Black and Silver

by Gwendolyn Harper

“Taking me to meet a minotaur?” She commented despite herself. “Jesus, this place is a fecking maze.”

“Miss Saint James,” that same male voice said, bringing her attention to the far end of the room. Her gaze found him immediately, but her brain struggled to catch up with the sensory input. Oh… My… God… This was not a man or a demon. This was a living fantasy. Standing behind the desk, hands casually slipped into his trouser pockets as if he were about to go for a stroll, he locked eyes with her, offering a tight half smile that was much too alluring.

Ivy knew she was gaping but she couldn’t help it. He was so… beautiful. Handsome, strong features and smooth, tanned skin. Dark, nearly black hair that matched his dark eyes. He looked like a high powered executive at the end of the day—his deep silver button down open at the collar to expose the hollow of his throat, and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He painted a gorgeous picture, but what numbed Ivy’s brain was the sensual edge to every motion his lean, muscular body made. He radiated something potent her primordial instincts classified as both ‘sexual’ and ‘dangerous’. Oh, shit. She was still staring.

Ivy wanted to roll her eyes. Why did he have to be English?

Mister Grey prowled around the desk, coming to stand in front of it for a moment before perching himself on the wooden edge, crossing his legs at the ankles. She didn’t understand why, but the image of a jungle cat flashed in her mind. A panther contemplating his next meal. Jesus, he was walking sex. Well, duh, Ivy, of course he is.

The man who was… staring at her like she was a new puzzle he couldn’t wait to scatter all over his desk and start fitting the pieces together.

“Let me be very clear, Miss Saint James,” he said, voice gone cold. “No one—not myself or any of my people—feed from the unwilling. We never take anything by force. And I do not appreciate the assumption that we would ever do something so heinous because of what we are.” Ivy’s gut twisted but she didn’t let it show.

Jesus, he was tall too. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder.

“You’ll need to perform a spell for me tonight,” he said. “I’d like to see the kind of power you claim to have.” Ivy nodded. She’d anticipated as much. “You’ll also live here for the foreseeable future,” he continued. She blinked owlishly. “What?” “You’ll be under my employment,” he said as if he’d just announced the weather. “I offer housing to all of my people.” Baffled, she tried to formulate a response but didn’t have a chance before he started speaking again. “And you’ll assist me in feeding.” Ivy froze. “I’ll…”

“How?” Ivy blurted out. “I might be a demon, but I do allow cable television.” She shook her head, curls bouncing around her face. “I meant, how would I…” Her cheeks burned so hot she knew it was visible, even in the low light. “Are you asking me to…” Mister Grey smirked as he stirred his tea. “Like I said, I don’t fuck the unwilling. But there are other ways for an Incubus to receive the sustenance we need.” Oh my God, oh my God, oh my— Ivy realized she was staring at the cup of tea he was offering her blankly.

“Ivy,” she murmured. “Call me Ivy.” God, that red ring in his eyes was hypnotic. Of course it is, he’s a fucking demon. He smiled and heat skipped up her arms. It was only then, at a much closer distance, that she could see the twin pearly tips of his canines jutting down. She wasn’t surprised. All Incubi had fangs. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t affected by them. “Ivy,” he said, voice like liquid smoke. “What a lovely name.”

“Would you prefer me to continue calling you Mister Grey?” She asked as she wrote the first few items. Leaning back on the heels of his palms, he dragged his gaze over her, and Ivy was certain he was playing up his sensuality just to get to her. “Only if you wish,” he said. “Otherwise, you may call me Silas.”

She may have only known him for about an hour, but she’d clocked a few things about her new Infernal boss. Red rings burned in his irises when he was feeling positively about something. He didn’t chatter, but he listened to every word said around him.

