Page 7 of Natasha
Chapter 2
Natasha wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when she awoke, it wasn't on the hard floor of the dance school. It was on an overstuffed leather couch. There was a pillow beneath her cheek and a soft flannel blanket over her shoulders, the ends meticulously tucked around her body. Natasha blinked against the light in the room and licked her lips. Her mouth felt dry, and she coughed while she took in the unfamiliar setting.
A figure moved into her line of sight at the sound of her cough. And it wasn't just any figure. It was Silas.
"H-hi." Natasha gingerly pushed herself up into a sitting position.
"Hey," Silas said softly, his hands held out toward her, eyes scanning her face as if checking for injuries. "Lie back down."
Natasha frowned but lay down as directed. "I'm okay."
He raised an eyebrow at her statement but said nothing. Instead, he offered her a glass of water that had been sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Natasha took the water with a grateful nod. "Thank you," she murmured before taking a sip.
When she was done drinking, Silas gently put his hand on hers and said, "More. Drink more. Ah, please." He closed his eyes briefly, running a hand over his face, and let out a quick huff of breath. "Please drink more water."
Silas opened his eyes and gave her a beseeching look. He was worried, and no matter how silly it seemed to her, an extra sip of water seemed to mean the world to him, so she nodded and took another deep drink. When she had downed half the glass of water, he let out a hum of approval and took it from her, his big hand surprisingly gentle against her fingers.
"Thank you," Natasha said again. She tried not to concentrate too much on how close Silas was now. He had slipped up next to her and had begun helping her to sit up, tucking the blanket around her as he did so. Natasha blushed when she realized that it must have been Silas who had covered her with the blanket so carefully before.
He ducked his head at her thanks. "How do you feel?"
Natasha let out a weary sigh. "I've been better, but I'm mostly just worn out." She smiled wanly at him and glanced around the living room. "I-is this your house?"
"It is. I didn't, ah, know where to take you after."
"After?" Natasha asked, her eyes on the blanket in her lap.
"After I got rid of that jackass."
"Ah, Mr. Peachtree."
"Mister is a title he doesn't deserve," Silas said, his voice dark with a venom that startled Natasha. She glanced up from the loose thread of the blanket she had been toying with to see that Silas' face had gone hard. His eyes no longer a summer sky but now darkened with anger. Natasha swallowed thickly at the display of raw emotion. This man was a raging storm, and it filled the space around them with an electricity that made her pulse speed up.
"Silas…" Natasha stopped speaking, unsure of what to say next, but she forged ahead as best she could. She didn't like that Silas had needed to step in like he had, that she'd swooned like a damsel-in-distress, or that the entire evening had turned into a nightmare. "I'm very sorry ab—"
Silas' gaze snapped to her at the beginning of her apology. The hard look in his eyes only lasted for another moment before the clouds parted and she saw summer skies again.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said, his voice gentle. "You did nothing wrong." His hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Natasha looked away from Silas' gaze, but she was grateful for his hand on hers. "I know, but that doesn't mean that anything that happened was okay. And I just passed out like I did. I'm so embarrassed."
"Nothing that man did was okay. And there's no reason to be embarrassed. You went into shock, simple as that." Silas gave her hand another gentle touch before he pulled away from her. Against her better judgment, Natasha found herself wanting to lean into him, to chase his hands, to be closer to him than she already was, but she kept herself still. She had to get control of herself. Yes, Silas had saved her, but this urge to run her fingers through his blond hair, to press her nose to the curve of his neck, to see how his body would feel against hers...it was all too much, dizzying even for someone who had always exercised control in her relationships.
"But I'm still so—" Natasha tried again, but Silas would have none of it.
"S'nothing to be sorry for. The only person who should be sorry is that animal who tried to put his hands on you." He leaned back against the couch and sighed. "He won't be around anymore. If he does come around, I want you to call me."
"Call you?"
"Yes. I'll make sure you have my number. I was gonna have to stop picking Maddy up from dance, but I'll stick to the routine to check on you, too."
Natasha shook her head. "You don't have to do that."
Silas blushed, the pink color tingeing the tops of his ears before he turned to look at her again. "I want to."
"Oh." Natasha felt a smile pulling at her lips at the words. She cautioned a look at Silas to see that he was smiling at her. Suddenly, those summer skies had a sun, and it was this man's smile. "What happened, ah, to Mr. Peachtree?" she asked, forcing her eyes away from him and attempting to regain control of both the butterflies in her stomach and the conversation. If they were talking about the other man, then Silas would have no time to give her those heart-melting smiles.
As predicted, Silas' warm smile vanished into a thin press of lips and a clenched jaw. Natasha squeezed her hands tightly around the blanket in her lap when she realized that Silas' glaring, eyes unfocused, and body poised for a fight was something she found attractive—very attractive. Natasha delicately cleared her throat in a prompt of her question. Beside her, he shifted, an agitated breath escaping him before he stood up and began to pace slightly.
