Page 107 of The Death Wish

‘Mr Mercer, where did you come from?’

Never had a pair looked so guilt ridden, but Silas cast aside any notion that this was some intimate indiscretion.

‘What’s wrong? Are you all right?’ Christ, he longed for a time when there would be no need to ask that of Pitchconstantly. ‘Are you hurt? What did they do? I knew I should not have left you.’ He reached the prince, and was stopped from saying more by a press of slender fingers to his mouth.

Pitch was warm, his eyes not exactly bright but gleaming enough, and he managed a small, wry smile.

‘Silas, stop. I am fine.’

Admittedly, he looked so. His lips were full pillows of pink flesh, shining and damp.

‘What has she given you?’ Silas spoke against the fingers that pressed at him gently. ‘Are you in pain?’

To his great surprise, Pitch nodded. ‘Some, but nothing worrisome. Jacquetta’s balm will set me right.’ He withdrew his fingers, and Silas leaned into the loss, following the closeness he coveted.

‘Were they able to repair the Cultivation?’ He touched his hand to Pitch’s belly, and with the thinness of his shirt, the tensing of muscle was evident.

‘I do not have it. Seraphiel took the simurgh, to see what can be done.’

Silas planted his hands on Pitch’s shoulders, bending his knees so he could bring them eye to eye. ‘And was he unkind with it? That can not have been easy for you.’

Pitch’s smile looked like it came easily. But Silas suspected he was working hard to make it rise. He glanced at Jacquetta, who was watching them from where she stood by an odd plant, one with garish spikes up its short trunk, and tiny white flowers clustered at its peak. For a moment he thought her about to speak, her focus firmly upon him.

‘Thank you, Jacquetta, that will be all. I’d like some time alone with Silas while we wait. If you don’t mind?’ Pitch said, catching at Silas’s trouser waistline, hooking his fingers there, urging Silas closer.

‘Are you sure, your highness? That being alone is what you wish for?’

‘Quite sure, thank you, Jacquetta.’ Pitch was precise, sharpened to a point.

Silas wore a bemused frown, glancing between the Child and Pitch. ‘What is this about?’

‘Lack of privacy,’ Pitch said, airy, intent on pressing in against Silas.

‘As you wish,’ Jacquetta agreed, though to what Silas could not say. ‘I wish you all the best, my lords.’

Silas turned from his study of Pitch’s features to look at her, but he was waylaid by another press of warm fingers.

‘Don’t mind her, my dear,’ Pitch whispered. ‘We won’t have long to be alone.’

He raised his eyes, and something in their shock of emerald gave Silas pause.

‘Are you sure everything is alright?’

Needlepoints of laughter followed. ‘Of course not. Nothing isrightabout this, silly oaf. But I’m hoping you can at least make it feel better.’

The prince rose onto his tip-toes and pressed in, covering Silas’s mouth in a feverish kiss. One which Silas opened for, and welcomed.

Pitch did not taste of his usual, particular bitter-sweetness. There was another floral hint there. The balm, he supposed, but Silas was not about to spend a fortune in time wondering. The kiss took a rather desperate turn. Silas wrapped his arm beneath Pitch’s arse and lifted him off his feet. The daemon folded his legs around Silas’s waist, hooking his ankles at his back.

Pitch’s teeth found the tip of Silas’s tongue, nipping, forceful, and Silas groaned into his mouth. He dug the fingers of his free hand into Pitch’s hair, shaping around the back of hisslender neck, the ring catching a fine strand of hair. With a soft, tantalising whimper, Pitch pulled away.

‘Let’s go outside,’ he said, hoarse and warm. ‘I want you to fuck me in the garden.’

Silas answered with a grunt more worthy of a beast than a decent man, but Pitch hardly needed an answer. He could feel Silas’s eagerness well enough.

Silas sized up the location of the doorway before returning his attention to the feverish man in his arms. He knew Pitch was passionate, and hungry for ravishment, but he’d never known him so…needy; whimpering when Silas had lifted his head to eye his way, and pressing in as though he were trying to bury beneath Silas’s skin.

It was glorious to know he was making this creature come apart in his arms, but terrifying, too. For Silas felt the desperation in Pitch’s want; and understood it well.