's from the sex—God, the sex—or if I'm still healing from everything else. Probably both.
My thighs are sore. My hips ache. There's a pleasant burn deep inside me that makes my face flush just thinking about it. But beneath that, there's still the tenderness in my ribs. The bruises that haven't fully faded. The reminder that just days ago, I was tied to a chair in a warehouse waiting to be sold.
I'm getting stronger, though. I can feel it. My body is knitting itself back together. Slowly. Carefully.
I turn my head slightly, just enough to see Silas's face. His eyes are still closed. His jaw relaxed. He looks younger when he sleeps. Less guarded. Less like a man who's seen too much darkness.
I study the lines of his face. The sharp angle of his jaw. The way his dark hair falls across his forehead. The faint scar above his left eyebrow that I never noticed before.
He's beautiful.
Dangerous and beautiful.
And he's holding me like I'm the most important thing in the world.
I don't know how long I stare at him. Minutes, maybe. Long enough that when his eyes finally open, I'm caught.
His lips curve into a slow, lazy smirk.
"You're staring," he says, his voice rough with sleep.
I feel my face heat,but I don't look away.
"It's hard not to stare at the man who saved me," I say, trying to keep my voice light. Teasing. "The man who proved his heroism."
I laugh softly, but it comes out breathless.
Silas's expression shifts. The smirk fades. His eyes darken.
"I'm no hero, Bec's," he says quietly.
His hand tightens on my stomach.
"Just a man on a mission."
"And you just so happen to be a bigger part of that mission."
I frown. Turn in his arms so I'm facing him.
"Why?" I ask. My voice is smaller than I want it to be. "Why did you make me so important, Silas?"
"I'm a nobody."
"Just a girl who made it out of the city chasing a dream that's now become a nightmare that's chasing me."
Silas looks at me for a long moment. His hand comes up to cup my face. Thumb brushing across my cheekbone.
"Because you walked right into my life when I didn't know I needed you the most," he says. His voice is low. Steady. Like he's been holding onto these words for a long time.
"I connected with you during the conversation we had at the fundraiser."
"Something about you caught my mind and I haven't been able to shake it."