Silas grinned down at her, slipping his hands back into his pockets. “No one in this house is afraid of a little fire.” To emphasize his point, he nodded to the collection of candles next to her and in a blink of an eye, they were all lit. “Bet you save a ton on matches in this house, eh?” She chuckled. Playfulness spiked in her blood as she glanced from the flickering pillars to Silas. He was showing off, and while she knew she’d be displaying exactly the kind of power she had in just a minute, Ivy couldn’t help but return the favor. Waving her hand, she snuffed out all the candles at once.

His grin was much too distracting, too alluring.

As she poured the black salt over the key, Silas lowered into a squat, watching her with keen interest. “Perhaps while you’re under my employment, you’ll also find time to teach me about your magic,” he murmured, pressing his forearms to his knees. Ivy smiled, tilting her face towards him. “Only if you promise to be a good student,” she teased. The red in his eyes brightened. “I assure you, I’m very attentive.” She didn’t doubt that for a single second.

It was easy to flirt with him, despite their unusual circumstances. Maybe too easy.

The thought had crossed her mind that just his presence would make her less inhibited, as Incubi were known to draw in their intended lovers with their energy and aura. But Silas didn’t act like he was seducing her. If anything, he seemed to be trying to get her acclimated to him, like approaching a deer in a clearing.

The moment she’d strode into his office, he thought Lucifer himself must’ve been toying with him. He’d struck deals with plenty of people in dire situations, but never with such a strange and unusual creature as Ivy Saint James. Silas had known she was powerful before she even mentioned being a Witch. He could taste it in the air around her, sense it like a low electrical current thrumming in her aura. Her magic practically glowed in her mismatched eyes. The heterochromia—one rich brown eye, one deep ocean blue—wasn’t the first thing he noticed about her, but as soon as he did, he was hard pressed to look away.

Humans were a funny creation, each one a combination of a multitude of traits that society deemed either desirable, acceptable, or neither. It was all luck of the genetic draw. A statistical game that meant very little to Silas in the grand scheme of things. Beauty was obvious, and hilariously common. But passion… Passion was rare and precious. Ivy had both. And that fact made his fangs ache to sink into her softness and tap the enigmatic vein running through her and drink deep. He was selfish that way. It wasn’t enough for him to simply admire—he needed to devour.

Resting on her heels, the swell of her hips was exaggerated by her position, and Silas clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to rid them of the urge to touch, to grab, to hold onto

He couldn’t understand how a single person who’d met Ivy could ever call her ‘average’. Couldn’t understand how anyone would think she was less than simply because of her hair, height, or weight. Humans were weak. His stare shifted to her profile as her head tipped back, sinking deeper into the trance. Well, not all humans. Not her.

Would she let him taste her? His stare dropped to her thick thighs, spread wide over the sigil on the floor. Would she whimper as he touched her? He arched his neck, taking in her generous, round arse. Would she scream until the windows shook when she came? A feral need rose up inside Silas, and he growled low in his chest. He wouldn’t stop until she cracked every pane of glass. That is, once she was willing. Once she agreed for him to have his hands, his mouth, all over her. Until then, Ivy would feed him in other ways, and he’d make sure she enjoyed every millisecond of it.

Ivy attempted a wane smile just as the candles snuffed out at once. “You didn’t tell me the door was warded,” she said, voice cracking from overuse. Silas frowned. “I thought that was implied.” Brushing her hands off, she said, “And the fact that the wards were attached to a life force? Was that implied as well?” She was right. He’d kept that from her knowingly. He could argue that he wanted to test her abilities, but the truth was he wasn’t certain if she’d back out of their agreement if she knew. Silas didn’t answer, but she didn’t need him to. “Next time,” Ivy started, rubbing her thumb through the chalk circle to break it. “Don’t hide anything. It only makes things harder.”

