Page 37 of Salem’s Rise

Definitely not a Blackhollow, judging by the way she’s hanging all over Silas. Probably not an Ashcroft either based on the lack of warmth between her and Rowan.

A Hawthorne, then?

Her gaze sweeps over my face, assessing. “Terrible business about your roommate. That must have been awful for you,” she says, smooth but emotionless. I can’t judge if she’s being sincere or not. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m managing,” I say. “But thank you for your concern.”

“Yes, you do seem to have recovered rather quickly. It’s good you haven’t let your roommate’s death interfere with your social life.” Her gaze drifts toward Rowan, making her meaning unmistakable. “Resiliency is an important quality to have in this town.”

Rowan straightens beside me. “Now, Georgina. Be nice to my new friend.”

“I’m always nice, Rowan,” she says, giving him a suggestive look. “You should know that.”

Silas’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly around the tray. Georgina notices. A slow, knowing smile forms on her face. “Well, Jacqueline,” she says, resting one perfectly manicured hand on Silas’s bicep as she starts to steer him away, “it was nice to meet you. I’m afraid we must get back to our friends, but I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

Silas lets himself be led a few steps before stopping suddenly and turning back. His jaw sets, his expression darkening as he fixes Rowan with a hard stare.

“I thought I told you to stop this nonsense,” he says to Rowan, jerking a finger in my direction. “This has consequences.”

“Yes, so you’ve said,” Rowan says, his expression never changing. “Everything does, I’m afraid.”

“And you never seem to care who pays them as long as it isn’t you,” Silas snaps.

The space between them narrows. I look from one to the other. “Uh—what are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” Rowan says.

“Your poor judgment,” Silas says at the same time. He looks at me, something almost sympathetic in his expression, and I think I hate that even more than the hostility I usually see there. “You really should learn to recognize danger when it stands beside you.”

My spine straightens. “Is this another one of your vague threats?”

“It’s advice.”

“I don’t remember asking you,” I say.

“No. You don’t have enough sense for that.” He studies me for a beat too long. “Remember, Mercer. A cat only gets so many lives. At the rate you’re spending yours, I’m afraid nine won’t be nearly enough.” He turns away, carrying the drinks Rowan paid for, which we’ve both been waiting on. Georgina follows, but not before giving me one last dismissive look.

I stare after him, anger flaring hot and immediate. I’ve never wanted to slap anyone in my entire life as much as I want to slap Silas Blackhollow.

“What was that about?” I ask Rowan.

“Just Silas being Silas. Being an asshole is something of a hobby for him.”

By the time we return to the booth after waiting for another round, Rowan has recovered enough to charm the table back into laughter. Within minutes, he’s telling the story of a freshman last year who spent an entire semester apologizing to a supposedly haunted portrait in Wintermere Hall because some upperclassmen convinced him it reported bad behavior directly to the dean. Micah is nearly crying. Even Jonah looks entertained.

I should be listening, but instead, my attention keeps drifting across the room to Silas.

“Stop staring,” Wren says low enough that no one else hears.

I drag my eyes back to her.

“I’m not staring. He’s a jerk.”

“Yes.” Wren grins. “But also, like, insanely hot.”

I sigh, annoyed with myself but slightly relieved. “Okay, that makes me feel better,” I say. “At least it’s not just me that needs her head examined.”

“Every straight woman in Salem’s Fall would give a kidney, maybe both, for a chance with Silas Blackhollow. It’s definitely not just you.” Wren’s expression turns serious. “But just because he’s beautiful, doesn’t mean he’s not a monster. Trust me, that’s a guy you want to stay away from.”