Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-Seven

Neither of them spoke. The air was too thick for speech, and there was little to talk about, anyway.

Silas drove with a proprietary hand on Petra’s thigh the entire ride back to the house. Touching her was the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of sanity. If he stopped, he worried he’d snap.

Despite the cool air blowing from the vents, sweat slid down the back of his neck in thin rivulets. His jaw ached from clenching it so hard. Every few seconds he’d stroke his palm up and down her supple thigh, too greedy to stop himself.

C’mon, he silently commanded himself. Don’t fuck this up. Just make it back to the den in one piece.

Fear gripped his throat and squeezed. It battled with raw lust scorching a path through his body and the overwhelming urge to claim her, wholly and completely.

He’d let her down once and nearly lost her because of it. His rut was an inevitability — and hopefully a pleasurable one — but he couldn’t allow it to hurt her. He couldn’t hurt her. Not by becoming distracted and steering the car into a ditch, and not by getting too caught up in the moment, either.

It was still too soon. His father said he needed to give her a week. Silas tried. He would have continued to try, if Petra didn’t make her wishes clear.

But he was tormented by the thought of causing her any harm. For as impulsive as he was, Silas didn’t just lose control. Even during his past ruts, he’d always maintained a clear head. It was something he’d partly attributed to being only half demon. He acted rationally, always in his best interest, and didn’t care who he hurt in the process. Now he understood that it wasn’t his nature or his genetics that had spared him the worst of the rut. It was missing her.

His hand shook on her thigh. Beneath his palm he felt the plushness of her flesh, the slight give of her muscle, and the brittle bar of her bone. She was so fragile. All it would take was one thoughtless move, a rough touch, and she’d shatter.

An electric jolt ran up his arm when Petra laid her hand over his. She didn’t turn to look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the sight of the house’s driveway when she simply informed him, “I trust you, Silas.”

You shouldn’t, he should’ve said. That’s stupid.

But he didn’t say that because in his heart he’d always be selfish and mean and desperate for her.

He’d take whatever she gave him, whether it was good for her or not, because he was too damn hungry for her to resist.

Parking in front of the familiar white-washed face of the house, Silas let out a long, shuddering breath. It took immense effort to remove his hand from her thigh, and if he’d dared to look at her, he was certain he wouldn’t have been able to do it.

Unfolding himself from the car felt wrong. His nerves were shot, each one vibrating with need, and his shadows writhed in and out of him, pulsing across his flesh in time with his accelerated heartbeat. For want of something to do, his shaking hand anxiously rubbed a horn.

The air was heavy with the scent of green things, dusty earth, and the peculiar note that summer sun imbued. Normally he liked it, but at that moment all he wanted to do was chase it away with the scent of his mate — Petra’s delicious blend of salt and arousal and incense.

“Demon? Aren’t you coming inside?”

His gaze darted to where Petra stood on the porch. She watched him from the shade, one elegant hand on the doorknob. Her expression was tender, like she knew.

“Your necklace,” he grated, stuck there by the car.

Her brows furrowed. She lifted a hand to touch the heavy gold charm that hung between her breasts. “What about it?”

“There’s more.” Gods, talking was so hard. Words fragmented on his tongue, and the shards scattered before he could reassemble them.

“More… what?”

He had to close his eyes, blocking out the sight of her, before he could force out, “Glamour. Protection. Location. I built them in.”

He needed to rework some of it, obviously, since the ward to keep people who meant her harm triggered both too late and not powerful enough. Vanderpoel should have never been able to aim the gun at her, let alone shoot. Clearly Silas had been too cautious with his sigilwork.

But that wasn’t the only protective ward he’d put into it — and the other one he knew for certain wouldn’t fail.

Petra’s worried gaze searched his expression. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because.” He rubbed his horn again and felt the slight ridges that marked his growth, as well as the tiny imperfection there at the base, hidden by his hair. “If I get out of control, if you get scared, you need to use it.”

He opened his eyes just in time to see a look of profound unease ripple across her face. “What are you saying, Silas?”

“There’s a sigil there on the back, the one in the center circle. It’s for me.”

“For you?”

He gestured to his head. “I branded it into my horn as a failsafe. If you ever— if something happened, I wanted you to have the option to take me out.”

