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‘Jord,’ said Laurent, ‘this is why he fucked you. This moment.’
‘You can hit me as much as you like.’ ‘Can I? I think we’re going to enjoy each other, you and I. Tell me what else I can do to you.’
‘What you are saying is that when I lose control, I make mistakes. My uncle knows that, of course. It would have been an amusing pleasure for him to send Aimeric to work against me, you’re right. You, with your barbaric attitudes, your brutish, domineering arrogance, are always right.’
‘No, I don’t care. Tomorrow you leave. But you’re mine now. You’re still my slave tonight.’
‘You’ve seen me roused before.’ ‘And I remember what you like.’
To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up.
Stirring drowsily, Laurent shifted a fraction closer and made a soft, unthinking sound of pleasure that Damen was going to remember for the rest of his life.
Except that it was Kastor who had put the collar on him, and Laurent who was freeing him.
‘Old friend, you have come to a place where nothing is as any of us thought.’
Damen had caught his hand, entwined long fingers into his own. Laurent looked along their arms. Damen was surprised at how it felt: new, each heartbeat his first, and Laurent reshaped before him.
‘I lack,’ said Laurent, ‘the easy mannerisms that are usually shared with,’ you could see him pushing the words out, ‘a lover.’ ‘You lack the easy mannerisms that are usually shared with anyone,’ said Damen.
‘You thought of it?’ ‘You kissed me,’ said Laurent. ‘On the battlements. I thought of it.’
Laurent’s gaze was travelling over his body, and he looked in the same way that he touched, as if Damen was new territory, unexplored, that he couldn’t quite believe was under his command.
Damen’s blood thrummed with his over-awareness of Laurent. The heat of Laurent’s body in proximity was unanticipated, like the soft tickling shift of Laurent’s white shirt, specifics lacking from imagination.
Damen found himself caught in that look, held in it. Laurent had let him inside. That thought was impossible, even though he felt inside now, as though he had passed inside some crucial boundary: there was the warm space between jaw and neck, where his own lips had rested; there was his mouth, which he had kissed.
‘That was adequate.’ ‘You’ve been waiting to say that.’
After a moment he felt Laurent’s fingers lift and come to rest on his arm, curling there slightly.
