Page 78 of House of Pawns
Talk.
I swallow hard and nod. My hand still in his, I lead him up the stairs. Down the hall. And into my bedroom.
I close the door behind us, lingering against it for a thoughtful, reflective moment.
“I know my reputation precedes me,” he says quietly. His voice is once again low and with that sensual edge to it that I don’t think he means to be there. But it is. And it’s undeniable. “But I want you to know, I would not hurt you. I do not want you to be afraid.”
I still face the ornate wooden door. And I make an honest confession. “A few weeks ago, I was not afraid. I’ve prepared for my death that I have been warned about. But the reality of its arrival is stark.”
I do not hear his footsteps crossing the room back to me, but I do feel the heat of his body warm my exposed back.
“I do not wish for you to be afraid,” he says as he brushes his fingers from my shoulder, across my back, moving my hair over my shoulder. Exposing my neck. “But I must be sure your blood is Royal.”
My heart thunders. My palms sweat and my vision swims.
His lips brush over my shoulder and I can’t seem to help itwhen my eyes slide closed. One of his hands slides over my hip, around my waist, pulling me closer toward him. “The bite will be quick.”
He doesn’t wait for my response. His fangs sink into the flesh of my neck. And instantly, my mind goes numb and my body goes lax. I feel him take several long pulls.
Just as he promised, it’s over as quickly as it began.
He holds me close and secure as my mind clears and my body tries to recover. He licks the wound closed. Gently, he helps me to my bed, where he helps me to sit. I note the small drop of my blood that escaped onto his lip.
“Did you get the confirmation you needed?” And suddenly, there’s a tiny spark of hope. That Henry was not my father. That I am not his daughter and I have nothing to do with this paranormal world.
“There’s no doubt,” Cyrus says as he pushes a stray lock of hair form my eyes. “You are the descendant of Dorian, a Born Royal.”
I let my eyes slide closed as the weight of everything that means settles onto my chest, never to be lifted again.
I shouldn’t have hoped. Shouldn’t have imagined. I knew.
I knew.
Without a doubt.
My eyes are still closed when I feel a warm, soft hand run up the side of my neck to caress my cheek. Cyrus’ breath warms my neck as he runs his nose up the other side of my throat. Softly, gently, I feel his lips brush behind my ear.
“You have no idea how painful it is,” he breathes as he again kisses the side of my neck. “Hope. Every time a new woman is born into the tree. Clinging to a small spark that Imight find her again. It’s been…” he takes a deep breath in and his pain is palpable. “So long this time.”
“I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” I say as my eyes roll back in my head. This is wrong. So very wrong. This demented man who only wants me if I’m someone I’m not. But touch. I didn’t realize how much I’ve craved and needed it until it’s here in my bed. “I cannot even imagine.”
He slowly unwraps himself from me, sitting beside me on the bed, and it leaves me feeling cold. “It was my own doing. And if I could take it all back, I would.”
His honest confession is startling. It’s so big there isn’t a word for it.
This man created a race. An entire new species. In reality, what he was able to do, thousands of years ago, it’s incredible. But even with all this, everything that we are, he would take it back, for the woman he loves.
I reach up, placing a hand on his cheek. There’s a tenderness to his eyes that is so deep and profound.
Thunder rips through the air, startling me.
“Who is that curse gathering for?” Cyrus suddenly asks. He stands and crosses to the window that looks out over the river. He pulls the curtains back, and I’m shocked when he stands there in the light, as if it causes him no pain whatsoever.
“I don’t know who it could be for, other than me,” I say as I stand and walk to stand by his side. “It started a few days ago.”
Cyrus folds his arms across his chest, studying the gray day outside. And in the full light, he really is an intricate specimen. He’s not overly large, not hugely muscled or overly tall. But his features are all perfectly arranged. Everything about him drawsme in. Maybe that’s just one more way he is the perfect predator.
I must not forget that.
