Page 96 of Top Shelf

A spark. A flare. A quiet boy with a fire in his soul, setting me alight from the inside out.

With the knowledge that I’m not broken, that I’m wanted and safe, I happily go up in flames.

I kiss him back like I’ve never wanted anything more. Like I’ve been waiting for this exact feeling and never knew it until now.

When we finally part, my lips tingle, kiss-bruisedand hot. My chest rises and falls like I’ve just surfaced from underwater, lungs full for the first time.

Silas rests his forehead against mine again, breathing wrecked, and I see it there in his eyes. This time, I don’t need words to decipher what he’s saying.

His gaze says it all.

Ours.

25

WREN

The porch lightis already on when we reach the house, casting a golden warmth across the front lawn. Climbing the steps, the door is unlocked when Silas pushes it open before stepping aside to let me enter first.

Warmth hits me the moment I cross the threshold. The scent of garlic and something buttery fills the air, and a low bass hum of music plays from the kitchen. The last time I was here, I was coming undone—raw and unsteady, carrying the weight of years I could barely speak aloud.

Tonight, it’s different.

There’s the same coziness in the air, the same feeling of a chaotic house that is lived in, cherished, and enjoyed, with coats draped over the back of chairs, textbooks splayed open on the coffee table, and the TV playing on mute in the background. But instead of dread pressing against my ribs, a strange sense of ease unfurls in my chest. As though my body remembers this place not as somewhere I broke…but as somewhere I washealed.

“Took you two long enough,” Lucian remarks without looking up from his phone when we enter the kitchen. He’swearing gray joggers and a black T-shirt that fits just a little too well, sleeves stretched around his biceps.

I stop short, feeling my cheeks go hot before I can help it. I glance wide-eyed in Silas’s direction. Despite his quiet demeanor, his lips hitch in a slight smirk, and I swear there’s a swagger in his step that wasn’t there before. He merely leans in and brushes a kiss to my temple, his hand sliding down to rest on the small of my back for a beat before he moves past me to help Ronan plate up the food.

Of course, Lucian chooses that moment to look up. His eyes flick between Silas and me before they settle on mine. Something satisfied and predatory flashes in his eyes as a slow, knowing grin curls his lips.

My blush deepens.

“Hi,” I say lamely.

“Get lots ofstudyingdone?” he asks, a hint of a tease in his tone. Pushing back his chair, he stands and moves toward me. He watches me like a cat watches a mouse.

“Lots, actually.” I hold my chin high, refusing to be embarrassed.

He holds my gaze for a beat before his lips quirk in a smile. “Good.” In a lower voice, he adds, “When I finally get my mouth on you again, I won’t stop at your lips.”

And now I know my face is flaming red.

“You’re not jealous?” I ask curiously, watching his expression closely.

“Jealous? You bet your ass I am.” He glances in Silas’s direction. “But I also know he needs you as much as I do. They both do.”

“Have a seat,” Ronan calls, oblivious to the scorching heat burning a path through my body. “Dinner’s ready.”

“It smells delicious,” I say, voice not quite my own as I step around Lucian, careful to ensure I don’t brush against him. Idon’t trust myself not to self-combust if I do, or for him to be able to contain himself. I’d half-expect him to grab me and throw me down on the table and devour me right there and then in front of Ronan and Silas.

And in my current state, I’d be completely okay with that.

“Lucian, make yourself useful for once and grab cutlery,” Ronan chastises as he carries plates toward the table.

Lucian snorts. Snatching a nearby dish towel, he rolls it into a rope and cracks it through the air with a sharp snap that makes me jump. It hits Ronan square across the ass.

He lets out a yelp that’s too high-pitched to be anything but real. “Jesus, Lucian!” The plates in his hand nearly go flying, the pasta on them slopping dangerously.