She was warm in his arms. Warm and soft and she smelled like apples, rich spices, and woodsmoke. The dusting of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose contrasted sharply with her fair skin. The absurd urge to kiss every single one caught him in a chokehold, and he had to lock his neck in place to keep from bending low and brushing his lips across them. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Will you be hand feeding me as well then?” Ivy asked. Silas arched an eyebrow. She had no idea how appealing the idea actually was. “I get the feeling you’d find such an act infantilizing,” he said, voice strangely rough. “But know, if you don’t eat until you’re satisfied, I’m not above playing ‘here comes the airplane’ with your spoon.” Ivy’s laugh reverberated through his chest. “I’m tempted just to call your bluff,” she said. “But I’d rather not suffer the humiliation.” “It wasn’t a bluff,” he said, allowing his fingers to get caught in the ends of her hair.

“And there’s nothing humiliating about having your needs met, even by someone else’s hand.” She tensed against him, and Silas took note. His new Witch wasn’t accustomed to being loo...

His. The word rang in his head louder than a bell. Barely two hours with her and he was already ridin...

“Drink something. You’re dehydrated,” he said before he could stop himself. “Listen, I know that seemed like a big fuss, but I’m not a wean,” she countered. “I don’t need tending.” “You said you didn’t eat because you were nervous.” He crossed his arms. “What were you nervous about?” She paused with her fingers wrapped around the teapot handle. Silas’ stomach churned. He could hazard a guess as to what made her nervous. He was an Infernal. An Incubus with a ruthless reputation. He knew he scared people—enjoyed that fact occasionally when it suited his needs. But fear was counterproductive in the type of relationship he wanted to build with her.

She didn’t like being vulnerable in front of him. He understood it, but he’d be a liar if he said he wouldn’t work to change that.

She furrowed her brow as she muttered, “Seems wasteful to me…” He wanted to laugh. He was going to work on getting her to embrace her inner hedonist as well.

“Things are about to get very busy here,” he told her. “So before it slips my mind, I’ll tell you the house rules.” He waited until her big, mismatched eyes were locked on him before continuing. “You’re allowed to go wherever you please except for anywhere with a locked door or a room that’s claimed by another member of my household. You can touch, take, use, eat, drink, and wear anything you like. If you need something, ask for it. If you want something, ask for it. If you don’t know what you need or want, ask and someone will help you identify whatever it is.”

Silas prowled closer, allowing his true nature to slip out from behind his mask. He relished the pink hue that flooded her cheeks as she watched his gait. “And if I ask you a direct question, I expect a direct answer,” he added. “Understood?” Ivy nodded, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Yes.” “Good.” He held out his hand expectantly. “Time to make this official.” Her expression was both comical and alluring. “I… You want to… Right now?” Silas grinned, letting the tips of his fangs catch the light.

“I don’t have a contract for you to sign in blood,” he said, still waiting for her to take his hand. “I prefer to seal my bargains a different way.” Hesitantly, she placed her palm over his. “And… what way is that?” The possessive hunger he’d barely kept at bay thrashed inside his ribcage,...

“You guess?” He arched an amused eyebrow at her. Ivy shrugged, waving a hand out. “Well what else should I say? You want me to jump you like a feral cat?” “A little enthusiasm wouldn’t hurt.” “Fine, you big demonic baby, here.” She rolled her shoulders, stepping closer to him. With her chest nearly brushing his, she tilted her face up. “Better?” “Hmm… Not quite,” Silas said, but he smirked as he spoke.

Lifting his other hand, he gently cupped her jaw, angling her back until she was forced to hold onto him for stability. His smoldering stare dropped from her eyes to her lips, and an almost inaudible growl vibrated deep in his throat. “You look good like this, Ivy,” he practically purred. Breath hitching, she forced herself to form words. “Like… what?” “Wanting,” he answered simply and the red in his eyes intensified. She didn’t have a response—her mind completely blank, overtaken by a sudden torrent of lust.

