Page 58

Samuel stared down at his hands, suddenly imagining a life where he didn’t have to be so careful all the time. Where he could allow himself to let loose, to be free for just a moment. “You can take what you need,” he said, rolling his sleeve up past his elbow.

“Thank you. Now hold still.” Isaac grabbed a long, thin bolt of cloth from the table and wrapped it around his arm, pulling it tight. Samuel hissed in surprise, and Isaac shot him a comforting look before running his fingers across his veins, tracing the dark lines that stood out in stark relief against his skin. His touch was hot—burning almost—and Samuel wanted to lean into it.

Instead, he forced himself to focus on the procedure. “What’s this for?” he asked, fingering the cloth with his free hand.

“Makes the veins easier to access,” Isaac replied, grabbing the needle and tube contraption. “Be glad for it, you don’t want me stabbing around trying to find the vein.” He dropped the open end of the tube into the mouth of the first vial, then carefully pressed the needle against his skin. “This might hurt a bit,” he warned, then immediately pierced him.

Samuel grunted, instinctively flinching away, but Isaac was holding him in a firm, tight grasp, his hand large and warm around his arm. It felt strangely comforting to be held so—to be grounded and controlled—and he didn’t want Isaac to let him go.

But Isaac wasn’t paying attention to him—he was pulling the tourniquet loose, watching the flow of the blood through the tube, filling the vial. “Not so bad, right?”

“No,” Samuel managed, past suddenly dry lips. “Not bad at all.”

The first vial was nearly full, and Isaac pinched the edge of the tube shut as he moved it to the next one. “Two more should be enough, for now.”

Samuel nodded, not quite trusting his voice or control. There was something thrilling about leaving himself entirely in Isaac’s power, and he really didn’t want to think about that. So, he sat in silence, biting the inside of his cheek, until Isaac was done draining blood from him.

“There we are.” He still wasn’t looking at him, focused on pulling the needle from the vein. Tossing it onto the table, he pressed his thumb over the tiny pinprick, forcing the blood to well out. At last, he met Samuel’s gaze as he wiped away the last of the blood, his eyes dark and fierce. Isaac sucked his own thumb into his mouth.

Samuel couldn’t tear his eyes from it, from the soft press of teeth against skin, the flash of a tongue past his lips.

And then the fucker smiled at him, and Samuel realized he knew exactly what he was doing.

“And now,” Isaac said, grabbing Samuel’s arm. He could feel the tickle of something in the back of his head, the faintest connection, as the skin knitted itself back together. “All healed. Just give me a few moments to clean up and then we’ll get to the real work.”

“Right,” Samuel said, shaking himself out of his daze, slowly putting himself to rights as Isaac washed the remains of his blood away. Of course, this room had its own plumbing—the Eternal King really would spare no expense, would he? It was the kind of thing that should make him mad—that did make him mad—but he was still feeling so off-balance that he couldn’t quite muster the proper response.

Hells, this was embarrassing.

“You okay there, Samuel?” Isaac asked, suddenly appearing at his side. The knowing smile he wore made it abundantly clear that he was aware of what was going on in Samuel’s head.

“Fine,” Samuel said, scowling up at him. It did little to discourage the Royal Blood Worker. Isaac just laughed.

“All right, all right. Let’s talk magic.”

“Like that wasn’t magic,” Samuel said with a huff, and Isaac inclined his head to him.

“It’s more like alchemy when you get down to it—ah, never mind.” He ran his hand through his hair, blowing out a little huff of frustration. “That doesn’t matter now. What matters is what we’re going to do. From what I was told, what you need to practice is control.”

“Yes,” Samuel said, then started. “Wait, practice? You can’t mean for me to use it!”

“Well, yes.” Isaac cocked his head to the side. “How did you think you were going to master this gift?”

“That’s the entire point! I don’t want to use it!”

“But if you do not practice you never will have control.” Isaac grabbed him by the hands. “I know your gift frightens you but if you do not master it, it will master you.” Samuel wanted to roll his eyes at that inane bit of advice, but Isaac was rubbing soothing circles on the backs of his hands. “As I said before, I’m not afraid of your power and you shouldn’t be either.”

“But I am,” Samuel whispered. “You don’t understand—you can’t understand.”

“Then try me.”

Samuel wanted to run, to hide, but Isaac was still holding him, looking at him without fear or judgement in his eyes. He had never thought it could be like this, that someone could know about the darkness within him and not turn away. Not only that—despite the orders the King gave him, Isaac wasn’t using him for his own power or glory. He was helping him, as a friend.

Or, given the way he kept holding his hands, perhaps something more.

So he did something he never thought he’d do—he told the truth.

“It’s not simply about what I can do,” Samuel began. “The fact that I control people, or the fear that I’ll slip up. It’s deeper than that. This power is part of me. No—it lives inside me. I can feel it.” He pulled one hand free from Isaac’s, placing it over his chest. “Here. It breathes and it hungers and it pushes, and every time I give in to it, it gets harder to push it back into its cage.”