At the time, he hadn’t been entirely sure why he’d done it, only that it felt right. Part of chasing Petra was about knowing she had all the power and chose to give it to him — it always had been. The concept that she’d had a kill switch at her disposal, that at any moment she could have taken him out, but she had no idea thrilled him. It was another part of their game.

So he’d burned the sigil into his horn. What was the harm? If he regretted it, all he had to do was buff it out. Besides, he hadn’t even been sure he’d ever tell her what that sigil did. It was his exciting little secret, and if it remained only that, then that pleasure was perfectly acceptable.

“All you have to do is activate it,” he continued, chest tightening. “Just activate it and run.”

I’ll find you. I’ll always find you.

But he could give her time. He could give her the power to knock him on his ass if he lost his mind. He could give her the power of choice. Always.

Because she’d never really had that, and if he couldn’t give her the love and care she deserved from a good mate, then at least he could give her this.

Petra stared at him, her lips parted and her skin ashen. “Would it kill you?”

He shook his head. “No. Just knock me out.”

“Why would you give me this? You’d never hurt me. There’s no need?—”

“I’d never intentionally hurt you,” he corrected, harsher than he intended. “But what if I fuck it up? What if the rut’s too much and I stop listening to you? Tal warned me that I might lose my mind, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to. I thought I could handle it and nothing would be different. Now, I— You can’t let me do that, Petra. You just fuckin’ can’t. I won’t let you.”

If I hurt you, I’d break.

The truth of that thought rang high and clear in his mind. He treasured her trust in him above all things — even himself. If he were to break that trust… Silas couldn’t claim to have spent a lot of time being self-critical, let alone considering the concept of guilt, but he could now see how it might destroy a man.

He’d once thought it might be enough just to have her. What did it matter if she hated or feared him? As long as she belonged to him, he’d be satisfied.

But he saw now how that would be like choosing to drink from a poisoned well for the rest of his life. He couldn’t live without her, so he would keep coming back, he’d keep sipping to quench his never-ending thirst, but it’d kill him eventually.

Silas didn’t want to die a slow, painful death in the shadows of her heart. He’d do anything to bask in her light. He needed her love. He would never be satisfied with anything less than that.

And if that meant going through the agony of rut without his mate to protect her from harm? So be it.

“Silas, I…” Petra trailed off, her voice fading into the summer breeze and tittering birdsong. She didn’t say anything more for a long stretch, but when she did, her voice was firm. “I can defend myself.”

Holding her stare, he bluntly demanded, “Would you burn me alive?”

Petra held his stare for a long moment before cutting her gaze away, like she couldn’t take it anymore. Her lips trembled. “No,” she croaked.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He was stuck in her orbit. It was all he could do to stand there for as long as he had, resisting her pull, but it was a fundamental law of the universe that eventually he’d give in.

Silas didn’t register the distance even as he crossed it. He didn’t feel the gravel under his boots or the warm air ruffling his curls. He didn’t hear the creak of the old, sun-baked porch under his weight as he climbed the steps.

He stooped to press his forehead against hers and watched her eyes flutter shut. Pressing his hand over her thundering heart, he demanded, “Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” she whispered. “I can’t hurt you, either.”

A harsh breath exploded out of him. Silas cupped the sides of her jaw. Nudging her forehead more firmly with his own, like he might be able to meld them together if he just pressed hard enough, he grated, “That’s why you’ve got to do it. I need to know that you’re safe — even from me. Especially from me.”

“I am safe with you,” she argued, softer, a little pained.

“Yes.” He smoothed his thumbs over the silken rises of her cheeks, savoring her. “And if that ever changes, you put me down.”

When she remained stubbornly silent, he whispered, “You have a piece of my soul wrapped around your throat and my whole rotten heart in your hand. You have no idea how vulnerable you’ve made me. Promise me, Petra. Promise me you won’t let me hurt you. Protect me from that.”

If he’d ever needed real proof that Petra Zaskodna was a good person, too good for him by far, this was it. She would never take advantage of the power he’d given her. She would never sell him out or give it to someone else. She was his, just as much as he was hers. She’d protect him — even from himself.

And that’s why he knew she’d say yes, even if she hated the idea as much as he would in her place.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding as much as their position would allow. “Okay.”

Silas closed his eyes. Relief lifted the weight of the worry that had plagued him, the certainty that everyone was right to believe he’d hurt his mate at the first opportunity.

Knowing she wouldn’t let that happen…

He could finally let go.