Page 69 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Isaac

I saac stood looking out the window, his heart breaking as he listened to Samuel’s tale.

How he had waited only until night had fallen before he had stolen across Dameral, slinking into the safe house like a cat in the shadows.

There, he had found Isaac, spilling everything he had seen, from the King’s experiments to his plans for the Guard and then, finally, Shan.

Brilliant, bold, foolish Shan. He had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, but—damn it all.

“What do we do?”

“We launch our attack as soon as possible,” Isaac said, with a shrug. “We can’t give the King the time to create more elite soldiers.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Isaac turned back to Samuel, who sat on the chaise, shoulders tucked in like he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

He looked like he had been through hell, his face unshaven, light stubble budding across his jaw, hair pulled back in a half-hearted attempt at a bun.

But Isaac ignored all that, his gaze dropping to the silver ring in Samuel’s hands, the ruby like a drop of blood, worrying it endlessly.

He had seen that ring on Shan’s hand, had known that the bond between her and Samuel had grown stronger during his time in prison. And though they couldn’t openly claim Isaac, not with the King and half of the country wanting his head on a platter, he had been supportive of them. Happy for them.

He sank down next to Samuel on the couch, putting his arm around his shoulder and pulling him close. Samuel melted into the embrace, always so eager for affection, and Isaac’s heart broke a little more.

Damn it, Shan. He understood the tension between them. That was something they had been navigating for years. Clashing and fighting and pushing and loving, and if the stakes weren’t as high as they were, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He could forgive Shan for her transgressions against him—they had hurt each other so many times over. But breaking Samuel’s heart? Sweet, precious Samuel, who deserved none of the cruelty that they had brought into his life.

That was unforgivable.

“I never wanted you to have to pick a side,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of Samuel’s head.

“I had to,” Samuel replied, though his words were muffled against Isaac’s chest. “I couldn’t… live with myself otherwise.”

“You’re too good for this,” Isaac begun, only to be cut off as Samuel tilted his head up, pinning him with a single look, stealing whatever kind platitudes he had right out of his mouth.

Samuel roughly pushed himself upwards, swinging his legs over to straddle Isaac’s lap, placing his hands on the couch over his shoulders. Pinning him in place as his eyes flashed with a rage so bright, so strong, that Isaac wanted to drown in it.

“Don’t. I’m not the good man you think I am,” Samuel hissed, and something dark and dangerous slipped out with his words. A power that Isaac remembered all too well, creeping into his body, stealing his very will away. A power that Isaac had failed to take from him, now come back to the surface.

It was a reversal of their usual dynamic, but Isaac couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as he placed his hands on Samuel’s waist. It wouldn’t take anything to crush it between his fingers, to let the ache in his fingers expand into claws, tearing through his flesh to all the sweet viscera beneath.

Samuel was right. They had both changed in some fundamental way, the men they used to be washed away in the blood they had shed. Goodness had been left behind long ago, and now they were flawed creatures who would do anything to save this foolish home of theirs.

No matter who they lost along the way.

“No, you’re not a good man,” Isaac agreed. “But you’re perfect, nonetheless.”

He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, which one of them closed the distance, but Samuel’s mouth was on his, his hands tangled in his curls, pulling him back as he held him in place.

Kissing him with a ferocity that Isaac never knew Samuel could possess, rough and sloppy.

Samuel didn’t even grant him a moment’s relief, and that wouldn’t do at all.

If Samuel wanted him so badly, then that is what he would get.

Isaac caught Samuel by the throat, holding him up with his preternatural strength, pressing back so that he cut off the other man’s breath.

Samuel trembled in his grip, completely helpless.

It was obscene, holding his lover like this, but Isaac spared a quick glance down to see his lover’s cock was hard, tenting his trousers as he choked, lovely pale skin turning red as he scrabbled uselessly at Isaac’s hand.

“What do you need from me?” Isaac breathed, relaxing his hold enough for Samuel to gasp for air.

“Your worst,” Samuel spat. “Give me your worst. Hurt me until I… until I don’t feel bad anymore.”

Oh, Samuel.

He had seen this need in him long ago, the way he had craved this debasement, this surrender. His entire life, Samuel had known nothing but the cage of his remarkable self-control, a good man struggling against the wickedness that lay within. And he was so, so tired of fighting.

