Page 66 of Mistress of Lies

“Maybe,” Samuel said. “Maybe not. It doesn’t really matter, though. Whatever you might have been, you are still a remarkable woman.”

Shan laughed—a real, sudden laugh that left him breathless. “Blood and steel, Samuel. I see I don’t have to worry about you. Soon you’ll be charming all of Dameral.”

“I’m not trying to be charming,” Samuel stammered. “I really mean it.”

“I know you do.” Shan refused to look at his face, instead focusing on pulling the needle from his arm. She swept away the needle and tube, and while she was distracted he carefully swiped the ribbon she had left on the table. He palmed it and slipped it into his pocket.

“What now?”

“Put stoppers on four of the vials,” she instructed. “Leave the last open. We’ll need it.”

He did as she instructed, carefully sealing away most of the blood she had drawn. The last was left sitting open in front of him, and he stared into the pool of his own blood until Shan returned to his side.

“Drink it,” she ordered, and he looked up at her in surprise. “It’s how we access the power. In consuming the blood, we can gain access to the very life it holds.”

“This is pointless,” he said. “I tried the tests as a child. I never could do it.”

“Maybe,” Shan said with a shrug. “Maybe not. But whatever the case, I need to know if you can access it at all. Blood Working is difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t have the power, but if you can get even a sense of it, that will help. Even the barest bit of power from the barest bit of blood. Indulge me.”

“All of it?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry.

“Yes.” She smiled at him. “Or can you not? It’s something that children do in the Academy all the time. You cannot be afraid.”

“Disgusted, more like.” He snatched the vial and tossed it back, the taste of his own blood heavy on his tongue. It had only been out of his body for a few moments, but it was already viscous, sliding down his throat and making him shudder.

Shan watched him the whole time, her eyes never leaving his lips. “What do you feel?”

“Nauseated?” She smacked his arm, and he bit back a laugh. “All right, all right.” He closed his eyes, waiting for something—anything—that felt like magic. He could still taste the blood on his lips, copper and salt, but he felt none of the power that Shan had promised him. Something was stirring inside him, though, something like his gift, but it was faint. It was a treacherous, fragile thing that kept slipping through his fingers whenever he tried to grasp it. “It’s like—there’s almost something? Am I doing it wrong?”

Shan reached out, her thumb tracing its way across his mouth, spreading the blood that still lingered there. “This might seem weird,” she said, “but I swear it’s for the magic.” She gently pulled him towards her and sucked his lower lip between her teeth, her tongue lapping across it and wiping away every last drop.

It was the most exquisite torture.

“Hells, Shan,” Samuel said, pulling back from her as his head spun and lust shot through him, an insistent thrum in his veins. “Warn me next time.”

But Shan wasn’t paying attention to him, her eyes were wide and unfocused. “That is odd.” Grabbing the same needle she had used on him, she pricked her own finger and held it out to him. “Here.”

Samuel’s vision narrowed to the small bead of red on her fingertip. “You can’t mean—”

“Come on,” she said, exasperated. “Let me help you build the bridge. It works better when we both imbibe.” She leaned across the table and pressed her thumb to his mouth, pushing past his lips. His teeth caught it, and he could taste her skin and blood on his tongue.

Forcing himself to meet her eyes, he worried the wound and forced even more blood out.

“Good,” she whispered, then pulled back.

The whine that followed had nothing to do with magic.

“There,” Shan said, settling back in her seat. “Do you feel me?”

“I… uh,” Samuel spluttered, “hells.” He dug his nails into his thighs, trying valiantly to ignore the way his cock hardened. But with Shan sitting there, so alluring, the thrum of magic electric in the air, he could barely concentrate on her words. What sort of nonsense question was that? Of course he felt her. She was all he could focus on when they were this close.

Even when he shouldn’t—when he should be keeping her at arm’s length, not dancing dangerously closer to her in this game of desire.

“The bridge, Samuel.”

“Oh, right.” He closed his eyes again, ignoring the call of his own body and focusing on the tremulous connection between them. She was right—he could feel her. He ran his tongue over his teeth, focusing on the fading taste of her. It was different from his own blood—there was a headiness to it, a burn to it, like the cleanse of a strong liquor. It was rich and overpowering, just like her, threatening to overwhelm his senses and pull him under.

“There you are.”