Stefan plucked the gun from her hand, tossing it on the bed before pressing the hilt of the dagger into her unwilling fingers.
“It has to be done, Amelia. I can’t reach them.”
“NO!”She clenched her jaw, trapped between her desire to condemn him to hell and the knowledge that his injuries wouldn’t heal until the silver was gone.
“Damn.” She pointed towards the chair by the small table. “Sit down.”
Taking his seat, Stefan waited until Amelia was standing rigidly behind him, reaching over his shoulder to grasp her hand and press it to his lips.
“Just the silver, cara.”
She predictably yanked her hand away from his touch, but Stefan didn’t miss the care she took not to jostle his shoulder.
“If I decide to kill you, it won’t be with a knife in the back,” she muttered. “Hold still.”
Brac
