When I wake up, it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am. I squint, taking in the unfamiliar painted red wall opposite me.
And then my whole body flushes a deep, hot, matching scarlet as the memories flood in, the lingering ache between my legs a reminder of how it felt to have Silas moving between them.
Swallowing, I steel myself and glance over my shoulder. Searching, even as my stomach begins to twist itself into knots.
But the bed is empty. Morning sun blasts through the window, and I wonder absently how late I am to work as I stretch out, my fingers curling against the bedding as I shove down the lingering disappointment that he isn’t here.
We made no promises to each other, after all. Even if his hands were so gentle on me, even as his words invaded me, until I opened up for him without question.
But I have no regrets. I wanted Silas last night. I came here, and I took him.
Although it feels a little like he’s taken me.
Climbing out of his bed, I take a moment to tidy the bedding, drawing the ends of Silas’s shirt around me as I pad across the room, collecting my clothes and bundling them up into a ball before I slip out.
Thankfully, I don’t see anyone on the dash to my bedroom. One glance at the small clock next to my bed tells me exactly how late I am, as well as answering the question of where Silas is.
I wonder if he’ll tell Kit and Rafe over breakfast.
Swallowing, I rush through my morning routine, showering quickly and scraping my hair back into a tight bun before darting back out of my room.
Where I promptly collide with a hard, very male chest. I bounce off it, an oomph escaping my lungs as warm hands land on my arms.
“Morning.”
Silas watches me impassively as I stare up at him. He’s freshly showered, too, his hair styled, impossibly perfect in a deep blue suit and white shirt. My eyes drop to the small patch of skin showing at the top, where he’s left a button undone.
My lips were on that skin last night.
His hands softly squeeze the tops of my arms. “Anastasia.”
Right.
“Morning,” I rush out. My voice feels too high for the small space between us. “I’m just starting work. Sorry. I was… um. I was running late. Because – well, you know, but I didn’t set any alarms, so—,”
“Anastasia.”
He doesn’t sound particularly happy. Falling silent, I rock back on my heels, my eyes dropping to the floor. “Yes?”
I jerk when his fingers curl around mine. “Come and have some breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” I choke out. His hand tightens, and he turns, heading down the hall and very much towing me behind him as I stare at his back with my mouth flopping open.
“Breakfast,” he says firmly. “Come on.”
“Can I have my hand back?” I ask weakly.
“No.”
My mouth snaps shut at his grumpy tone. I’ve never really thought about it, but if I had, I’m pretty sure his current mood would not feature highly in my just-had-sex-for-the-first-time-and-now-he’s-taking-me-to-breakfast daydream.
So I glare at his back, but I still take a step closer to him as he pushes open the door to the dining room. Rafe and Kit are both there already, chatting quietly over their newspapers and steaming cups of coffee and they glance up, their eyes zeroing in on me.
And on my hand. Silas doesn’t let go of me as he tows me to the table. He stops, staring down at Rafe. “Shift over.”
My jaw sets as Rafe blinks, before he slides his plate down the table and moves, leaving a space between him and Silas’s empty seat that Silas pushes me down into. “Stay there.”
“Stop ordering me around,” I snap back at him. “Just because we had sex last night, you don’t get to act like a damn caveman, Silas.”
My words sink into the silence. Rafe and Kit freeze, before they turn their heads to look at Silas. A dull flush spreads across his cheekbones as he glances down at me.
“I hadn’t mentioned that yet,” he grits out.
Oh. I sink back into my chair, praying for the ground to swallow me up. The atmosphere in the room ratchets up as Silas grabs a plate and starts spooning food onto it from the trays in the center. My stomach growls at the smell, and he eyes me as he puts the plate down.
And then he puts something else down next to my plate. Something small, and white.
“What’s this?” I ask, picking the tablet up and turning it over in my hand.
But next to me, Rafe chokes. “Silas,” he snaps.
Kit leans forward silently and pours me a cup of coffee, but I can see his lip twitching.
Silas sighs as he sits down. “Birth control, Anastasia. Until we can get you an appointment.”
