“Why?”
“Because he said so. His word is law. Maxwell and Hawley, too, but even they answer to him. If they ask me something, I’m supposed to tell them the truth. God will know if I don’t, and I’ll be punished.”
“Oh, killer,” Shadrach murmured, leaning in and cupping Isaac’s strong jaw. “They’ve got you all tangled up, huh?”
Isaac frowned. “No. This is how things are.”
“Says who?”
He faltered. “Says… Commander Sloan.” Isaac’s walls were so far down he seemed strangely vulnerable, his eyes wide and his expression open.
“Has his word always been the law you follow?”
“Since I joined the guild.”
“And what happens if you disobey?”
“I’m punished.”
“How?”
Isaac’s hands fisted in his lap. “It depends on the crime.” His eyes cooled, and Shadrach sought a different subject to keep him from clamming up.
“Tell me how it felt earlier when I used my teeth on your cheek.”
Isaac’s nostrils flared. “Strange.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“In a strange way.”
Shadrach chuckled. “Concise.”
He sighed. “I don’t know. People don’t get that close to me.”
“Oh? Can I get that close to you now?” He leaned in eagerly. “Your hands are free. Stop me if you want.”
Isaac didn’t move, tipping his head back to give him room as Shadrach nosed along his jaw. It was a shame he wasn’t actually in the room. He longed to fill his lungs with Isaac’s pomegranate and sea salt scent. His fingers curled around Isaac’s other side, cradling the hinge of his jaw and behind his ear. When his teethscrapedalong his jawbone, Isaac’s hands shot out, grabbing Shadrach’s wrists.
“This is a dream,” he said suddenly. “This isn’t real.”
“Correct. You can do whatever?—”
A sharp sensation, not quite pain, filled his abdomen. He stood, looking down calmly at his middle, where a holy blade protruded.
Isaac laughed, slapping his knees and standing. Because it was a dream, and one of Isaac’s doing, Shadrach’s blood was crimson. It was an eerie sight, to watch human-looking blood spilling out of his abdomen as Isaac pulled his sword free. Therewas no pain, because it wasn’t a real blade, but Shadrach was nonplussed nonetheless.
“Beautiful,” Isaac said, ripping Shadrach’s shirt open and passing his hands through the red. Buttons from his shirt flew across the room, disappearing beyond the haze of the constructed room.
Shadrach smiled, slow and wicked. “You’re fun.”
Isaac frowned. “You’re not dying.”
“Dream, remember?”
Isaac stared. Shadrach dragged his finger through the blood and lifted it to Isaac’s mouth, pressing it inside and grinning when Isaac’s lips automatically closed around it, sucking. His eyelids fluttered, and a pulse of heat went down Shadrach’s spine.
He yanked Isaac forward, waving the gushing wound in his stomach away as their teeth clashed. The blade disappeared as they scrabbled at one another, and Shadrach pushed Isaac into the chair once more, climbing into his lap and rocking against him. Isaac was as hard as he was, and his teeth clamped down hard on Shadrach’s lip as he rocked up against him. Their mouths became slick with imaginary blood, the remembered taste of copper on Shadrach’s tongue as he plundered Isaac’s mouth.
