Page 46 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)
That night, Samuel entered his bedchambers to find Shan already there, wrapped in a negligee so sheer that he could see clear through it to the skin beneath, to the fall of her breasts and the tease of her nipples, pebbling against the lace.
She lay on the chaise lounge by the fire, legs kicked out and bare, smooth and ready to be touched.
The light cast her in a luminous glow, tinting her skin a warm gold and pulling out all the rich shadows of her hair, hanging loose and free and wild around her shoulders.
She was a pretty picture of temptation, and he shifted as he felt his cock stir to life, pressing against the fall of his trousers as he came to half-hardness.
It took nothing to rile him up, just being near her got his blood surging and his flesh aching, like his body was trying to make up for all the lonely nights.
Now that he had her, he wanted her every day, multiple times a day, breaking her composure and all her careful masks with pleasure.
It was only in those moments, when she was wrecked by climax and struggling to put herself back together, that he found the truth of her.
The only moments when that fearful little voice in the back of his head didn’t whisper uncomfortable accusations, that she was using him just as much as she used everyone else.
It proved that even without the Aberforth Gift, he was not entirely without defenses. And it was addictive, knowing that he could break this proud woman if he needed to, stopping her clever mind and her endless schemes with his hands, his mouth, his cock.
But this was not the night for that, and he quickly adjusted himself, hoping to hide his body’s reaction to her.
They had things they needed to talk about, and besides, she had come to him not for seduction but comfort—he could see it in her expression, the exhaustion that she didn’t even bother to hide.
A half-smoked cigarette hung loose from her fingers, the bitter acrid smell harsh in his nose as he crossed the room to drop a gentle, chaste kiss to the top of her head.
“Rough day?” he asked, and she just turned towards him, chasing his affection like a cat, and the tenderness struck like a dagger to the heart. The knowledge this was another part of her that only he got to see—him, and perhaps Isaac.
If they could ever mend the old hurts that hung between them.
Still, it was a reminder to the dark voice in his heart that Shan was honest with him, that she was more than her schemes, looking up at him with such aching tenderness that he felt bad for even considering that she could still be lying to him.
Perhaps this was the sign he was looking for. Samuel’s heart was heavy with fear and exhaustion, and it was clear that Shan’s was too.
Perhaps together they could find a way out of this trap, before it destroyed them both.
“It’s been a tough few months,” Shan admitted, “and I am so tired.”
“Me too.” He held out a hand, and Shan looked at it for a long moment before tossing the rest of her cigarette into the fire and letting Samuel pull her into his embrace.
She was warm against his body, soft and supple, pressed against all the parts where he was hard, and he buried his face in her hair, breathing deep of the scent of roses. “We should talk.”
“Oh, is that all you want to do?” she whispered back, and he could hear the smirk in her voice as she pressed her hip against his hard length.
The pressure of it, the tease of the friction that he ached for, had a low hiss escaping his throat. But he pulled away, before he lost himself in her body again. “I mean it, Shan.”
Shan pouted, an unserious expression that took Samuel by surprise, but she relented. “At least let me pour a glass of wine.”
“Of course,” Samuel said, falling back to perch on the edge of the bed, digging gloved fingers against the sheets as he willed his body to relent.
Shan ignored him, drifting over to a pitcher that had been left out, likely at her request, pouring a glass of deep red before taking a long sip. “I don’t know what there is to talk about. This is just our lives now. We can only take it one day at a time.”
He looked her over, taking in the slump to her shoulders, the lazy way the glass hung from limp fingers.
This wasn’t artifice, even he could see that.
No, it was worse. Somewhere along the way, Shan had given up hope.
This distance between them, the way she had been carefully corralling him back to his appointed role as Lord Aberforth, it wasn’t that she had lost her way. She just didn’t see another way out.
How had Samuel missed that? He had failed her, in some quiet and infinitesimal way.
But he could still fix it.
“I’m not so sure I agree,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. Her gaze was as sharp as the claws she so often wore, but Samuel did not let himself be hurt. He just lifted one arm, offering her the spot next to him.
And, like a street cat, Shan tiptoed forward, careful and wary, before sinking onto the bed with delicate grace.
The tension lingered for a moment, and he pulled his glove off with his teeth, tossing it aside before he reached around her, bare hand pressed against the smoothness of her curves, warm through her thin shift, as he gripped her tight.
Holding her firm, grounding himself, and maybe her too, by the way her strain faded bit by bit until she relaxed against him.
“Talk to me, Samuel.”
Samuel considered his options, but he was too tired to play the game. So he said it outright. “Why didn’t you warn me about Dunn?”
Shan took a careful sip of her wine. “What about her?”
