And then I see it.
The inside is filled with crystals. Hundreds of them, glittering and sparkling in the light. Pinks and purples and silvers, crammed into the hollow center of this ugly grey rock. Tiny, perfect, beautiful things hidden inside something that looked like nothing from the outside.
I stare at it. My lips part, but nothing comes out. Then the most honest smile I’ve felt in years breaks across my face.
“I knew it,” I whisper. “I fucking knew rocks were pretty on the inside.”
Silas’s mouth curves. A real smile this time. And my insides liquefy.
Shit.
I look at the crystals again so I don’t have to look at him.
The cabin door opens, and the other three file in. They stop when they see us standing at the table, me holding half a geode with tears on my face and Silas with the hammer still in his hand.
They look at me. They look at him. Nobody says anything for a second.
“Speaking of pretty on the outside, rotten on the inside,” I say, jabbing a finger in Darius’s direction. “Unlike rocks. Rocks won’t chain you to the fucking wall.”
Darius’s jaw tightens. Good. He should feel that one.
I turn to Silas. “Hey. Can you show me where you found this?”
He nods, already moving toward the door.
Darius’s voice cuts in. “Absolutely not. You’re not taking her into the woods. She’ll run.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Captain Kidnap. I won’t bolt. Not if there’s mashed potatoes tonight. You promised to make some yesterday.” I pause, narrowing my eyes. “And Diet Coke. Last time you forgot the Diet Coke, asshole.”
Darius glowers.
Silas doesn’t wait for permission. He’s already heading out the door, and I’m right behind him. I hear Darius bark something about keeping eyes on me at all times, but the door shuts behind us, and then it’s just me and Silas and the forest.
The woods close around us, and I properly breathe for the first time in days. The scent of pine and earth fills my lungs, and my wolf settles into a low, contented hum.
Silas walks beside me, unhurried. And, I can’t shut up.
I don’t know if it’s the fresh air, the relief of being back outside in the forest, or the fact that Silas doesn’t talk. Words just pour out of me. About the woods. About the rocks. About how different the trees are up here compared to where I used to camp.
“Look at this one!” I kneel beside a moss-covered stone, running my palm over its surface. “It’s like a tiny, fuzzy planet.”
Silas crouches beside me. He picks up a rock of his own and holds it up, jagged and misshapen, dark grey with a vein of white running through it.
I snort. “You seriously think that’s a keeper?”
I take it from him and turn it over. “Looks like a turd.”
A low rumble rolls out of his chest. Deep and warm and unexpected, and my omega bits get all warm and tingly.
I cover it up with more talking. “So you like rocks, too, huh? Or are you just doing this for me?”
He picks up another stone. Inspects it carefully, turning it in his big hands, holding it up to the light filtering through the canopy. Then he pockets it with the others.
I think he actually likes rocks.
Or maybe he likes them because I do. And I don’t know what to do with that. Whatever this feeling is, it’s sitting in my chest like a second heartbeat.
We keep collecting. His pockets fill up, and then mine fill up.