Page 66 of Burning Ice
Kylix’s nostrils flared. He smelled fear on him, sharp and metallic, a thing that twisted between pity and want. “Good,” he said finally. “Because you’re not theirs to want.”
He half-pushed him toward the car, the motion protective and furious. Outside, shouts echoed, metal clanged, boots stamped, authority stitching the night back together.
“Stop talking like that,” Kylix muttered. “You don’t belong in that dirt.”
Mirel’s lips moved again, barely sound. “I just wanted?—”
“Enough.” Kylix caught his chin. “Look at me.” His grip tightened, forcing those trembling eyes upward. “You don’t belong anywhere but here. You understand?”
Mirel nodded. His breath broke into a soft whimper that scraped his throat raw.
Kylix exhaled, reached into his coat and drew a narrow vial of silver glass. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, catching the blue pulse of his heat. He unsealed it with a soft hiss and pressed it to Mirel’s lips.
“Drink,” he said. “It’s for your throat. I had it made for you.”
Mirel blinked, uncertain, but obeyed. The liquid burned cool as it slid down, coating his throat until the ache eased.
Kylix’s anger didn’t fade, but the sound of his next breath softened. “Keep it,” he said roughly. “You’ll need it, the way you talk back.”
Mirel’s mouth trembled in something close to a smile.
Kylix’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes. “Get in,” he said. “Now.”
They climbed inside. The door sealed behind them, cutting off the last echo of the sirens.
Inside the hover car, the noise fell away. The hum of the engine replaced the alarms, low and steady beneath their breathing.
Kylix leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed ahead. “I had to come here to save you,” he said, voice tight. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
Mirel glanced sideways, throat still raw. “S-sorry.”
“Sorry.” Kylix gave a humorless laugh, the sound scraping out of him. “You think I left a mission for fun? You think I enjoy storming through smoke because you can’t stay put for one night?” He exhaled hard, fingers tightening against his thigh. “Stars, Mirel… you drive me mad.”
“I thought?—”
“No.” Kylix cut him off, softer but sharper. “You didn’t think. You just ran.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
Kylix turned then, eyes sharp in the red light of the cabin. “No. But I came anyway. Because apparently you need saving from yourself.”
Mirel swallowed, eyes wet again. “You shouldn’t have.”
Kylix’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Too late.”
He shifted closer, the air tightening. “Now you’ll make it up to me.”
Mirel blinked, startled. “What do you mean?”
“You cost me time. You cost me calm. You think I’ll let that slide?”
“I didn’t?—”
“Shh.” Kylix’s hand brushed down his throat, the heat of his skin chasing the chill there. “You’ll make it up to me tonight.” His words came like a promise and a threat in one. “You’ll remind me why I keep saving you.”
The city slid by in streaks of red and gold. Neon bled across the hover glass, painting Kylix’s reflection in hard, beautiful lines. Below, Helion’s lower streets pulsed with life, crowds and smoke, all of it far beneath them. Inside the car, only heat and breath existed.
“You keep looking at the door,” he said quietly. “Thinking you could run.”
