Page 72
Story: His Mark
By the time I reached his cabin, my pulse was still hammering, my face still heated as I eased the door open and slipped inside, kicked off my boots, and crawled under the blankets, forcing my body to relax. A few minutes passed before I heard the cabin door open again.
Silas.
I kept my breathing slow and steady, my back to him as I pretended to be asleep. The floor creaked beneath his weight, the sound of fabric rustling as he pulled off his clothes. A moment later, the mattress dipped and warmth enveloped me as he slid into bed. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close, his body heat seeping into my back. I held still, keeping my breathing even.
Hopefully he thought I was asleep.
Good.
If he wasn’t going to tell me the truth, if he was going to leave me behind like I was a child or some fragile thing that needed protection, then he didn’t need to know what I was planning. If he wasn’t going to take me with him, I’d just have to follow.
The thought settled in my mind like a stone in water, rippling outward and solidifying into something certain.
Silas firmed his hold on me, like his body knew what I was thinking even if his mind didn’t.
I ignored it, and eventually, finally, I let sleep pull me under.
* * *
I woke to the scent of coffee and something warm and delicious sizzling over a fire.
For a moment, I let myself stay wrapped in the blankets, my body still heavy with sleep, the morning light filtering softly through the window. The bed was warm, and the space beside me was empty, but still held the lingering heat of Silas’s body. I stretched, yawning, and turned onto my back just as I heard movement near the hearth.
Silas stood at the stove, his broad back facing me, moving with quiet efficiency as he flipped something in a cast-iron skillet. The smell of eggs, crispy bacon, and toasted bread filled the small cabin, and my stomach growled.
Silas must have heard it because he glanced over his shoulder, his golden eyes softening when they met mine.
“Morning, Wildcat.” His gravelly morning voice was sexy, though I was holding onto my indignation from the night before.
I grumbled something unintelligible and burrowed deeper into the blankets, trying to fight off the morning chill.
Silas smiled. “I made you breakfast.”
My brows furrowed. “Why are you being nice?”
His lips twitched as he grabbed a mug from the counter, filled it with steaming black coffee, and walked over to the bed. He crouched down, holding it out to me. “Because I can be nice sometimes. Now sit up and drink this before I change my mind.”
I huffed, but took the mug anyway, inhaling the rich, dark scent. The heat seeped through my fingers, warming me instantly.
I took a sip and groaned. “Okay, fine. You can be nice.”
Silas chuckled, standing again and returning to the stove. “Eat first, then you can shower. You’ve got time to sleep in a little while longer.”
I frowned, watching him carefully. He was too calm, too soft this morning. Silas wasn’t exactly unfeeling, but I didn’t think he was usually the kind of guy to bring me coffee in bed and make sure I got extra rest.
I knew what was happening; he was softening me up before he broke his news. Maybe he was feeling guilty over the fact that he was planning to leave me behind. Maybe that’s all this was…
Two could play at that game.
I set the mug on the bedside table, stretching again. “Okay, what is it?”
Silas hesitated for a second. His back straightened, his shoulders tensed, like he was bracing for something. He didn’t know that I already knew.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, setting my feet on the floor and walking to the table. “Silas…”
He sighed, flipping the eggs onto a plate. “You’re not coming with us.”
Even though I knew it was coming, the words still hit me like a slap to the face.
Table of Contents
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