Page 80 of When the Woods Go Silent

“Kier and Killian. Irish?”

“More or less. We have a muddled family tree. Ronan and Brigance are my other brothers.” He hesitates as though he has more to say, but stays silent.

“So, what kind of flowers were those?” I ask, to fill the quiet. “I don’t even remember if I thanked-”

“What do you remember from last night?” he asks, the words spilling out quickly enough that I realize that this question must be the real reason why he asked me here.

“What happened, Kier?” I set down my plate again and lock eyes with him. “Why are you so worried about last night?”

He waits, and I can almost sense his warring thoughts. There’s something he wants to tell me, but something else is stopping him. Then he reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a crushed rose, the petals bruised and bent.

I stare at the ruined flower, my mind spinning as I suddenly rememberexactlywhat happened last night.

Or, at least, what seemed to happen, against all logical or rational thought.

I scoot backward on the blanket, halfway to standing before he reaches for my hand. “Don’t be afraid, Rose. I’ll tell you everything, but you have to listen.”

And my world cracks wide open as he turns my palm to the sky, holding it between his hands as a miniature tree forms there, an evergreen with tiny red roses - impossible in so, so many ways. My skin tingles as the bonsai twists and grows andthe minuscule buds unfurl, and my heart sings even though my mind is screaming.

My lips pop open, and nothing comes out as I try to remember how to breathe properly.

Kier ducks his face down to look into my eyes. “It’s magic, Rose. Magic is real.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

RUBY

“You’re here awfully early,” I finally say to Torrence as I toss the handful of bloodied napkins in the trash.

Torrence has apologized several times and sat quietly while I got him all fixed up, but he still hasn’t said why he was fist-fighting on our porch before nine in the morning.

Still, a smile breaks over my face as he tugs me into his lap, my legs going to either side of his waist. My mind fills with the memories of last night when I straddled him like this. I lift my chin, anticipating a kiss.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers, and then his eyes go wide and his face flushes adorably, like he can’t believe he just said those words out loud. My chest tightens. Somehow, I don’t think this is a game he’s played before, and it thrills me to think he’s breaking his own rules for me.

“Are you going to try and stalk a serial killer?” I tease, as his lips fall to the hollow of my throat. My head tips back and I feel the need rising in my body like the tide as he sucks gently at my skin. By the Goddess, I want this man. I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone else, as though I’m barely in control of my own body anymore.

“I’ve always been drawn to darkness,” he murmurs against my throat. I weave my fingers through his silky hair, tugging atthe gold-streaked waves as his hands wrap my waist, pressing every bit of me flush against the heat of his body.

“You think I’m made of darkness?” I whisper, half-drunk on the building fire between us.

“I think you crave it because you are,” he answers, and there’s a truth in his words that I’ve rarely admitted to myself. I play at the bubbly book lover on social media, but deep down, I know a lot of that is just masking my true self to fit in. I’m drawn to darkness, too, and maybe that’s why I crave him.

Torrence kisses the soft skin just below my ear, and my head tips to the side, my body wanting so much more. I could invite him upstairs right now, I realize.

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