Rahil relaxed into a grin. “Now, that’s just cruel.”
“Sometimes the truth hurts.”
“I’d rather be hurt in other ways, thanks. I happen to have preferred entry points for pain and neither of them are my ears.” He winked.
Merc stared at him, stoically unamused. “You know you’re only proving my point, right?”
Rahil faked a dramatic sigh. “It shames me, and yet I can’t be stopped.” He smirked as he added, “You know, I think you’re wrong about being fae. You’re not a fairy, you’re a bear.”
Merc’s eyes narrowed. “I can make you regret that.”
“Please do.”
The flow of their conversation felt so natural that as Merc leaned toward him, Rahil thought, just for a moment, that the fae smith intended to kiss him. The press of the holy silver to his neck shuddered him out of the delusion. Of course Merc wasn’t looking at his mouth—not for anything sexual, anyway. But the fleeting hope was enough to drag a groan out of Rahil, his lips tingling with unsated want.
It made it all the worse as Merc asked. “How does that feel?”
“Like my world is coming apart,” Rahil muttered, closing his eyes and imagining the sensation was more than merely scientific. “Fuck.”
“Fuck?” Merc asked, clinically.
“Yes, please,” was all Rahil managed as Merc drew the silver along the front of his throat, the experimental slide of it paired with the pressure of two fingers to the side of his neck—two fingers like vampire fangs, Rahil thought, except instead of venom, it was the fae’s microscopic power bleeding through him, sensing some shift within his cells. Feeling him on a level no one ever had before.
“So, it’s sensual then?” Merc sounded mildly quizzical, and despite all of Rahil’s expectations, he didn’t pull away, seeming to accept Rahil’s attraction without participating in it himself.
That was better than nothing—and as much as he yearned for the full thing, he forced himself to admit that this was, in fact,best. If Rahil could benefit from Merc’s touch and gaze and the pressure of his holy silver without worrying that he was dragging the smith into something that would ultimately destroy him, perhaps they could both get out of this intact. If he could push Merc for more.
That push couldn’t entail lying to him, though.
“The feeling of the holy silver itself isn’t sensual,” Rahil admitted, “I think that’s, uh, your presence in it. The pure sensation is just a tingling, and I can feel some of the strength leaving my body, but when you place your hands like that…”
“Hmm.” Merc narrowed his eyes on the skin between his touch and the holy silver, pressing just a little harder. “I can sense a molecular shift in your cellular makeup, but a constructive one, not a destructive one.”
Rahil swallowed, trying not to squirm with delight against the cords that held him. “In my cells?”
“I’ve no biological training and the body is infinitely more complex than the simple metals and glasses I typically work with; the knowledge is more of a feeling than anything.” He withdrew his fingers, like the touch had meant nothing.
Rahil knew he’d have the phantom sensation of it for days yet, a pinch of ecstasy left behind.
“But I think I can use it,” Merc continued, putting the holy silver back on the table. “If you still feel content to help me? With one word, you can shut this project down. I wasn’t making any progress before you, and I’m not even certain I’ll make anywithyou, either.”
Shut this project down, he said.
This project, which was Rahil.
He tried to remind himself that there could be so much more at stake here than his own selfish desire for Merc’s attention, but Merc’s intentions were for good. He was genuinely trying to help vampires, not harm them. And if he could help support one particular vampire’s fantasies while he was at it… Saying no would be safe, but it would be an end to this. And saying yes—well. Rahil imagined days or weeks of feeling Merc’s fingertips on him, of getting to watch him work, catch his gaze, his scent, his attention from across the room. Rahil thought he’d have done anything for that. “My body is yours. Conduct all the experiments you want.”
“Your flirting truly is horrendous,” Merc replied.
Perhaps it should have hurt him to continue being insulted in this manner, but instead Rahil laughed, a bubbling, joyous sound that felt foreign to his lungs. It made him breathless and lightheaded and he didn’t mind. Right now, he was pretty sure all he could care about was the little crook in Merc’s lips, a soft chuckle accompanying it.
Rahil had, technically, none of the power—except the power to invade Merc’s life, he supposed—but now that he knew what to expect of the answer, he managed to be a halfway-decent person and asked, “Should I stop the flirtation?”
Merc shrugged, though his face revealed more than simple neutrality, his friendly smile lingering. “It’s amusing. So long as you don’t expect anything of it.”
“You did swipe right on me,” Rahil teased. “Though I suppose you ghosted me after, which should have been a sign?”
“You were confused whether the ghosting was metaphorical or metaphysical. I understand.”
