Page 63 of Forbidden Heart

“I wasn’t criticizing it... I was just...”

“Yes?” Silas demands, his snakebite piercing glinting menacingly under the fluorescent lights.

“I just think something was...” I search for the right word and finally say, “missing.”

“Missing?” he spits. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“You...” I trail off, suddenly feeling like Silas cast a magic spell over me. A silencing spell that stops my voice from working.

“I thought so,” Silas scoffs and turns away. Then he storms toward the door. “I’m out of here.”

“Wait,” I cry after him.

“What?” Silas spin around to face me. “You either tell me what your problem is, or I’m out.”

“W-when you sing...” I stutter, take a deep breath, and try to sound more confident. “There’s no passion.”

“Passion?” Silas frowns.

I nod.

Passion is what guides me. It’s what every fairy tale is about. And it’s what was missing from Silas’s voice as he went through the motions of rehearsing.

He slides his thumbs into his pant pockets and strolls toward me. His dark gaze pierces me with its intensity, and each step he takes steals oxygen from my breath. I keep waiting for him to stop, but he doesn’t. Not until we’re standing toe to toe, his face a hair’s breadth from mine.

“Do you want me to sing louder?” he asks, his tone an impossible mix of menace and seduction.

I gulp. Not because I’m scared of Silas—I know my guys would protect me—but because being this close to the Dark Prince is too much.

“Well?” he snaps.

I shake my head.

“You want me to add more dance moves?” he asks, his eyes locked on mine.

I shake my head again.

“Then what, Roonie? What is it you want?”

“For you to sing like you mean it,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“Mean what?” Silas frowns, like he has no clue what I’m talking about. The guy who’s hated me with a passion since the moment we met doesn’t realize that’s what his singing was missing. How is that even possible? His song was so laced with emotion I felt my soul shatter. Yet he can’t even put half that feeling into rehearsal?

“When you sing...” I struggle to find a way to explain. "You need to sing from your soul.”

“My soul,” Silas mutters. He shakes his head, takes a concentrated breath, and goes over the lyrics. He hits every note, and his voice is pure perfection, but it’s like a part of him is dead and his empty corpse is singing my song.

“Well?” he demands after he hits the last note.

I shake my head.

“You obviously don’t know what you’re doing,” Silas snaps, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.” This time he smirks, purposely goading me, and I know I can’t back down.

“You need to care about this song. You need to pour your heart into it,” I raise my voice so it doesn’t fade, because I know if I don’t say this now, I won’t be able to work up the courage later. “You need to feel the words, Silas. You need to make the audience feel them, too.”