They may have lost Shan, but they still had this—they still had each other. And he would give Samuel whatever he needed, because there was no one else who could.

“I’ll give you what you ask for,” Isaac promised, sealing it with a delicate kiss. “But promise me that you’ll tell me to stop when you need it. Pick a word so that I’ll know.”

Samuel licked his lips, hesitant, but then he whispered, “Eternal.”

The thing he feared the most, the monster he feared that he could one day become. It was macabre, but Isaac understood it.

“All right then.” He let go, and Samuel crashed to his knees before him, landing with a thud. “Crawl to the bed.”

Samuel hurried to obey, his head ducked low as he moved through the flat. Isaac stalked after him, a test of his own determination. Samuel wanted him at his worst, but needed him at his best, and for this, he would sublimate his own needs, his own hungers.

“Undress,” Isaac commanded, as Samuel came to a stop at the foot of the bed, “but do not touch yourself.”

Samuel hurried to obey, but Isaac stepped right past him, stripping as he headed for the dresser where he hid his little gift: a glass phallus, harness, and bottle of lubrication that he had foolishly gone out to purchase.

It had been an unreasonable risk, at the time, but now Isaac felt justified—he had the tools to give Samuel exactly what he needed.

It took him a couple of minutes to pull the harness on, adjusting the way it hung over his hips and settling the glass phallus in place.

Blood and steel, he had missed this in a way he never could fully articulate.

Though he had learned to be comfortable in his body, had welcomed the changes that his treatments had brought him and learned all the ways to bring himself pleasure, there was something about a strap that made him feel complete.

Hanging heavy between his legs, a part of him that he didn’t always feel like he was missing, but was still a puzzle piece sliding into place.

He dropped the phallus, gripping the edge of the dresser with both hands as he sucked in a harsh breath through clenched teeth.

Denial was its own form of pleasure, and he would not let himself fall over the edge too soon.

Turning back to Samuel, he saw that the other man understood the lesson as well, having stripped himself naked and kneeling at the foot of the bed, back straight and head bowed.

He was so handsome like this, chest heaving with each breath as his skin flushed so pretty, excitement painted across his skin in shades of pale red.

His cock hung heavy between his legs, reaching towards his stomach as his flushed tip dripped with anticipation, twitching as Isaac stepped closer.

“Good boy,” Isaac purred, running his fingers through Samuel’s hair, knocking it loose from its bun so he could tangle it in his hand.

Pulling gently, he tilted Samuel’s head back so that he could look into his eyes, the pupils blown so wide that they nearly swallowed the green. “Needy little thing.”

Samuel panted, arching into his grip, and Isaac dragged him up. “Hands and knees on the bed.” He watched as Samuel got into position, the curve of his ass and the heavy weight of his sack, balls tight as his erection bobbed, leaking a single drop onto the rough sheets.

Isaac stepped into place behind him, dropping the vial on to the mattress before manhandling him into place, spreading his knees then pressing against Samuel’s back as he lowered him into position, face pillowed on his arms and ass in the air.

Drawing a hand back, Isaac delivered an open palm smack against the meat of Samuel’s arse, the clap of skin against skin filling the room as Samuel groaned. “Hells,” he swore, but still he pressed himself back, asking for another.

Well, if he was that eager for it—

Isaac spanked him again, this time on the opposite side, before starting a rough series of smacks, alternating sides until the skin was a rosy red, warm under his touch, and Samuel was sobbing the sheets, a mess of tears and moans.

Smirking, Isaac stopped, dragging the tips of his fingers against the inflamed skin, the nails sharpening just enough to bite.

One day, he would take his claws to his beloved, carving him open and healing him again, and Samuel would enjoy it, the way pain and pleasure curled together in an unrelenting spiral.

But for tonight, Isaac could tell that Samuel was far too close, and when he came, he would come with Isaac inside him.

Samuel bucked back against him, babbling nonsense, but he grabbed his waist, holding him in place. “Easy now, let me prepare you.”

Clenching the sheets, Samuel stopped trying to fight back, going lax under Isaac’s hands. “I’ll be good. I promise.”