Page 54 of Burning Ice
Back in Milanov’s office, he’d seen the outline of Mirel’s hard cock. He had felt his arousal. But right now, it seemed a waste to force himself through Mirel’s boundaries once more. He’d be patient, like last time. Be patient and have Mirel come to him. Desperate and hungry. And when that moment would come, Mirel would be his to take.
He pressed him into the chair. “Now you sit. And you eat.”
He kept the hand at Mirel’s shoulder until the first swallow went down. Only then did he step back. The control wasn’t a threat. It was a rule he intended to keep.
For once, his little ghost didn’t object. After the day he’d had, Mirel would be famished. Kylix sure was.
Kylix watched him from across the table. Every breath looked measured, stolen from exhaustion rather than rest. He was learning to move inside his new body, to wear power without shaking. That fragile control fascinated him more than strength ever could.
They ate near the wide glass wall, the city flickering beneath them like a field of stars. The table had already been set, bread still warm, fruit sliced clean, two glasses waiting. Kylix poured water from a dark flask, the liquid catching gold in the light.
Neither spoke at first. The quiet stretched, not awkward but new, a silence that held.
“I’m glad we’ve passed the phase of forcing you to eat,” Kylix said quietly, watching him finish his meal. The air settled between them, steadying, a fragile peace that felt both earned and impossible. When the edge of hunger faded, Kylix leaned back, resting an elbow on the chair’s arm.
Mirel had stopped eating, his hands still on the table. Kylix reached across, tracing a finger through the condensation on the glass. The movement was slow, deliberate. Then that same finger pressed against Mirel’s wrist, holding there until the pulse jumped.
He didn’t move the hand. Instead, he let heat gather beneath his touch, rising until Mirel flinched.
“Too hot?” His voice was almost kind. Mirel shook his head, though his breath stuttered.
Kylix smiled, not tenderly. He pressed harder, the temperature climbing, his thumb circling the spot until it blushed red. “Good. Don’t pull away. Let it teach you what control feels like.”
He leaned in, close enough that his breath grazed Mirel’s ear. “Do you know what I like best about you? You don’t break easy. You freeze. And every time you do, I want to see how long it takes before you melt.”
Mirel’s lashes fluttered. The table between them felt smaller, air heavier. Kylix’s laugh came low, rough with pleasure. He lifted the pressure just enough for cool air to sting the heated skin. “See that?” he murmured. “Cruelty isn’t punishment, little ghost. It’s attention.”
Kylix lit the cigarette and drew once. He held it out. Mirel took the second drag and pinched the ember dead in the rim of his glass. One lights. One extinguishes.
Mirel watched the ember travel to Kylix’s mouth and back again, the orange bead riding the dark between them. He felt the heat of Kylix’s exhale on his own lower lip. The taste rose with it, spice and ash, too close to the taste that had filled his mouth the night before. He had swallowed that too. His cheeks warmed. Kylix noticed. His gaze dropped to Mirel’s mouth and held there, patient, pleased.
“Again,” Kylix said, and did not move the cigarette.
Mirel leaned forward and drew. Smoke slid over his tongue. Kylix’s hand came up, thumb under Mirel’s chin, a small lift that turned the drag into obedience. When Mirel released the breath, Kylix breathed it in, eyes half-closed, as if the air itself belonged to him once it left Mirel’s body.
“Better,” Kylix murmured. “You remember how to open.”
“It doesn’t leave,” Mirel murmured. His throat moved, but no sound came out. Then, quieter still, “Just quiet. Just like... today.”
“Good,” Kylix said. “Quiet means you are learning where to put the noise.”
Mirel’s brows pulled in. “Do you ever stop?”
“Stopping is for men who hand their pulse to others,” Kylix said. “You will not. Not with me. You will hold it until I tell you to let go.”
His hand returned to Mirel’s wrist, the heat a little higher than comfort. “Pain is a bell. You hear it, you decide how to answer. You answered well in that office. You did not shout. You did not beg. You turned a man off like a flame and the room obeyed you.”
Mirel stared at the mark rising under Kylix’s thumb. “It felt wrong.”
“It felt right and wrong at once,” Kylix said. “That is the edge where men like us live.”
Kylix tilted his head, studying him in the low light but not interrupting.
“You?” Mirel stared back. The word rasped more than spoke. “After…”
“After my first kill?”
Mirel’s eyes flicked to the table. “Didn’t feel like me,” he whispered. “Like someone else moved.”
