Page 449 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘Because we’re enemies?’

‘Because your voice,’ Vasily whispers, ‘is indescribably beautiful.’

Riley kisses him.

It’s a clumsy, inelegant thing that Vasily breaks gently from.

‘No, no.’

The rejection slices his insides open. Riley whines.

It wasn’t his first kiss and if they fuck it won’t be his first time.

He sneaks away from the Tower on occasion, has done for years. It helps to minimise the fever-need that comes around every three months.

But even so, he worries it wasn’t a good kiss.

‘Sorry.’

‘No sorry, just… we’re not going to do that.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you don’t want it.’

‘I do. I do want it.’

‘Not when the sun rises.’

Riley nods, trying to respect it, trying not to die because the man who won him doesn’t want him, trying to be in control, in command, but the fucking grip this thing has on his nervous system is insane.

‘OK.’

‘Cuddles.’

‘Yeah,’ he breathes, nosing his way to Vasily’s neck to see his pulse points. ‘Cuddles.’

‘That is not cuddles.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘I suppose is OK.’ He then snorts. ‘I know I am very pretty.’

He’s saying it sarcastically, but Riley doesn’t see how. Vasily is painfully beautiful, and his baritone is miles deep under Riley’s skin.

And his scent… oh, that’s the best and worst part of him.

Salt, cedar, fresh moss and rainwater.

It’s mouthwatering.

Unparalleled.

Riley wonders… ‘What do I smell like to you?’

‘Smell?’

‘Yeah.’