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Unsettled like he knew it, too.

Then he turned and looked at her with a grin on his face. “Eighteen this Friday. Don’t know how it’s even possible.”

She couldn’t stop the blush, her teeth scraping her bottom lip. “It seems weird,” she admitted.

She’d been so sheltered that she’d missed out on so many experiences of other girls her age.

Silas said it was too dangerous for her out there. Would never allow her to step outside the parameters that he deemed safe.

“How do you want to celebrate this momentous occasion?” Trevan asked as he leaned against the counter. His big, muscled arms crossed over his chest.

Her eyes dragged over him, and the thought came unbidden.

Naked with you.

“Pizza and a movie?” Silas suggested.

Elena shook herself out of the fantasies that had been coming far too often and scoffed at her older brother. “Um, no, I want to go out. Really go out.”

“Absolutely not.” Silas issued it like law.

“Newsflash, Silas. I’m not a little girl. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do anymore.”

“Like hell, I don’t. Won’t have you out there in this city by yourself.”

Anger flared inside her, and she pushed up from her chair. “And you can’t keep me confined here.”

“We’ll take you out.” The words flew out of Trevan, and while he pushed a placating hand out toward Elena, his attention darted to Silas. “Make sure she has a fun birthday.”

She heard what got left out but what was issued in their silent communication.

On our terms.

But she didn’t argue it. She was too freaking excited to even think to demand more.

Besides, the only person she really wanted to celebrate her eighteenth birthday with was Trevan.

She knew it was messed up. That she wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But her heart was already there. And she prayed his would catch up.

FORTY-NINE

ELENA

My head spun as I basically stumbled down the steps toward my truck.

Staggered by what had happened between Trevan and me just an hour ago. Something had cracked, and I could tell that Trevan had sustained it like a blow.

A crumbling, and he didn’t know how to handle it, either.

He’d barely said two words to me after we’d gotten out of the shower, but his touch hadn’t been far.

Hands constantly reaching out like he needed to make sure I was okay and he hadn’t broken me.

Didn’t he get it yet?

That the only way he could break me was by shunning what we felt?