Page 125 of Salem’s Rise
“Though I imagine your little magic trick controlling all four elements didn’t hurt,” he adds, eyes glinting with amusement. “Quite impressive.”
Apparently, wielding all four elements makes me something of an anomaly. I’m still learning how it all works. Magic is yet another closely guarded Veil secret. The elders don’t talk about it with younger members, not until they’re old enough for their abilities to begin surfacing. Some gifts appear on their own. Others don’t awaken until someone is pushed to their limits—and some members never manifest magic at all.
“Little trick?” I laugh. “Careful, Blackhollow. I can go all-powerful Fourth House on your ass anytime I want.”
“There’s my feisty girl.” He reaches over and brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch now is so familiar that I lean into it automatically, without thinking.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get a boon too.”
Silas is quiet for a moment. “But I did.”
I look up at him. “What? But I thought you just said—”
“You.” His eyes hold mine. “You were always what I wanted most.”
My heart does something embarrassingly stupid inside my chest.
“That’s disgustingly romantic, Blackhollow,” I say. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
He looks almost offended. “I pour my heart out and all I get is mockery. You’re the cruel one, Mercer.”
I smile. “I love you too.”
His palm settles lightly against my cheek, tilting my face up to him as his mouth finds mine with quiet confidence. The kiss is sweet at first but quickly deepens, his other hand curling around the back of my neck as he pulls me closer until there’s no space left between us. He shifts, guiding me back against the cushions, his weight settling over me in a way that pulls a small groan of need from somewhere low in his throat. I answer it with one of my own, my fingers curling into his soft hair.
His mouth starts a hot trail from my lips to the corner of my jaw, unhurried, like he has every intention of taking his time with me. Then a hand slides beneath the hem of my sweater, warm against my bare skin, fingers splaying low across my waist like he’s testing how much he can play with me before I break. One teasing stroke of his tongue against mine and heat pools low in my stomach.
My hips lift greedily toward him, and he chuckles at my eagerness, deep and warm and throaty. The movie plays on, some distant, meaningless hum we’re no longer paying the slightest attention to, drowned out by the sound of his breath going as ragged and unsteady as mine.
His hand drifts lower, fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of my pants—
“Enjoying the movie, I see?” a deep voice calls from the doorway.
I jerk away from Silas, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Silas’s parents—Damien and James—are standing in the hallway.
Damien Blackhollow is every bit as unfairly handsome as his son, his dark coat still dusted with snow from outside. Beside him stands his wife James, equally gorgeous, long bubblegum-pink scarf hanging loosely around her neck, blonde hair swept off her face with a matching pink headband.
“I’m going to pretend,” James says with perfect composure, “that I didn’t see any of that.”
Silas deadpans without missing a beat.
“Please do, Mother.”
James laughs first, and Damien follows. She crosses the room and, to Silas’s visible annoyance, ruffles his hair.
“Mother, please.”
“What, can’t I show affection to my baby boy?” she asks.
“Baby? I’ll be twenty-three next month.”
“You’ll always be my baby. I raised you,” she says. “I fed you.”
“Jottingsworth fed me,” Silas corrects.
“Silas, leave your poor mom alone.”
James grins, turning toward me. “We’re so glad our Silas found you, Jacqueline,” she says, and a pleased warmth rises to my cheeks. She glances affectionately at her husband. “You know, a Blackhollow man needs a strong woman.”
