Page 14 of Burning Ice
Leaning in, he pressed the fruit against his little ghost’s mouth, using it to trace the shape of those lips, lush as they weredespite being so dry. He mapped every subtle curve, drank in every shocked gasp.
“Open.”
Their eyes met.
Slowly, his mouth opened. Kylix’s cock hardened at the sight. His little ghost was perfect, desperate and hungry and completely at his mercy. He used the grape to trace the straight row of white teeth. A sob filled the silence.
“No, little one. You won’t get to eat if you don’t talk.” Kylix plopped the fruit in his own mouth.
In the background, Vandor coughed. Kylix had forgotten he was there. His presence irritated and aroused him at the same time. His subtle disagreement was laughable.
He broke the bread.
Mine before Light. Mine before Fire.
“Let me ask you again. What’s your name?”
He slowly lifted a piece of bread. His eyes fixed on the captive’s mouth, watched how the boy stared at the food, pride and stubbornness temporarily forgotten. He let it hover within reach. He let him take a corner. Dry against his tongue. Then his lips closed. Crumbs stuck damp at the edge of his mouth. His throat worked too fast. He swallowed like a man starved. A fleck caught on his lip. His tongue brushed it away. He coughed once. It was a ragged sound. Spit gleamed at the corner of his lips.
Vandor coughed once again. “Perhaps he needs some water, sir.”
“Perhaps you need to shut your mouth,” Kylix murmured in return. He tilted his head, eyes locked on the boy’s face. Desire licked at his insides. “Or do you think he’s right, little ghost? Is it water you want?”
His blink was enough. Kylix had seen many prisoners crack. This was where it started; it always did. “So easy,” he murmured. “A scrap and your body sings for me. Perhaps you’re right,Vandor. Perhaps a bit of water is all he needs to share his secrets. Would you like that, little one?”
He held the glass in front of his face. “Your name.”
“M-Mirel,” he finally rasped, defeated.
“Mirel.” Kylix tasted it under his breath. He said it again to feel the shape. He pressed the glass to Mirel’s mouth and watched as his lips parted and drank eagerly, throat working, desperate to keep up. When he finished, Kylix set the glass aside on the table.
“You were named after the Light? Did your mother hope you’d burn bright or freeze the world?”
Mirel’s shoulders lifted in the smallest shrug. “I-I don’t know.”
Kylix pinched the bread between two fingers and held it near, letting the warm scent do the work. “Tell me,” he murmured. “Was the old man your father?”
He tore off a crust of fresh bread and brushed it against Mirel’s lower lip. His lips parted, sharp teeth ready to bite.
He pulled it back when the lips parted. “Uh-uh, not yet. Yes, or no?”
Mirel shook his head.
“Good boy.” Kylix watched as Mirel chewed, overthinking his situation.
Mirel was Dariux, that much was sure, but did that also make him an ally? As trained as he was in security, he couldn’t be sure. Where had he come from? How long had he lived in that graveyard?
“Now, once again, who taught you the power of ice?” He brushed a strand of white hair from Mirel’s face. His heart jumped when their eyes met.
Mirel pressed his mouth thin. No answer.
“You are a stubborn little thing.” Kylix pressed another crumb to the lower lip. “Is it because you fear me? Here.”
Mirel’s mouth opened for the crust of bread.
Kylix’s cock thickened at the gesture. He watched in fascination as Mirel’s slender throat worked. “It doesn’t matter, little ghost. I will find out. Though perhaps it might be too late for you then.”
Mirel jerked back, fists clenching. The cuffs held. His lips pressed shut then parted with a rasped denial. “I-I don’t know.”
