In this scene, Pietas had waited all day for Cyken to arrive, and now that the man has come aboard the ship, Pietas is eager to reconnect. They're in Pietas's quarters, and they've seated themselves on a couch.
But Cyken wasn't here to reconnect, was he? No. He'd come to negotiate on behalf of his new love. The young immortal Pietas himself had created.
How utterly vexing.
With a hesitant motion, as if reaching out to a wild animal, Cyken pressed the back of his fingers against Pietas's cheek in a hand-kiss.
He leaned into the touch, and returned it. "I've missed you, Cyken."
"You haven't cut your hair."
No 'I've missed you too?' No 'I can't live without you?' No 'I need you more than air?' Or 'You are my soul's fire. Stay with me forever.' No, he got, "You haven't cut your hair." Cyken might as well have stabbed him.
The man picked up a strand of Pietas's hair and rubbed it between fingers and thumb. "I'm glad you kept your hair long. Such pure platinum. I like it down. Always have." Luc released him and sat back.
Pietas only cut it in preparation for battle; he'd worn it long far less than he'd like. "I'll cut it for the ritual when I judge your Changeling."
Cyken's visage remained impassive and unreadable. Those solid black eyes hid much, but Pietas had angered Cyken before. A long-familiar blaze of fury flickered across the man's face and disappeared.
Which told Pietas he'd scored a hit. Why didn't that feel like a victory? One leg tucked under himself, he faced Cyken.
"You talk first." Cyken gestured. "Since you claim to know what I'll say."
"You want me to exempt Izzorah from the fealty test." Pietas required the test of all immortals who followed him. The only proof of immortality was coming back from the dead.
Anyone with the courage to die to prove loyalty deserved a place at Pietas's side.
"You never let anyone skip. Everyone knows that."
"You're right, and I won't start now." Good, then. That was settled.
Cyken broke into a slow smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, making him look far less deadly than Pietas knew him to be. Cyken had aged during this lifetime, giving his face character, and... What was the word... Gravitas. Nobility. Revealing the majestic warrior Pietas had fallen so deeply in love with.
The one he loved still.
"Pietas." Cyken reached over and clasped Pietas's left hand. A touch strong but gentle, commanding yet yielding. As it had been with them from the beginning. But this time, Cyken had clamped his entire hand over Pietas's, immobilizing him. Holding him in place. Shifting the power.
If Pietas pulled back his hand, he acknowledged the shift. If he did not, he acknowledged the shift. For him, lose/lose either way.
Shrewd of Cyken. And downright cold-blooded.
Book Hooks is a weekly cooperative blog hop hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog.
