Page 17 of Burning Ice
“But what if?—”
“That’s enough, lover.” Moargan pulled him from the couch, an arm around Cyprian’s frail shoulders. “You’re frightening yourself.”
Kylix thought of Mirel’s fragile build upstairs. Mirel, who sat chained in his Waltr, waiting for him to return. He stood too. “If I happen to find anything inside my property, I’ll let you know.”
Moargan chuckled. “You do that. Now, I’m taking you home. You should be in bed, lover. You’re still recovering from all the excitement. We’ll soon do a proper celebration with the rest, cousin.”
“Sounds good.” Kylix’s multi-slate dinged with a message from the Luminary. He frowned when he read the text.
“What is it?” Moargan wanted to know.
“It’s probably nothing, but I’ll check to be sure. Some medic was reported missing, works in the prison.” He walked them to the exit. “Did Helianth get home in one piece after the ceremony?”
His cousin, and Moargan’s younger brother, had been badly injured during a recent kidnapping. Attica, a group of rebels, were responsible, and had been put to trial tonight.
Moargan closed the buttons of Cyprian’s coat. “He did. He’ll be feeling much better in a few days. There.” He dropped a kiss on Cyprian’s forehead. “No more worrying. And you, come for drinks soon. I could use the entertainment.”
“Sure thing.” Kylix watched them leave. His smile fell the moment they were out of sight.
It was obvious Mirel was Dariux, but he had hoped to have more time alone. Now, with Cyprian’s physical reaction to Mirel, he had to be fast.
And he didn’t even know what it was he truly wanted.
Perhaps he should have told them about his captive.
He turned up the stairwell, each step heavy with possession, with more need. By the time he reached the Waltr, blood had pumped south and his body felt taut.
Perhaps not.
6
Mirel had fallen asleep.
In the faint light of the sky, lit by a few stars and nearby planets, he looked breakable.
Or perhaps not.
Kylix grinned as he took in the scene. The chain was taut where his little ghost had tried to reach the food and water. He must have fallen asleep trying.
He circled him, watching from every angle the glass returned.
The reflections multiplied him. In one panel he was calm. In another, ruthless. Between them lay something almost human. Kylix studied each image as soldiers study a weapon, searching for fault, admiring the cut. The Waltr threw back every version, each one lit by a separate shard of glow. He wondered which one Mirel would see on waking, the savior, the captor, or the fire that had chased him here.
He touched the glass. Steam marked his palm before it cooled. The air smelled of copper and apple, of night held still.
Six reflections watched him. Six versions of a ruined angel locked in hunger. Blond hair spread across the floor, features fine enough to cut. A jaw shaped by famine.
That would change.
Kylix stood longer than he meant to, letting the silence build. The Waltr was made for this. Every scrape of breath came back louder. He heard Mirel’s pulse before he saw it, beating at the hollow of his throat, small and fast. Kylix’s own heartbeat answered, slower, heavier.
Between beats, the Waltr seemed to breathe. Heat drew outward, then folded back, a slow inhale that made the glass hum. Every shift of Mirel’s body rippled through the reflections. Kylix listened for it the way priests listen for prayer. The silence waited to be filled, and he found himself speaking into it without sound, a confession made through pulse alone.
Mirel murmured in his sleep. His lips stayed parted.
Heat gathered low in Kylix’s body. The sight of it, that unguarded mouth, helpless and open, struck deeper than any word. He imagined pressing a finger there to see if he would swallow even in dreams. He imagined holding fruit to that mouth until instinct forced him to take it. He imagined biting him awake, jeweled teeth at his throat until his eyes opened wide.
“Even asleep you fight me.” Kylix crouched low. His hand hovered a breath above Mirel’s throat, not touching. Heat alone made the skin damp. “Good. I’ll wake you hungry. We’re only done when I say so.”
