Page 29 of Wicked Salvation

I catch her cold eyes lingering on my ring again. Not admiring it, not curious—no, she’s studying it, like she’s trying to divine something from the ring on my fingers.

“Yes, he does,” I say.

My answer stirs something sharp in my stomach. I try to brush it off, but unease crawls up my spine even as I exit the dorm room and head to my class.

This is the life I chose.

Reminding myself of that does little.

I slip my phone out of my bag. I have no notifications—I haven’t heard from Silas since he proposed. I might be emotional but not stupid. Now that the storm clouds have cleared, I’ve pieced it together.

Lucian must have confronted him.

They must have had some sort of fight.

And that’s when Silas told Lucian that I had accepted his proposal.

The uneasiness grows.

Radio silence from Silas never bodes well.

So I’m shocked to see him standing at the steps of the Girls’ Dormitory. He’s holding an umbrella, one hand in the pocket ofhis tailored slacks, his bag slung over one shoulder. It’s drizzling lightly—I hadn’t even realized.

He notices me, and his face lights up.

Silas climbs the steps two at a time, using a hand to bring me closer to him beneath the umbrella. I’m wrapped in the warmth of his scent immediately, but up close I can see that my theory was right. There are old bruises on his face, and a split lip.

For a second, I relish in the fact that he knows what it feels like.

“What happened to your face?” I ask, mustering all the surprise I can.

Silas smiles. “Don’t worry about that, love.” We start descending the steps. “We haven’t seen each other in more than a day.” His eyes slide down to my hand and his smile gets brighter. “I think we have more important things to discuss than a few bruises.”

My heart stutters.

Is he being dismissive because I’ve worn his bruises before?

“Why didn’t you call?” The sharp edge of his question slices through the formality between us. The sound of the gentle rain on the umbrella punctuates the silence.

Ah, that’s the Silas I remember.

“I spent the day in bed,” I say simply.

He looks down at me, those ice blue eyes spearing me like a shard of ice. I feel the shift in his aura. “Why?”

A soft, innocent question.

But there’s a threat behind it.

“Because I felt like it.” I harden my gaze as much as I can.

He promised he would never put his hands on me again. That means I can express myself the way I would like—and after my heart-to-heart with Lucian, I realize how little I’ve told Silas about myself, how little I know about him.

“Still upset about Vivienne’s death?”

His gaze moves to somewhere ahead of us. His grip on my shoulders tightens uncomfortably.

“I’ll nevernotbe upset.”