Black and Silver

by Gwendolyn Harper

Beauty was obvious, and hilariously common. But passion… Passion was rare and precious. Ivy had both.

Stunning, he thought, studying the flickering light catching in her inky black curls. Absolutely stunning.

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.

“But know, if you don’t eat until you’re satisfied, I’m not above playing ‘here comes the airplane’ with your spoon.”

“And there’s nothing humiliating about having your needs met, even by someone else’s hand.”

“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?”

Oh God, he likes this. He likes… me, she thought, trying and failing not to shake in his hold. He wants me. How—

“Never think for a second that I’m shaming you,” Silas continued. “And from now on, when you find my gaze lingering on you, I don’t want you to cower. I want you to delight in it.”

More flattering. If those jeans were any more flattering he’d have laid her out on the table to eat instead of his eggs and toast.

But the warmth in his red-ringed eyes told a much more nuanced story. He wanted her to feel comfortable seeking him out. He wanted her to feel comfortable, period.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?” Silas asked, voice drawing her in like a lasso made of smoke. Goosebumps spread up Ivy’s arms. Only if you promise to eat me, her desire spoke in her head.

“Watching you become impossibly slick, maybe even gush down the curve of your arse. I’ll shower you with praise, letting you know just how good you’re doing for me, how much I want you, how beautiful you are as you chase your release.” Her heartrate skyrocketed and Silas growled deep in his chest. “Mhm, I can taste how much you like that,” he said. “Does my little witchling enjoy being praised?”

“I’m going to glorify you so much, witchling, you’ll be transformed into a goddess,” he said, running his tongue over the tip of his left fang. “Mortals will beg to worship at your altar.”

“Be good for me, witchling,” he coaxed in her ear. “Let me see you fall apart.”

The corner of Silas’ mouth twitched. His little witchling had more bite than bark it seemed. Reaching up, he twirled the soft end of one of her curls around his fingertip. “Ivy,” he purred, coaxing her to speak.

“You surprise me more and more each day,” he said, dragging his lips to the corner of her mouth.

He loved it when she treated him like… Well, like an average man.

Holding her by the hips, he savored her warmth, her generous curves, her lush scent, and pulled her closer. Remembering his own rules, he said, “Do you want my hands on you, Ivy?” She blinked up at him—a lost lamb stumbling into a hungry wolf. “Do… are you…” She cleared her throat. “Did you need to feed?” His lips twitched. “That’s not what I’m asking for. Do you want my hands on you?” Ivy glanced down at where he gripped her, the swell of her hips filling his palms so beautifully. “I like it,” she said softly. Silas waited for her to complete her answer. “So… yes,” she finished. “I do.”

“I… I think it’s my default,” she continued, lashes fluttering as she glanced down. “It’s easier to expect the worst than to hope for the best.” His heart twisted, knowing just how much Ivy must have been mistreated if her entire outlook on life was to brace for impact. It made him want to find whoever was the culprit and burn them and their houses to the ground. “I’m sorry for letting that cloud my judgement of you,” she murmured. Silas kissed the bridge of her nose, memorizing the smattering of freckles there. “You’re forgiven, my little witchling,” he said, letting his voice drop several octaves just to watch her pupils dilate.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced over to see Ivy emerging from the library with a huge stack of books cradled in her arms. Oh, Lucifer save me, she’s in a sundress, he inwardly groaned, knees going soft.

“To be taken roughly, wildly. To be fucked senseless, until all you are is endless, eternal pleasure—like a star exploding only to birth new galaxies.”

“Be sure to finish your work before dinner,” he said. “Because after, you’re not leaving my playroom for quite a while.”

“Jesus and Mary, fine,” she exclaimed. “I was worried about what would happen when I saw you.” Silas frowned. “Meaning?” “Meaning I didn’t want everyone sitting at the table to be shoving their face full of sausage, knowing full well I was imagining yours.” His expression changed with each heartbeat. Confusion. Thump. Realization. Thump. Feral amusement.

“Your body is made for worship, witchling,” he said with a voice like liquid smoke. “And I will be your most devoted acolyte.”

She is, a distant voice in his head told him. She is mine. Whether she knows it or not. Whether I want to admit it or not. She’s mine.

“Good girls get to be as bad as they want,”

He wanted to lay her out on one of the loungers and feed her pomegranate seeds from his own fingers. To place juicy slices of plums all over her naked torso and devour them one by one while making her writhe with pleasure.

“I don’t punch first, but I punch hardest,” she said primly. Purring deep in his chest, Silas sank his fingers into her hair and massaged her scalp at the back of her head. “My wicked, baneful beauty,” he murmured.