My eyes fly up from the small white tablet, my neck prickling with embarrassment. “And you had to give it to me now?”
“It’s better with food,” he says shortly. His eyes rise to meet mine, and they soften.
“I don’t plan to stop being inside you anytime soon,” he says quietly. My cheeks flush for an entirely different reason. “And since everyone in this room has a responsibility to keep you safe, I thought we should start as we mean to go on.”
Beside me, Rafe stops breathing. Kit’s hand pauses where he’s pouring milk into my cup, violet eyes flashing to mine.
Silas says it so easily. As though he assumes… I start to cough.
“I just had sex for the first fucking time,” I snap when I can catch my breath. Silas opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand, glaring at him. “I am not nearly experienced enough to deal with this conversation, Silas.”
Nor am I brave enough to look directly at the two men keeping very, very quiet as Silas and I face off.
He holds firm. “It’s better to be prepared. I won’t apologize for protecting you.”
I stare. “Protecting me? We’re not in the fucking middle ages!”
Although spare me from the thought of giving birth to a mini fucking dictator like the man in front of me. He’d probably pop out with a whip in one hand and a clipboard in the other.
Silas crosses his arms. “Take the damn tablet, Stasi.”
Mutinous, I pick it up and throw it into my mouth, chasing it down with a swig of coffee. “Happy now?”
Silas returns my glare with a smooth look, happy now he’s gotten his way. “Am I happy now that I can fuck you without worrying about your health? Absolutely.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter sarcastically. I pull the plate towards me, picking up my fork and digging into the eggs. At least there’s no bacon. “Demanding, overbearing ass.”
I thought there was supposed to be some sort of post-coital glow?
A fluffy, pink kind of happy haze?
And all I get is a birth control tablet handed to me over breakfast and a public discussion on the future of my sex life.
I feel fucking cheated.
When I glance back to Silas, he’s watching me. And he looks… guilty.
Sighing, I put my fork down, mentally resigning myself to the fact that this is probably not going to be a good day. “What is it, Silas?”
When he shifts in his seat instead of answering me, my eyes narrow and I cross my arms. “Go on. Hit me with it.”
He winces, takes a deep breath. And then—
“Ella and Crispin will be here for dinner this evening.”
The words take a moment to filter through the chaos in my head. My mouth opens, and then closes again. When I look around, all three of them are watching me, not even trying to pretend they’re not.
“Right.” My voice is wooden. “And what do you expect from me at this… dinner?”
Silence. It’s Kit who finally answers, his voice soft.
“They will expect to see that the sentence is being carried out,” he says quietly. Apologetically.
I nod slowly staring down at the table. As if I haven’t been doing exactly what they’ve told me to do, every single day since I got here.
“Stasi,” Silas says firmly. His dark blue gaze is locked on mine. “This is not to hurt you.”
I offer him a small smile, shoving down the hurt. “It’s fine. I understand.”
When I stand, all three of them follow suit, chairs scraping back.
“Are you… okay?” Rafe’s voice is low.
I want to tell him that I’d take Lazarus and his fucking slimy hands a hundred times over rather than have Ella here, poisoning this space. Ruining it in any way she can. Dripping her sweet, lying words into their ears until they fall for it. For her.
Everyone falls for her.
But this isn’t my house. It’s just another reminder. I don’t get a say.
So I nod at Rafe. “Fine. I have work to do. If you’ll excuse me.”
But Silas wraps his hand around my wrist as I move past him.
“One night,” he says. “They will come, and they will leave. This doesn’t change anything, Stasi.”
“So I’ll serve you at dinner,” I say softly. “And then… what? Serve you afterwards? Should I wait to be called, or should I wait in your bed until you’re ready, Silas?”
I knew that last night wouldn’t change anything. Knew that I would be back at work today and accepted it. But the thought of serving them, of serving my bitch of a stepsister at dinner, watching as she fawns over them and then Silas expecting me to be with him afterwards… I don’t think I can do that.
He flinches. “It’s not like that,” he says hoarsely.
I hold his gaze. “Isn’t it?”
And then I tug my hand from his, and he lets me go.
