“Then you’ll have to watch me die with the rest of them,”I muttered bitterly, sitting back on the edge of the bed.
His jaw ticked, and we just studied each other. The scar on his cheek was more pronounced when he frowned. I wondered who gave it to him. Was it during training? In battle? Was it from a Mage defending themselves?
And the tattoos covering his skin…seemingly all of it, save for his face, paired with his tanned complexion, made those golden eyes appear even brighter. More beautiful.
My heart leaped in my chest, and I was the first to look away, crossing my arms as I did so.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him retreat into the bathroom. Moments later, he came back with a rag and bowl of water. I gave him a frown.
“Let me clean your face.”
I scowled at him. “I don’t need your help.”
He disregarded me and sat beside me anyway. He cocked a brow, and I sighed in defeat, angling my body to face him on the bed.
He dipped the rag in, squeezed it, and gently patted it under my nose.
“I think your nose is broken,” he mumbled. “Will that take long to be healed?”
I winced at the pain. “Hopefully not.”
He dipped the rag back in the bowl, red now swirling in the water, before squeezing it again and dabbing it around my lips.
“You still have my mother’s necklace,” he murmured.
I met his amber eyes once more, and he submerged the rag again. “I have worn it every day,” I said quietly. “Do you want it back?”
He contemplated my question. “No,” he said softly.
His hand grasped my jaw, tilting my head away so he could run the rag along my neck. I tried to ignore how his touch made me feel.
“You have your ring still, too.”
I flushed and looked at the sapphire ring still on my right ring finger. “I’ve never taken it off.”
His voice was just above a whisper when he replied, “Neither have I.”
My eyes widened as I shot them towards his right hand, where a single silver band wrapped around his ring finger sat. The ring I gave him. I looked into his eyes, and he drifted his gaze away, standing up to dump the water out.
I watched as he carried the empty bowl and rag with him, making his way to the door to exit the room. “Try and get some rest.”
“Silas?”
He was just before the door when he turned to me.
I didn’t wish to say it. But I did anyway. “Thank you…for saving me.”
He tensed. “I could say the same thing to you.”
Then he left.
After Silas was gone, I cuddled up in his bed, which happened to be the softest mattress I had ever laid on.
Well, that wasn't true. His one at the castle was softer. But this was a very close second, and after how many days of unsavory sleeping conditions, I savored the feeling. Hated that I savored the scent of him that lingered.
I drifted to sleep, and when I awoke, sunlight was spilling into the room from the large stained-glass window at the back of the room, rainbow colors painting the space beautifully. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and while taking in my surroundings, I realized Silas was sleeping at the desk beside me, his head lying uncomfortably on the wooden top.
He looked so peaceful when he slept; the hard lines of his face now softened. Despite his now rugged, dangerous look and the tattoos covering his neck and arms, he looked as sweet as ever while in sandland.
