Page 10 of Natasha
"Yes, Ms. Natasha," Silas reached out then, catching her hands in his. "But you have to stay close to me. Do you understand?"
"Anything. I promise," Natasha whispered.
Silas nodded, a hand moving to touch her chin lightly. He smiled down at her, eyes lingering on her lips. "Good girl."
Natasha shifted in the car, her eyes on the darkened streets outside. She had changed into the spare clothes she kept in her duffel bag for when she finished teaching—a pair of soft sweats, thick warm socks, canvas sneakers, and a loose cream sweatshirt. Natasha toyed with the hem of her sweatshirt and glanced over at Silas. He was nervous, she could tell by how he kept glancing over at her with quick, furtive movements.
Natasha didn't know what had possessed her to ask to come to his fight, but it was clear that he was uneasy about it. All of the calmness and authority that had been in him seemed to fade with each block they drove. Where was the man who had spoken to her in that firm, sexy voice? The one who growled low in his throat, the one who had touched her neck, who had asked her to call him Sir?
It was obvious that he wouldn't be the first to speak, as he had been silent since agreeing to bring her with him. Desperate to see that confident man again, Natasha blew out a deep breath and turned toward Silas with a smile on her face.
"How long have you fought?"
Silas' hands tightened on the steering wheel at her question. "Two years now in this circuit, but I've never been one to know when to walk away from a fight."
"Ah." Natasha nodded slightly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're a scrapper then?"
Silas grinned at that. "Something like that." He cleared his throat, glancing at her when they stopped at a light. "Just never much cared for bullies."
Natasha blushed at his statement, which conjured up images of the incident in the dance studio. "Good on you."
"Ever been in a fight?" Silas asked her suddenly as they drove on.
Natasha shook her head. "No, never." She hesitated then and said, "Well, not a physical one at least. I've been in plenty of verbal ones, though, or the type that are more subtle."
"I feel like those are even harder," Silas told her.
"Really?"
"A punch? That's easy." Silas drummed his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel. "I can take a hit, no problem. But staying calm enough to out talk someone? Now that, that's a talent." He smiled, eyes still on the road in front of them. "I can see you being good with words."
Natasha felt a rush of pleasure at his assessment of her. "And how are you with words?"
Silas lifted up one shoulder in a half shrug. "I'm decent."
"Just decent?" Natasha asked, her mind back on how he'd had her in the palm of his hand with just a few well-placed ones, earlier.
"All right, more than decent." He chuckled, the low sound putting a smile on Natasha's face. Silas was dangerous, of that she was sure, but how much so, she wasn't sure quite yet. There had never been a man who could draw her near to him like this, and it was a heady feeling that she wanted to see through.
"We're here," Silas said, slowing down outside of what looked like an old warehouse. All along the perimeter of the building was barbed wire. The city was quieter here, no longer a residential neighborhood.
When Natasha pursed her lips at the location, Steve shrugged. "Queens. What can you do?"
At that, she laughed. "At least it's not Jersey," she muttered, hopping out of the now parked car.
Silas made a face at her words and leaned across the hood. "Wouldn't dream of taking you to a place like that."
"What a comfort." Natasha giggled. The sound surprised her. She wasn't the type of woman, nor had she been even as a girl, to giggle. How did she forget herself around Silas? How did he have the ability to make her feel lighter and safer than she had in years?
Silas stepped closer to her, his hands already unzipping the sweatshirt he wore. "Put this on."
"I'm fine, really," Natasha protested, but she quieted when Silas draped the sweatshirt over her shoulders.
"Natasha," Silas sighed and toed at the pavement before glancing over his shoulder at the warehouse. She could hear a crowd screaming from within. The bass beat of music and cheers filled the night air. Natasha blinked in surprise when she saw people around her; the area wasn't as abandoned as she had once thought.
Natasha grinned, and before she could stop herself, she quirked up an eyebrow and leaned close to Silas. "Sir?" she said, voice husky and barely above a whisper.
At the title, Silas' back snapped straight, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Testing me, little girl?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.
