Page 13 of Burning Ice
But when Mirel trembled, something moved under his skin. The sound of it drew him closer.
He stayed where he was. The chain tightened each time the boy breathed. Kylix listened to the scrape of metal against floor. It pleased him. Proof that obedience could make its own music.
“Told you it wasn’t that hard, little one,” Kylix said, voice low and satisfied. “Now. Let’s begin.”
The air changed. Frost spread where blood touched glass. A thin line, white against the dark.
Kylix crouched. His reflection wavered beside Mirel’s.
“Good,” he said. “You remember how to answer.”
He stood. “Let’s see how long you can hold it.”
The frost kept moving after he spoke. It made a soft crack, quiet as breath.
5
His little ghost looked wrecked. Pale hair, dulled gold, hung uneven around his face, strands matted with sweat. His eyes, bright and hot, were too large in the hollows of a starved face. He had lean shoulders and sharp cheekbones, jutting collarbones. His shirt clung torn and damp, frayed at the hem.
Kylix looked at his feet. His boots were outworn. How the hell had he been able to run on those?
“You want to eat. I can see it. Your entire body is trembling.”
The words made Kylix’s pulse jump, his chest clench with that same feeling that had chased this Wastelander all the way to the graveyard for a loaf of bread.
Interesting.
“Here’s my problem, little one. I don’t know who you are. So far, you have stolen bread, run away from me, and when I confronted you, you fought me.”
His captive shivered, shaking his head, as if he didn’t agree. He swallowed, but no words came out.
“I know you can talk. I heard you beg me.”
And it had been the sweetest sound in the world.
Kylix frowned at the sudden thought.
“I’ve got fresh bread here. Fresh fruit. Tell me, when’s the last time you ate grapes?” He plucked one from the basket and threw it into his mouth, humming when he licked the sweetness away.
His captive shuddered. The Waltr reflected him in glass, six reflections slumped in a circle, each thinner than the last. He wasn’t beautiful in any safe sense. He was a relic, fragile and furious, trembling and unbowed.
He looked a few years younger than Kylix, early twenties. Platinum blond hair curled around his head in untamed strands. He looked small, as if hunger had cut years away. Lips parted quickly, trembling for the bread.
Kylix inhaled deeply. It was that fear he craved. It was what the Dariux in him needed. The artificial injections he had received as a child had granted him special gifts, his fire element, his need to hunt, his desire for fear.
Kylix was loved by Helions. As head of the Luminary, he was responsible for security on their planet. He’d been in charge of chasing Attica, the rebel organization who’d left ruin and death in their wake, and bringing them to heel.
And he had. But not even he could ignore that this boy, this frail, trembling beauty, had helped him wrap up the case. He’d frozen the rebels before Kylix could get to the crime scene and had therefore saved his cousin Helianth’s life.
Kylix studied him the way he studied fire, in awe. Every twitch of his jaw drew Kylix deeper. Every fast swallow pulled him in.
And he didn’t know why.
Not even he had a reason to keep him here.
Which was why he had to be fast.
Kylix threw another grape in his mouth. “Hmm. They’re so good. Are you sure you don’t want to try?”
