Silas Scratch Novels & Stories

"Why? I’m the end of the world. You heard Morga. You heard the prophecy." "I followed you because I know what that hunger feels like," Silas said, dropping to his knees beside her. He didn't reach for her hands; he placed his palm directly over the black crescent scar on her stomach. "It’s a vacuum, isn't it? It’s not just eating your power. It’s eating your memories. It’s eating the girl who used to pick wildflowers."

Silas Drake didn't just scream: he unraveled. The silver letters of the nineteen generations of healers bored into his transparent skin like parasitic wasps. They weren't light. They were lead. They carried the weight of every pot scrubbed in silence, every wound hidden in the dark, and every woman who had died to keep a secret that was never hers to carry. "Get them off me!" Silas roared, his glass fingers clawing at the glowing ink. The more he fought, the deeper the names sank. I watched as the name Iyanla branded itself across his forehead, the silver fire liquid and hungry. His violet eyes began to leak white salt, his stolen divinity turning into a crystalline cage.

Eve's nails raked down his back, leaving marks that made him laugh. "That's it," he encouraged. "Fight back. I like it rough." She came twice more before he finally found his own release, growling her name like a curse and a prayer combined. When Silas took his turn, Eve was already boneless and trembling. She didn't think she had anything left to give. But Silas was different from his brothers. Slower. More deliberate. Like he was memorizing every sound she made, every expression that crossed her face. "You're perfect," he murmured against her neck. "So perfect for us."

As soon as they saw us they rushes to attack me while the other one goes to Hadrian. “Ahh!’ I groaned to pain as this strange guy pushes me hardly to our round glass table. My body were completely full of scratches and blood. I can even feel a piece of glass inside my stomach, but I stand again and grab him away as they’re both punching my poor husband. “You don’t really know when to hide you useless woman!” His voice seems to be familiar to me. I started to look at his eyes as it is the only part of his face that is uncovered with his black head mask. I can’t go wrong he’s really familiar.

Ava snuggled into his chest satisfied and exhausted. “Was it bad?” she whispered fighting sleep. “Not at all. You can be on top anytime, luv,” Silas said. “I love watching you. Take me whenever you want.” He gently ran his fingers down her back enjoying her shudders of pleasure. Silas suddenly froze his fingers tracing the faint puckered skin of an old scar on her shoulder. Had he been so enthralled by their nights of lovemaking he hadn’t noticed before?

I strain my eyes trying to see the man who steps forward, he's incredibly tall, and looks like he has a scar running down his face on the left side. "Look at this," Vane spat, his voice like gravel grinding together. "The Shadow of the Fae Realms, reduced to a lapdog for a half-starved wood-witch. Tell me, Silas, does she know you were going to trade her for a bag of silver? Or did you forget to mention that while you were playing hero?". A bag of silver. That’s all I was to him. Silas’s growl was weak, a wet, rattling sound in his chest as the iron-scented air choked him. "She... is... mine," he rasped, the words cost him everything.

"Remove your pants” “No,” she said, cutting through my words. It made me chuckle, low and amused. Without another thought, I bit the crook of her neck. Not gentle, but not cruel either - just enough to make her gasp. The sound that escaped her was somewhere between a scream and a moan, raw and unexpected. It made something primal stir in me, something I wasn’t ready to name. “Take it off, love” “No, we can't... the contract...”

“Get to the tomb! Now!” The Trinity hisses. *“Traitor.”* Jarek grins, blood dripping from his lips. “Takes one to know one.” He plunges the dagger into the wolf’s core. It shrieks, dissolving into ash. --- **Silas’s Sacrifice** The Trinity advances, the cliff’s edge crumbling under our feet. Silas’s scar flares, golden-violet light enveloping us. “Take my hand,” he orders. “Silas, no—!”

I hoped he understood and let me handle this. “I’m sorry but…” I started but trailed off, before continuing, “I mean, I'm not actually sorry. Anyway, I can't not come here. You see, my mate runs this place” I finished and she took a step closer to me, a solid frown on her face, almost like she was trying to intimidate me. I didn't back down however, unfortunately for her. “You witch” Sabrina said, as she raised her hand, and slapped me. Almost immediately, I slapped her too, if not harder and I watched as she staggered backward from the force and in shock.

“Just come back.” Silas nodded once. “I will.” But as he turned, something in his chest cracked. Because he’d already started to wonder… What if he didn’t want to? Back in the present… That night, Silas stood at the edge of Red Moon’s southern line, mist curling around his boots. The woods were dead quiet. Too quiet. He glanced behind him. No one. Then he turned And saw eyes in the dark. Gold. Familiar. And furious. Because some instincts come from love…