Page 223 of The Sins of Silas

The scent of pine and citrus.

“Quill?”

His body stiffened, and he pulled away just enough to look at me, his eyes widened. “Lena…do you…are you r-remembering?”

“Yes…in p-pieces but…” I blinked over and over. “The pond, we first kissed in that pond.”

He grinned. “Yes. Y-yes, we did.”

It seemed this ward, whatever magic-altering barrier had been present, had eliminated the spell put on me. But why did I still have my magic?

“I’m so sorry, Silas,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes as my memories came flooding back to me. “The pain was just so strong.” I lifted my shaking hands, my purple fingertips brushing against his cheek. “But it’s worse…far worse, not remembering.”

His lips trembled, and he pulled me against him, pressing his lips against my forehead.

My breathing calmed in his embrace, at his scent that had always been so soothing. I didn’t know how long it was before our shuddering died down, how longit was until we finally began to warm each other and drift off to sleep.

Chapter Sixty-One

LENA

Iawoke facing the firelight, still in Silas’s embrace, the room still dark. Everything that had happened began to process slowly. When reality finally hit me, I quickly turned and checked to see if he was alive. Instead, I managed just to wake him.

“Are you alright?” I asked nervously, surveying his handsome face.

“Mhm…” He just smiled sleepily and ran his thumb along my lips. “Do you still remember me?” he asked quietly.

I nodded, heart pounding at how close our naked bodies were. “I do.”

His smile began to fall. “I'm so sorry for what I said that night, Lena. I didn't mean it.”

I shook my head. “Don't be, Silas. I understand.” I remembered his words on the balcony now, and I held no ill feelingstoward him at all. Changing the topic, I whispered, “We should switch.” I trailed my hand along his chest. “You should be by the fire.”

“You’ve warmed me up just fine,” he murmured, his fingers brushing my cheek.

I smiled bashfully, my eyes trailing to his chest. It took me a moment to realize he was completely shirtless in front of me.

“You are not to try and remove my shirt. You are not to touch my back skin to skin.”

Sensing my thoughts, Silas carefully sat up. I followed suit, holding both his hands and not caring that the sheet fell to my lap, exposing my bare breasts.

He clenched his jaw, and his breathing began to stagger. He nodded and glanced down, a silent permission to look at his back. At the place he kept hidden.

Slowly, I scooted behind him.

All this time, I wondered what tattoos would be inked, what tattoos held such meaning that he kept them secret.

But when I beheld his back, I choked on a sob.

There were no tattoos. Not a single one.

No…his back wasobliterated.Several raised gashes were present, leaving minimal skin unblemished. I gently traced my hand on his skin, the action causing him to flinch. The wounds had been so deep, and with how they had healed, it was clear he was continually beaten before the previous injuries had even healed.

He had been tortured. Whipped. Burned. Flayed.

“My Gods, Silas,” I breathed, my lip trembling. “Who did this to you?”

He was silent for a few moments before he responded quietly, “My father.”

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