Page 36 of Bonds of Blood
“I just wanted to say — I’m not sorry.”
My eyebrow hitched all the way up my head. “Really weird way to start.”
“No, no, you’re right. I suppose I was wrong about you, hating you all this time because of what I thought was nepotism, you and your famous father. I’m not sorry for assuming that.”
The sigh came rushing out of me, so deep and exhausted. “We really, really don’t have to do this, Evander.”
“Oh, I know. And I don’t care. Keep listening.”
He flipped his hair. I resisted the urge to sock him in the mouth.
“Turns out your father’s a prick,” he continued. “My father was a prick, too. But we’re not pricks, Locke. You and me? We might be assholes, but we’ll never be assholes like our fathers. Remember that.”
I blinked. As rude and as horribly phrased as it was, oddly, it helped to hear that. “Thanks, man. I think.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” he said, hobbling away down the corridor. He stopped, turning over his shoulder. “Oh, and Locke? If you ever go full Baylor? Just know that I’ll be there to stop you. Kill you, if I have to. I don’t think we’ll ever be really friends, but I trust that you like and hate me enough to do the same, if the time comes.”
I chuckled. “More than happy to kill you with my bare hands, Evander. If the time comes.”
“Sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Now hurry along, Locke. Your big, meaty boyfriend is still waiting to pound you six ways to Tuesday.”
Asshole. Strange way to end the night, but sure. At least it was honest, and weirdly insightful. I stalked double-step back to the bedchambers, more eager than ever to see my boyfriend and his big meat.
A hand shot out of the darkness, clamping over my mouth. I screamed, but the fingers closed off the sound. Another hand pulled me into the alcove. I struggled, kicked into the shadows, then stopped when Sylvain let out a hushed, plaintive “Ouch.”
“Sylvain,” I muttered, my words muffled through his fingers. “What the hell are you doing?”
“We’ve never done it,” he mumbled back, carefully removing his hand from my mouth. “Out here, in the corridor.”
“Are you kidding? Someone could see.” Even as I argued, I could feel my cock stirring, feel myself get excited over the taboo of it all. “I’m not — I’m not going to let you fuck me against this wall right here.”
He chuckled under his breath, a rough, rasping sound. “We don’t always have to fuck, little human. It could be as simple as this.”
I gasped when his hand slipped into my pants, straight down my underwear, massaging and kneading my cock. A whole evening of puddled warmth side by side, with cocktails and wine still buzzing in our blood? Yeah. This wasn’t going to take long for either of us.
“We could get caught,” I said, trembling, thoroughly enjoying the roughness of his hands against my body. As if I could resist him.
“Perhaps getting caught can be a good thing,” he answered, hissing when my hand slipped down his front.
Down it went past his waistband, reaching for the thickness of him, the length of him. I stroked slowly, his cock already slick from excitement. He pushed. I pulled. He flipped me over, shoved me against the cold rough of the stone wall. I half gasped, half laughed at the ache, at his bravado, knowing he would still handle me softly even as he smashed me against the wall, as delicate as a pressed flower.
“Love you,” he whispered. “Like this. In our chambers, on the bed, in this darkness. Love you, Lochlann. Always.”
“Love you,” I hissed back, thrusting against him, into the tight circle of his fist. “Fucking always.”
It was so dark, and yet I could clearly see the gleaming crescent of his smile. I knew something was coming. He nipped at my throat, and in a rough, guttural growl, gave his final command. Eidolon to summoner, our roles once again reversed.
“Come for me.”
And I did, unable to refuse, unable to disobey. I embarrassed myself all over his hand, all over the inside of my pants. Sylvain grunted, bucked against me, his teeth sinking into the corner of my neck. I chuckled, throaty and low, as I felt the rush of something wet and warm against my fingers.
“Good boy,” he breathed.
He kissed me hard, laughing against my lips. We checked the halls, and when the coast was clear we ran all the way back to our bedchambers. And we went again as we stumbled toward the bathroom, as we waited for the tub to fill with water. And again in the water itself. Gods, the man was insatiable. So was I, to be fair.
We settled into bed with our bodies newly cleaned, and newly warmed from hot water, this time, no more dregs of Bruna’s delicious drinks in our blood. There was still a little talk of cocktails, though.
“I thought the Bloody Mary was unusual at first,” Sylvain said. “But I enjoyed it in the end. You couldn’t even taste the blood.”
