Page 149 of The Oath We Give

THIRTY-SIX

HEX CODE

CORALINE

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Lilac!You’re going to be late!” I shout from the end of the hallway.

Hearing her attitude fueled footsteps stalking from her bedroom. I shake my head as she appears in front of me, jerking her bag up her shoulder.

"How do they expect us to learn anything this early in the fucking morning." She grumbles, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"It's your senior year, how are you not used to this by now? You need to start going to sleep earlier."

"Silas says being a night owl is a sign of intelligence." She mutters on a yawn, her blond hair tugged up in a messy bun. I smile at her, the two of them have been ganging up on me more and more lately.

I think it's because Silas is afraid of being the bad guy cause he knows Lilac's approval means a lot to me. So he basically spoils the fuck out of her.

"Your tennis bag is by the door, bagel with extra cream cheese is on the counter. Have a good day, Li." I lean forward, pecking a kiss to her cheek.

Before I pull away she tugs me into her body for a hug, making me huff out a laugh.

"I love you, Coraline. Thank you for being happy."

My heart aches, "Thank you for helping me find it."

I watch her walk towards the front door, slipping out the door and headed to school before going into my home studio.

The painting I'd just finished last night is sitting on the easel still drying and Silas is standing in front of it. Shirtless, in grey sweatpants.

The sweats hang from his hips. Giving me the perfect view of his body, taking in the curves of his muscles; the hollow of his hips and strength in his lower back.

His skin is sunlight brown, and whenever he flexes muscles ripple beneath the skin, dancing under his skin.

It should be a crime for him to look like this.

I creep inside behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek to his back. Breathing in the smell of his body wash.

I was never a big physical touch person until I met Silas and he showed me how to love it. Now, I feel like I can't be in the same room as him and not be touching him.

"What's this one called?" He asks, still staring at the oil painting in front of us.

One of my favorite things about him is how supportive he is of my art. Not just my work with Light and teaching, but my own art. He stays up with me for hours while I talk about concepts, giving me ideas, and always interested in the final product.

He makes me feel important, even when I don't feel that way myself.

"Curse breaker." I whisper.

The likeness of the man in painting to Silas is exact. Like he could step from the frame and mirror the man I have my arms curled around.

Silas died twice during surgery. He died and came back to life twice.

He'd died and came back to me, just to prove I wasn't cursed. I argue that it was him defying death that broken my wicked spell. Silas was willing to cross the grim reaper just to show me I was worth the return.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life returning the favor. Proving I was worth of a love like his.

"That what I am, hex?" He hums, turning around to face me, his hands cupping my face, "Your curse breaker?"

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