Chapter 42 · Take it off

He turned our joined hands over.

The black line had crossed his wrist.

It ran across the space between our palms.

For one stupid second, I thought it was a smear of ink from the broken vial. Then the mark moved.

It slipped beneath his skin, reached the edge of his hand, and pressed against my glove.

"Take it off," Silas said.

"No."

"Mira."

"No."

"You need to see if it transferred."

"I can see enough."

"Then you're scared."

I shoved my shoulder into his chest.

His arm came around my back before I could get away. Not crushing. Not gentle, either. He held me against him while the room tilted around the sound of his breathing.

"Don't," I warned.

"You're going to cut me wrong if you can't keep your hands steady."

"I can keep my hands steady."

"Prove it."

"Move your arm."

"Not until you check."

"You don't get to trap me and call it treatment."

"You don't get to save me while pretending you don't care if I live."

The words hit harder than his grip.

I went still.

His chest vibrated against mine. A soft, broken hum. It ran through his shirt and into my ribs.