Page 40 of Burning Ice
Kylix’s free hand stroked his thigh while his finger kept moving inside him, coaxing and claiming at once. Mirel’s breath shattered. His mind went white under the rush of heat and wet and the obscene sounds of pleasure. He could not stop the tremor or the helpless noise that tore out as Kylix worked him with mouth and hand, unrelenting.
When he came, it broke him open. Mirel’s howl split the air.
Kylix swallowed and moaned into it, then lifted his head and grinned. “You look sweet when you come.”
He knelt between Mirel’s thighs, his own cock slick and hard. Mirel’s eyes caught on it, held, his breath still unsteady.
“Can I touch?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Kylix smirked. “By all means, finish what you started.”
Mirel’s hand found him, unsure at first, then certain. Kylix’s body arched into the touch, strong and beautiful. His moans grew rough. His hips drove into the rhythm. The sight held Mirel fixed. Heat lived behind Kylix’s eyes. His jeweled incisor caught light as his release came hot over Mirel’s hand.
The storm ebbed. Kylix leaned into him, breath harsh, mouth finding Mirel’s in a wet, slow kiss that burned more than it soothed.
“Here. For your hand.” A damp cloth pressed into Mirel’s palm. Kylix shifted to lie beside him. “Now we sleep. Tomorrow will be a big day.”
The room settled. The lamp hummed. The frost on the wall melted to thin streaks that ran down the paint. The bed dipped where Kylix had been. His skin still burned where Kylix had touched him. His hands trembled once, then stopped.
In the corner, the brass puffer released a thin breath of opium-scented vapor, its steady exhale perfuming the room like a quiet sentinel. The click of a lighter broke the quiet. Kylix lit one of the red-cinder cigarettes and drew once. The ember glowed against the dark. Smoke rose in a thin line, straight and clean. He left it burning on the table beside the bed.
Mirel lay on his side and watched the light on the ceiling. The air smelled of oil and sweat. The warmth faded slow. The cold returned and he let it.
Outside, the city’s hum thickened. Somewhere far below, sirens rose, faint through glass and distance. Mirel couldn’t tell if it was a patrol, a breach, or only the mechanical song of Helion shifting in its sleep. The sound threaded through the warmth, reminding him that the night beyond this room still hunted. Kylix would wake to it soon enough. For now, the noise faded to a rhythm, counting down the hours until morning.
He could hear Kylix breathing beside him, slow and even, the kind of calm that came after control. Mirel turned his face toward the wall. The sheet was damp against his skin, still warm where their bodies had been. He pulled it higher but didn’t move again. The lamp hummed. The city outside was quiet. His eyes stayed open, waiting for sleep that never came, until finally, he drifted off.
Sleep came in fragments. The hum of the lamp blurred with the sound of Kylix’s slow breathing. In the corner, the puffer sighed another plume of smoke, turning the air syrup-sweet.Mirel’s thoughts drifted, over the chain still on the floor, the faint imprint of Kylix’s fingers on his skin. When he closed his eyes, he saw frost veins spreading under the skin of the city, thin and endless, reaching toward something he could almost name. A light burned at the edge of it, gold and patient. He didn’t know if it belonged to Kylix, or to what waited beyond him. He only knew he would follow it when morning came.
The frost in his dream spread faster. Beneath it he felt the pulse of the city, mechanical, bright, wrong. When he reached for it, the light flickered once, red instead of gold. A heartbeat later, the frost shattered, and he woke to silence.
12
The second time Mirel woke, it was morning. Sunlight collided with the opaque glass, keeping the brightness out. As he stared outside, he wondered what time it was.
His stomach rumbled. It was probably later than he thought. But he’d slept better than he had in a very long time.
He felt warmth before breath touched his neck.
Kylix.
For a moment Mirel froze as he remembered last night’s events. Kylix had touched him, had made him come. And Mirel had made Kylix come too. It had felt amazing.
He looked around him. They were still tangled together in bed. Dark sheets lay twisted at their waists. Smoke and opium clung to the air. Morning made Kylix look almost human. His black hair fell loose over his brow. Light caught the high line of his throat. His long, dark lashes cast small shadows.
A clench tightened in Mirel’s stomach. It was the same pull he always felt near the Imperial prince, the ache to keep looking at him even through cruelty.
Safe, a voice whispered.Don’t believe it.
Next to him, Kylix shifted and rose. The silence stretched until his amber eyes opened. Mirel felt danger move under thatcalm. It was thrilling. The admission made heat crawl up his neck.
“Hi,” Mirel said.
“Hi,” Kylix echoed. “You greet me now. That’s progress.” His breath found Mirel’s ear. “How are you feeling?”
Mirel pulled the blanket tighter. “Good.”
“Was I not too rough on you?” His tone softened for a moment, the edge fading before it returned. Mirel almost believed him, and that frightened him more than the edge itself.
