Silver Elite: Chapter 21
Sep. 23rd, 2025 08:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penwallaWe open to Cross fighting Ford, another military guy who has made so little impression on me that I cannot remember anything about him.
Roe, Cross's evil half-brother, gives Wren running commentary while they fight. And the fight opens with a weirdly homoerotic description. I can't tell if all the weird gay moments in this book are on purpose.
Girl. You could stop at any time. You are not mind-controlled by your pussy.
Cross wins the fight, and Wren is again horny about how she just knows Cross would kill his childhood best friend if he had to. So far this chapter has been deeply disappointing. Wren goes to the bathroom and feels like her makeup makes her feel more like herself and like a stranger, and I wish the chapter had been about that feeling instead of about her libido.
After a bit of banter with Cross, she decides to leave and walk home alone. Gee, I wonder if something bad will happen to her.
Plot twist! It's drunk Cross, here to pin her sexily against a wall.
Wren heroically resists the urge to sleep with this man who she has no reason to believe would not genocide all her people in a heartbeat.
And with that, the chapter ends.
What was the point of all that?
Seriously, what was the point? We spend no time advancing the plot, we spend no time exploring Wren's character, and we don't even advance her and Cross's relationship in any meaningful way. It's just a waste of time.
Roe, Cross's evil half-brother, gives Wren running commentary while they fight. And the fight opens with a weirdly homoerotic description. I can't tell if all the weird gay moments in this book are on purpose.
My attention returns to the sand, my throat running dry as my captain and my lieutenant strip their shirts off. Fabric is tossed aside to reveal two bare chests. Sinew and muscle.Wren gets so horny watching them fight that she turns into Violet Sorrengail:
The men square off in the center of the pit. It starts almost like a tease. Their movements are fluid and practiced as they circle each other. Ford is grinning. Cross licks his lips. The air thickens with tension. Anticipation hangs heavy over the makeshift arena. Even the volume of the music seems to lower.
I. Cannot. Look. Away.
I try to push the thoughts from my mind, but it’s no use. The sight of Cross, his muscles rippling with exertion, his features twisted mercilessly, stirs something primal within me.
Hunger.
I hate both him and myself for it.
Girl. You could stop at any time. You are not mind-controlled by your pussy.
Cross wins the fight, and Wren is again horny about how she just knows Cross would kill his childhood best friend if he had to. So far this chapter has been deeply disappointing. Wren goes to the bathroom and feels like her makeup makes her feel more like herself and like a stranger, and I wish the chapter had been about that feeling instead of about her libido.
After a bit of banter with Cross, she decides to leave and walk home alone. Gee, I wonder if something bad will happen to her.
Plot twist! It's drunk Cross, here to pin her sexily against a wall.
Wren heroically resists the urge to sleep with this man who she has no reason to believe would not genocide all her people in a heartbeat.
“Any other woman would have asked me to kiss her. We’d already be heading back to my quarters.”
My core clenches. Tempting. It’s so tempting, my mouth runs dry.
Despite my better judgment, I reach up and touch him. “Is that what you want me to do? Ask you to take me back to your quarters?”
His breath hisses as my fingers trace the line of his jaw. God, that’s a strong jaw.
“Because I can assure you, that’s not going to happen. I’m not interested, Captain."
And with that, the chapter ends.
What was the point of all that?
Seriously, what was the point? We spend no time advancing the plot, we spend no time exploring Wren's character, and we don't even advance her and Cross's relationship in any meaningful way. It's just a waste of time.