“That the King was going to appoint her to the Council,” Samuel said, just shy of snapping, the anger in him lashing out. “That she would take Holland’s place on your recommendation.”
“Ah.” Shan stared straight ahead, sipping at her wine, looking so damn exhausted that he didn’t know what to do. He just trailed off, unsure how to continue, how to explain the bone-deep hurt of this little betrayal, especially as Shan continued to look… well, not bored, exactly.
Exasperated.
“I did not think it would matter,” Shan said, tipping her head back, eyes fluttering closed as she swallowed, struggling to find the right words.
The calculation was back, and he stared at the soft flutter of her pulse in her throat, wondering if he could shake her by sinking his teeth into the tender skin, worrying it till he pulled a moan from her lips.
Until he broke the carefully constructed artifice she wore like a second skin.
Why did it always go this way, their attempts to connect glancing off each other like swords parrying in a duel? Every time he thought they got closer, she’d feint away, slipping through his fingers like water.
“It matters,” Samuel pressed. “Because you put another snake in the pit, a snake that I have to deal with.”
“She’s not a snake,” Shan said, with just a bit of frustration. “I understand that you do not like her, but she is a known quantity, someone that we can work with. She’s not a fool, she bends to reason.”
“She is just like her father!”
“Amelia is nothing like her father,” Shan snapped. “You need to trust me. There is so much that you do not know.”
And so much that she did. Shan didn’t need to remind him of that, not explicitly. Didn’t need to dig her fingers into the tender wound that still festered, the constant shame that reminded him that no matter how hard he tried, he would never truly belong.
That no matter how hard he tried, how much he learned, he would always be behind.
“You won’t always be able to guide me, Shan,” he said at last, even though it wasn’t quite what he wanted to say.
It was more diplomatic, more careful, and hells, he had really become one of them, hadn’t he?
Not smart enough, not skilled enough, to succeed on his own.
But twisted enough that he was no longer the person he used to be, that he was no longer sure if he could call himself a good man.
Not that it mattered, anymore.
Still, Shan inclined her head, acknowledging his point. A small victory, even if it tasted bitter. “You are right, Samuel, but that certainty will come with time. Besides…” She flashed him a grin, one that he was nearly certain was sincere. “You know I don’t mind helping you.”
Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, and Samuel knew that this was the moment to press. To bear his soul and fears before her, the aching raw beat of his heart as he whispered that it wasn’t failure that he feared, but the dark path that she was leading him down.
That her help was even more terrifying than her neglect.
But Shan was nuzzling his cheek now, stepping into the space between his open thighs, her body warm and oh so close.
It wouldn’t take anything at all to place his hands on the soft curve of her waist, to pull her forward so that she straddled his lap and pressed against his aching cock—to lose his worry in the warm heat beneath her thighs and the raw physicality of a hard fuck.
Perhaps they were more alike than he had realized.
Perhaps every time he had thought he was breaking down her walls, she had been manipulating him.
Distracting him with the rough stroke of her hand or the slick wetness of her mouth until he spilled, exhausted, and forgot whatever it was that he had been worrying about.
“Why don’t you just relax for a bit,” Shan breathed against his ear, hand on his shoulder to push him back against the silk sheets. But he found that he was not so easily moved, anger twisting in his stomach as something dark and forbidding stirred in his chest.
“Enough,” he snapped, as something slipped past his lips, a wisp of magic that shouldn’t exist. A gift that he had not told her had returned.
But it was there, hanging between them like a dark miasma on the night air, as the force of his command hit her hard, forcing her to flinch away, to stumble back. Her hand flew to her chest as she struggled to even breathe, realization hitting a split second behind Samuel.
He dared not even breathe as she stared at him, her eyes dark and wide. He had never seen this expression on her face before, this almost primal fear coursing through her as she shivered. As she struggled to fight as the command sank its teeth into her, a power that even she could not escape.
He wished he was wearing his claws so he could tear into his own chest, pull this gift out of him with nothing more than sheer will. But he wasn’t wearing his claws. He didn’t have the skill or the knowledge to even understand what was happening.
“Samuel,” Shan breathed at last, the power releasing her, but he shot to his feet before the question could be voiced. As if, by simply avoiding speaking of it, he could deny that it had ever happened.
“I,” he stammered, incoherent and uncaring of it, as he stumbled around the corner of the bed. “I need to…” He didn’t know what, just that he couldn’t be here.
That he couldn’t be around her, or anyone, not now that this was back.
“Samuel—” Shan reached for him, but he darted back, not daring to let himself be caught, not daring to let her touch him. Not knowing what he would do if she did.
He fled into the night, leaving her behind.