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“Good.” Her hand found his, clenching tightly. “Reach for me, Samuel.”

He did, clawing his way through the power of the blood within to draw her closer. She was reaching back towards him as well, the connection between them growing stronger and more real with each passing second.

He could feel her heart, stepping ever closer in sync with his. The slow, steady beat of it guiding him, pulling him towards a well of power he never realized he had. It was there, hidden below the darkness that had grown within him, untapped and untouched. “This is…”

“Blood Working,” Shan confirmed, wrapping her hands even tighter around his. “This is what we call the bridge. It connects two—or more—living sources of power. You can feel my magic, right?”

“Yes, you’re here with me.” He could feel her, a gentle touch across his veins, stirring his blood and his heart and his body in a way he had never known before. He breathed and she was there. His heart skipped a beat, and hers skipped with him. The power in his blood stirred in response to the power in hers, and they were somehow one.

Shan was sliding closer to him, falling off her chair and pulling him down with her. They tangled together on the floor, Shan perched on his lap, skin against skin as they pressed together. She slotted over his hips, fitting against him like she was made to be there, and Samuel had to lean back and press his hands into the floor, forcing himself to remain still when it would have been so easy for her to hold him down and grind against his aching hardness.

Wrapping her hand around his throat, Shan pressed her thumb against his pulse as the bridge between them grew stronger—a blazing path of blood that seemed as real as anything. As real as the pressure of her hand closing around his neck. If he leaned forward just a bit, Shan would cut off his breath, leaving him entirely at her mercy.

He had never wanted anything so badly in his life.

He could feel her inside him, running her fingers along the dark well of power that stirred in his chest. It woke under her touch, coming to life with the all-consuming anger and viciousness that he normally tamped down, fighting her invasion tooth and nail.

“Blood and steel,” she swore, pulling back from his embrace and his soul. “You live with this?”

“Always.”

“And is it usually this… hungry?” Her hands roved over his chest, settling over his heart, warm against bare flesh.

Samuel swallowed hard, her very touch inflaming him. His hands settled over her waist, and though she was small, he could still feel the strength in her, and he prayed she wouldn’t break, no matter what he did. “Yes, it is. I’ve been learning to fight it, to keep it in its place, but it’s underlying everything, begging to be unleashed.”

Shan trembled. “You could break anyone to your will, force them to follow you, to do whatever you asked.” She looked up at him but there was no fear in her eyes, just a hunger that had nothing to do with power. “You want to be rid of this, but you could be a god.”

“I don’t want to be a god,” he whispered, though the darkness in him stirred with possibilities. It would be so easy to let go, to unleash it. To force Shan to bend and break. To take her, make her his—utterly and completely and in every imaginable way.

Hells, that was too appealing an image, as it would be so easy to make it true. She probably wouldn’t even resist him. She probably wanted it, too, with the way she leaned against him, sharing the same breath, her hands roaming his body, like it was her due.

All he had to do was take.

He shoved her off him, leaping to his feet as he tore at his skin. He wished it was gone, that he could reach inside and grab this monstrosity and tear it out by the roots. But it wasn’t that simple.

It was as much a part of him as the very blood in his veins.

Shan caught his hands before he could break skin, stilling him with a touch. “Don’t, Samuel.”

“Do you see now why I need it gone?” he asked, the question spilling from his lips, and the pitying look she gave him tore him deep. “What it’s making me?”

“It’s not making you anything,” she said. “But I’ll keep my promise. I’ll share everything I know with Isaac.”

“Can it be removed?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s part of your Blood Working—it is your Blood Working. It’s completely taken it over and that’s why you can’t grasp it.”

Samuel huffed out a broken laugh. “So it’s hopeless.”

She shook her head roughly, her hair falling around her face. “No, don’t. Even if we don’t have an answer yet, we’ve only begun. And you’ve learned a bit about Blood Working.”

“And you’ve learned what kind of monster I am.”

Shan frowned. “Stop it.” Her fingers twined with his. “This power, it’s part of you, but it isn’t you. That you’ve resisted its call for so long is what makes you a good person. But me? I’m not one.” Her voice was soft, and she looked so terribly unsure. “I have no illusions about that.”

“Neither do I,” Samuel said, “but you’re wrong.”

“I’ve killed, Samuel.” She looked up at him, not with tears in her eyes, but with a fierce, desperate pride. “I’ve lied and cheated and blackmailed. And if I had to, I’d do it all again.”