Ivy: Tell mom and dad I love them but that they don’t have to love me back.

And the look in her eyes was that of a lioness—fierce, powerful, and beckoning. Ivy was gaining more confidence. With him and with herself. It was insanely hot.

“Now quit blaming yourself. Because I’m here, I’m alive, I’m fine, and I’d very much like you to fuck me.”

He was beautiful. She wasn’t sure many cocks could be called that, but Silas’ fit the description. Long, deliciously thick, and uncut, he was flushed and already dripping with precum. Please tell me to get on my knees, she begged inside her mind. Please let me taste you. Please, please, please—

“I’ve felt you come on my cock now,” he said with harsh breaths ghosting across her face. “I’ve tasted your beautiful cunt as it gushed for me. And I’ve feasted on your magic. If you think I’m ever letting you go, witchling, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Now be a good fucking girl,” he grit out between his fangs. “And stare into my eyes when you come for me again.”

“Silas, you just fucked my brains out. Please don’t make me horny again, I think my cunt will fall off if we go another round.”

“Let me take care of you, witchling,” he whispered into her hair. “I need to do it.”

“Don’t start moping now. I couldn’t bear it.” “Or what? You’ll bull bait me into fucking you again?” Ivy giggled when he pressed his thumb into the arch of her foot. “I don’t remember you complaining,” she said, trying not to jerk in his hold. Silas tugged on her pinky toe, getting her attention and locking eyes with her. “I’ll never complain about being with you,” he said. “In any capacity.”

“Kilroy doesn’t respect anyone. Don’t bow your head for him. Or for any man.” God damn it. If I wasn’t falling in love with you already…

Kilroy flicked his gaze over her dismissively. “She could probably do with a bit of etiquette training.” “I’m right fucking here,” Ivy nearly shouted. “And I’m not going to let you talk about me as if I’m a head of cattle. I’m a human being you unbearable cunt.”

“First you try to take her for a blood tithe,” he snarled, pinning Kilroy to the pavement with his knee. “Then you try to buy her off me.” Wrapping his fingers around the man’s throat, he squeezed until he felt something beneath his skin give way—a tendon, perhaps. Maybe his windpipe. Swinging his other fist, he pummeled Kilroy’s temple. “I should kill you just for speaking to her,” Silas spat. “For breathing air that could have graced her lungs. I could skin you and turn your hide into a pair of shoes for her to dance on your bones with.” Blood poured from Kilroy’s face—his nose, his mouth, his now broken orbital socket. And still Silas kept punching. “If you ever come near her again, I’ll rip your spine out through your throat and bind you to Hell’s gate with it.”

“If you even look at Ivy again, we’ll see how you like it when I step on your neck.” He peeled his lips back off his fangs. “And break it.”

Give me a name, he thought with red clouded vision. Give me all their names, and they’ll never know peace again.

“Ivy.” “Hm?” “Please put on your seatbelt.” She jerked a little. “Oh, right. Sorry.” Pulling out onto the street, he took a deep breath and released it slowly. You definitely love her. Idiot.

“I…” He swallowed. “I just missed you,” he said so softly she almost couldn’t hear him. Her heart seized behind her sternum and her throat tightened. “You did?” Silas nodded, raking his hand through his wondrously dark hair. “I actually miss you quite a lot during the day.” Lifting his gaze to hers again, he added, “It’s a struggle not to be obnoxious about it and trail after you like a dog.”

Our home. She saw herself as one of them. It wasn’t just from her employment status, it was loyalty. Pride swelled in his chest, and Silas ached to pull her into him and praise her until she was streaming down her thighs.

You can’t shield her from everything, a calm voice told him. And if you tried, she’d certainly hate you. Just be sure to stay right by her side to catch her if and when she falls, no matter the height she’s climbed to.

Ivy had uncovered something huge. She could use all of this to track the identity of the Infernal who betrayed them. She’d been brave and reckless and defiant and so, so smart. And she’d also given Silas an ulcer the size of Cork city.

The look in his eye when he’d left her in the dining room has sent her insides into a quivering fit. ‘Fun-ishment’ her fat ass.

“I’ve spent the last hour coming up with all the ways I want to imprint this lesson on you,” he growled in her ear, twisting and tugging her peaks, sending a flash of heat straight to her core. “I thought perhaps you were just being a brat. That you wanted to test me. Defy me for the fun of it.” Ivy rocked back against him, desperate to feel more of him. “And if that’s true, little witch, I’ll be more than happy to play your game and fuck the brattiness right out of you every single night.”