Romans & histoires Silas Scratch

Don't blame me for not holding back, then. Without hesitation, I kicked him hard. Silas let out a pained grunt, and his forehead broke into a cold sweat. He clutched his side while his face twisted in agony. "Serena… How could you do this to me?" I let out a cold laugh. "You tried to kill him. I only kicked you. Is that really so cruel?" Silas looked at me in disbelief. His voice was barely above a whisper as he called my name—hoping, perhaps, for even the slightest bit of mercy.

“Not a handshake. I mean touched where it counts.” My cheeks flamed. “I—no.” Silas didn’t look surprised. He just nodded and went back to sketching. “And yet you’re here.” I looked down. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” “Yeah, you do.” I glanced up. “You’re looking for a line to cross,” he said. “A boundary to break.” He finished the sketch and turned it toward me. It was a minimalist design of a single open mouth. Lips parted, tongue just barely visible. Not crude. Not obvious. But full of heat.

“As it turns out, I’ve just been recently informed that he and I were fated mates.” “Is that so?” I merely nodded. Silas kept his gaze leveled with mine as he moved his hand to brush my hair from the back of my neck. He leaned in close to examine the distorted-looking mark. “If you’re searching for a mating mark, I’m afraid you’ll be vastly disappointed. The only one that’s there is a long faded scar.” Silas hadn’t lost that look of amusement. “No matter.” With most of my hair still clutched in his hand, he leaned in closer. I nearly felt the tip of his nose brush against the curve of my neck.

I assured him and he instantly relaxed. "I love you so much Scarlett, so so much and if I could take back everything that had happened I would. I'm so so sorry for hurting you Elara and I promise I'm going to make it up to you. I'm going to work every day to prove that I'm worthy of your love," Silas declared and his voice was strong and his eyes were filled with determination and my heart melted.

It was a concentrated blast of pure energy. I thrust my hands forward. The blast hit Silas in the chest. It threw him back. He skid across the floor. He hit the sarcophagus. He looked surprised. He looked down at his chest. There was a small scorch mark on his pale skin. He laughed. "Good," Silas said. "Very good. You have teeth." He stood up. The scorch mark faded instantly. He healed faster than any wolf I had ever seen. "But you are a candle," Silas said. "And I am the sun."

“I’m not going to shower you tonight. I have another meeting. So you are getting one now. You get to be on my timeline now, since you want to be so obstinate.” Swallowing my snarky reply, I just accepted it. Silas seemed a bit surprised, but he didn’t say anything else either. Helping me pull my shirt off, I pushed him back to remove my pants. I hated this so much. Once naked, Silas stripped down as well. My eyes widened, and I stared at his chest. The runes that used to look like open wounds were now more like puffy, healed scars. You could actually make them out now, but I had no idea what they meant. I felt a growing sense of dread as he dropped his pants as well.

Silas punishment were lashings, the whip dipped in wolfsbane and made with a silver coating, making the scars hard to heal even with his wolf. Silas didn't say a word or made a sound but I colud feel his fear like it was my own and his pain rippled in my body like it also were my own. I silently cried and I really wanted to help him, I reached out my hand and touched his shoulder and I felt tingles, weak but they were there. Silas lifted his head and searched his surrounding but couldn't find me, I watched as his scars slowly healed and his father looking at it with rage in his face.

An odd aura emanated from him, and just from where I stood, it was damn near suffocating. "Shall we begin?" Silas' monotonous voice asked as he produced a knife from his hip. "He’s ready, sir." One of the men that returned with him announced. "Did Nathaniel do his job?" "Yes." Nodding, Silas turned his full attention on the man in front of him. In that moment, an odd aura of bloodlust began to appear, and an excited gleam flashed in his eyes. "Then it’s time to play." Biting back the gasp that wanted to escape me, I watched as Silas used his knife to rip open his captive’s shirt, exposing many criss-crossed scratches that had to have been made earlier in the night.

I looked up. Silas was standing in front of me, shirtless, the waistband of his pants still low enough to reveal that deep V that made girls stare. His chest glistened faintly. There was a scratch on his neck. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look surprised. He smiled. “Well, well,” he said, voice low and amused. “Who’s our little spy?” I scrambled to my feet, words tumbling over my tongue. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—”