Page 33 of Nyte

“Never harmed you?” Cypress’s voice was high, filled with exasperation. “He turned you. You expect me to believe he never drank from you?”

“Of course he did.” Haven glared. “But everything he took was freely given. I was so thankful to him for freeing me from that life of horrors, I would have given him anything he asked for.” He still did. He always would. Despite all the evils of this world, Thorne had provided him with a safe place. Thorne was his refuge, his savior.

“Sounds a lot like brainwashing to me,” Cypress muttered under his breath. He forgot who he stood with.

Haven whirled on him, jaw clenched tight. In anger, he lunged, slamming Cypress down against the stone ledge of the fountain, his parasol falling from his grip and skidding away. He ignored the twitching and burning of the sun stinging his skin, focusing instead on the wide-eyed look of the human beneath him.

Cypress’s head had slammed hard against the statue, yet he still met Haven’s glare.

“Watch your tongue before I tear it out!”

But instead of recoiling in fear, Cypress opened his mouth and began to laugh.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“The way you let me get under your skin so easily. I don’t even have to try!” There was a playfulness in his tone that Haven couldn’t shake off.

He backed up, only now noticing how badly his skin twinged and stung. It was turning a blistering red under the sun’s diminished light.

Cypress noticed as well, then. “You’re burning.” He stood, lifting himself from the fountain ledge, to retrieve Haven’s parasol. He brought it over Haven’s head. “I’ve had enough sun for the day. We should get you inside. Do you have ointment?”

Haven blinked. “In my room.”

“Would you let me help?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“It’s my fault you’re hurt.”

Haven shifted. “I’m fine. Not like it can kill me anyway.” Unfortunately.

Gingerly, Cypress reached out and traced the exposed skin on Haven’s neck. “Does it hurt?”

Though his first inclination was to push him away, Haven allowed the gentle touch. “Stings a bit.”

“Come on then.” Cypress nodded toward the mansion doors.

His face was so stupidly, boyishly sincere. So much like Tobin’s. Haven had to remind himself that this man was not Tobin. Could never be Tobin. But despite that truth, Haven found himself inextricably tugged forward, as though he were the one chained. Beneath Cypress’s hard exterior, there was a man who cared deeply for what he thought was right. A man with honor and a strong moral code. Perhaps he really wasn’t like the others.

He allowed Cypress to lead him back inside.

“My Lord!” Sirene reached out, balking at his reddened skin. “What happened?”

“Don’t follow us,” he snapped, turning away. He felt Sirene’s eyes on his back but heard only Cypress’s soft footfalls behind him.

In silence, they walked to Haven’s chambers, and once within, behind the closed door, Haven retrieved the ointment from a shelf at his bedside. He didn’t use it often, but it was imperative that he always keep it close just in case. Sunburns, for a vampyre, were hellishly painful. One could never be too careful.

“Here.” Cypress held out an expectant hand.

He wasn’t sure why, but it was easy, so easy, to give Cypress the jar. As the human approached, Haven felt his chest constrict as the distance was closed between them.

Cypress unscrewed the top, dipping a finger into the clear liquid. Then, after placing the jar on the dresser behind him, he gestured for Haven’s hand. “Let me.”

Haven extended an arm, laying his palm in Cypress’s. As the cool gelatinous liquid was applied to his skin, he sighed at the contact. Cypress massaged him gently, coating every inch of his hand, sliding over tendons and blistering flesh.

Once both hands were finished, Cypress stepped closer, reaching for Haven’s neck.

“Why are you doing this?” Haven’s breath caught as he asked the question that wouldn’t stop running through his mind.

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