Hunting for Silence (Storm and Silence 5)

In those warms eyes of hers, suddenly, a fire was lit. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of me and held me close. I did not object.

‘Neither do I.’

Adequate.

My arms slid around her and I stroked her hair, gently pulling her face against my chest. She cuddled into me, and I felt a tug deep in my chest.

At this point, I was 99% sure it was not heartburn. Not that I would ever waste the money on a doctor’s appointment to make sure.

If this is heartburn, I can live with it. I want to.

I kissed her again. And again. Apparently, I had managed to make her loose her reticence. When we broke apart again, I took her face in both hands and turned her so I could look straight into her eyes.

And what I saw in there made me want to punch something.

Pain.

Deep, terrible pain.

Under normal circumstances, I would simply eliminate the one who’d put it there. But in this case, that would probably be…inadvisable.

I felt a muscle in my cheek twitch.

‘How is she?’

The pain flared, and I knew that I’d guessed right.

‘Bad. Very bad. I’m not sure…I’m not sure she—’

I pressed a finger on her lips, cutting her off. ‘Sh. She will.’

‘How do you know?’

Because I’ll buy the underworld and evict her if she doesn’t!

However, a little voice at the back of my mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like my little siter, told me that might not be the entirely correct thing to say.

‘Because you won’t give up until she’s well again,’ I told her instead. ‘And neither will I.’ With a single finger, I gently stroked her cheek. ‘You look exhausted. How long is it since you’ve last slept?’

‘Says the man who did an experiment to see whether one can go without sleep altogether.’

I gave her a cool look. ‘It was a perfectly reasonable experiment.’

‘Then let’s just say I’m repeating it.’ She gave me that infernally impudent grin that should have infuriated me. Should have, but didn’t. ‘It’s always good to check the results of an experiment, right?’

My eyes narrowed infinitessimaly.

‘Are you familiar with the expression “working yourself into an early grave”, Miss Linton?’

‘Indeed I am, Sir. I feel its suitable use has been grossly exaggerated. Besides,’ she shrugged, looking entirely too vulnerable for a moment, ‘who’s there to help?’

I didn’t even think. I just soke.

‘Me.’

She stared at me, mouth open.

‘W-what?’