Page 452 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

It’s burning him alive.

Vasily says something he can’t understand, could only know Russian when he had Julian Penhalyx inside him and he’s gone now, dead.

His brother is dead.

Riley cries, weak and pathetic, he waits for death.

But then Vasily Sorrenko is putting his face to his neck, arranging him just so and he says, ‘Bite down, then. Is OK. I say yes.’

He cups the back of Riley’s head, free hand making those soothing circles. His touch is intoxicating.

Kindness even more so.

But Riley’s body needs a replacement promise.

Family. Kin. A bond to cling to.

So he bites down.

His teeth aren’t like Lachlan’s when he last saw them.

They’re human and blunt, so he really has to try to break Vasily’s skin, but it gives after a few seconds, a blush of blood against his lips.

He’s fading fast when Vasily puts his own mouth to Riley’s neck, right over the strange bruise, and bites into it.

The effect is instant.

A lightning strike of silver and gold.

It makes a rope, a river, a ringing bell of connection between them.

What is Riley Harker welcomes all that is Vasily Sorrenko in a connection too big to understand in the moment.

All he understands of what he feels is… safe.

Home.

Wanted.

The word reaches him first. Then the meaning. Then himself.

The frenzy loosens one fibre at a time, every instinct unthreading from the next. The fire in his blood cools, his organs settle into their proper places. Riley breathes a real breath.

It enters sore lungs and leaves them without becoming a sob.

Vasily’s mouth lifts from his neck, but his arms remain around him.

Not trapping. Not claiming. Simply there.

Riley feels the promise he chose to give.

It’s here inside him. Bond.

His forehead rests against Vasily’s shoulder. He tastes Vasily on his tongue. Salt, iron, rainwater. Heaven and home.

The bond hums between them, vast but quiet.

It doesn’t drag.