Rubbing his thumb along her cheek, Silas leaned down until his lips were a fraction from hers. “Do you accept the terms of our deal?” Ivy’s lashes fluttered. “Yes.” And then his mouth was on hers, searingly hot and eager. She opened to him instantly and his tongue slipped inside, drawing a moan up from her depths. Releasing her hand, Silas fisted a handful of her curls at the back of her head, holding her to him as he kissed her thoroughly. Faintly, Ivy wondered if he was enjoyi...

Oh God, he likes this. He likes… me, she thought, trying and failing not to shake in his hold. He wants me. How— Breaking the kiss, Silas closed his eyes for half a beat before blinking them open. Hypnotic red blazed even brighter, deeper, like he was lit from the inside by Hell’s flames. “I think we’re going to have some fun together, little witchling,” he murmured, flashing his fangs as he smiled. Before she could even think of responding, he rele...

Jesus, men of all types were the same.

“Hi there,” she said, only addressing the woman hunched in on herself. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was in there—” She gestured over her shoulder towards the study. “—And figured you could use a cup of tea while these fellas talk over you and fuss about like you’re a wee broken dolly.” The hall went silent for three long beats. Finally, Kat let out a laugh and reached for the cup Ivy held out for her. “Thanks very much,” she said. Gaze flicking to the men crowding around them, she added, “They mean well but they’re pains in my arse.” “Aren’t all men?” That got her to laugh again, and Ivy smiled.

“I’m Kat,” the woman said after taking a sip. “Ivy.” “Pleasure to meet you, Ivy.” Kat took another long drink and hummed. “This is grand, thank you.” “Nothing cures a bad night better, in my opinion.” Silas stared at her, but he wasn’t angry she’d inserted herself into the situation. He was… pleased.

He may not let it show often, but there was a gentleness under his intense, lusty exterior.

and lifted his hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

Taking half a step back, he tilted his head in the direction of the stairs. “That’s a conversation to be had after you’ve slept.” “I told you, I’m—” “Fine, yes, I know,” he cut her off with a smirk. “But ‘fine’ is the barest of minimums in my opinion, so let’s get you to ‘good’ or even ‘great’ before you’re overloaded with more information.”

Silas leaned in, breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. “Still you underestimate me,” he murmured, amusement coloring his words.

With that, he turned away from her, striding down the hall, his hands in his pockets. “Good night, sweet Ivy,” he called. “I look forward to seeing you in the morning.”

Snatching her phone off the nightstand, she answered. “What did you do?” Moreen’s voice cut through the speaker before Ivy could say a word. Gaping, she struggled to form a response. “Ivy,” Moreen hissed. “What did you do?” “I—” She swallowed. “What do you mean?” “What do you think I mean? I’m calling you, Ivy. Calling you. I’m awake, and ambulatory, and I’ve been so since an insanely gorgeous man strolled into my house at three in the morning, put his hand on my head, and fecking healed me!” Ivy furrowed her brow. “He put his hand on your head? That’s a bit weird.”

she searched the drawers for the toiletries Silas had so confidently told her were available. Everything was right where he said it would be. A toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, face wash, moisturizer… the list went on and on. As she went to brush her teeth, Ivy caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror. The sleep clothes he’d left for her were much nicer than anything she’d ever bought for herself. A plum colored silk camisole and shorts set, with delicate lace trim. It was something a man would buy for his lover. Ivy nearly choked on her toothpaste as she realized that title wasn’t necessarily incorrect for her. Well, I haven’t earned it yet, so…

Quickly, she finished her morning routine and strode to the closet, poking around to find all kinds of outfit options. Silas had said he kept basics in here, but these didn’t seem all that basic to her. Soft, comfortable, high end fabrics in everything from gowns to slacks to athletic wear and leisure clothing. All of it, even down to the—oh, Jesus save her—underwear, was in her size.

She didn’t realize the V-neck was quite so deep until it was on, but she had a feeling that was intentional. Everything in the drawers and closet had a sensuality to them—not blatantly meant to illicit a sexual response, but to engage the senses and give a little wink to the desire simmering in everyone’s mind. Typical Incubus.