House of Kings(31)

Her question stops me dead in my tracks. The cold I do not feel on the outside trickles down the back of my spine. My eyes meet hers, and I don’t know how to speak for several long moments.

“We were constantly holding back,” I answer honestly. I don’t know why I do it. Perhaps because I know how she felt about Ian. Perhaps because I need the closure myself. “Yes, we knew it wouldn’t end well. So, I’m grateful we didn’t let it go as deep as love because neither of us could have seen the end as black as it came.”

I take another step forward, not daring to look at Danielle. Because parts of what I just said were the truth. But parts were pure, straight up lies.

“He has a way, doesn’t he?” she says as she follows me, just a few steps behind. “Of pulling you in with that tortured soul. You just want to fix all the darkness in his life and give him something better.”

She nails it right on the head. “Something like that,” I say in a painful sigh.

He left me. He just left. After coming to me that night and begging me to leave with him. To walk away. And he just walked away, without me.

I should have seen it coming. He’d been upfront with his feelings the entire time. He never wanted me to become a vampire before there was no other choice.

I should have known he would leave.

But I didn’t.

“I’ve seen the way Raheem looks at you,” she says quietly. “He’s careful. But not careful enough. The way you wanted Ian to love you, Raheem already does.”

I slow. The statement rolls around in my head, over and over.

I know this. I know Raheem’s feelings. I see it in his eyes every day.

“You’re going to get him killed, aren’t you?” Danielle asks. I don’t answer her—because I’m so very afraid it’s the truth. “Do you love him? Because if he’s going to die for his love for you, I hope you feel the same way.”

I whirl around on her, my eyes instantly flaring. “Just stop,” I bark. “It’s none of your business. You’ll never bring this up again, you understand me? Raheem. Ian. My feelings or anything related to relationships. I don’t want to hear another word.”

She shirks back a step, her eyes growing wide with fear for a moment. But it doesn’t last long. Her expression narrows and hardens. “You got it, master. I won’t try to be your friend again.”

She stalks ahead of me, headed back to the House. And I’m left alone in the snow with a million emotions I thought I’d buried.





“I’VE INVITED THE HOUSE IN Vermont to attend a party the night after tomorrow.”

Cyrus stands in my bedroom. His trousers hang low on his hips. His feet are bare, as is his chest. The muscles in his chest stand out in deep contrast with the shadows the fireplace casts.

He looks beautiful standing there. Dangerous. Fierce and seductive.

I walk toward him, dropping my coat on the floor by the door. The darkness creeps up inside me, whispering to my hurting insides to do some hurting in return. There must be balance. Checks and equalization. An eye for an eye, pain for pain.

A little bit of my humanity has been dying every day since I’ve Resurrected, and I don’t know if any more of it remains.

“Whatever you wish, my King,” I say low and seductive as I cross the space slowly. The heat from the fireplace warms my skin as I approach him. He’s cast in silhouette, a dark figure before the flames. “I look forward to meeting more of my Royal cousins.”

I stop before him, just a few inches away. His dark eyes trace my body, running from my tight jeans, up over my hips. They linger on my breasts, my curves exposed by my low neckline. They slide up my neck.

And I touch the tips of two of my fingers against his lower abdomen. Slowly, so very slowly, I let them slide up between the valley of his stomach muscles. They twitch and quiver with need at my touch.

“I think I dreamed of castles last night,” I breathe into his ear as I lean into the King. My lips hover just a fraction of an inch from his neck. “Of grand ballrooms and blood. Of death and life.”

“You did?” Cyrus breathes as he wraps his hands around my waist. His own lips linger on my collarbone.

“Perhaps,” I say as I press my lips to the hollow beneath his ear. I let them part ever so slightly as I drag them down, toward his shoulder. His fingers clamp harder into my sides. His body jumps to life, shaking and quivering in need. “It’s hard to be sure. The dream was so fuzzy.”

“We did not settle in Roter Himmel until ten years after our son was born,” he says as he runs one hand up my back, pulling at my sweater. It rips, a quick tearing sound cutting through the otherwise silent room. “The castle was abandoned, the town burned to the ground.”