House of Kings(45)

But I also see a skiff of pain there. The desire for more.

And he knows I cannot give it to him.

“’Til we meet again,” he says, flashing me that wicked smile, the sexy, carefree façade back on, as he backs toward the doors. And then he’s gone.





“YOU SAID THE GAMES WOULD be in three parts,” I say to Cyrus as he sits in the grand chair in my father’s office. “What’s the third part?”

I walk around in front of the chair and stop in front of Cyrus. He sets his bourbon aside and sits forward, taking my hands in his. His deep eyes search mine, as if trying to pull Sevan out through them and into remembrance.

It’s been three full weeks. Surely, he is beginning to realize that she isn’t coming.

“Are you so anxious to see this come to an end?” he asks. A lick of cold slides slowly up my spine. “Why the hurry?”

“Because my House will be on edge until it is over,” I answer him quickly. I rehearsed the response before I came and asked the question. “You make them nervous.”

“I do, don’t I?” he says with the masochist smile. It brings him great joy that he can evoke so much fear.

“You’ve given them much reason to fear and respect you,” I say, smiling. I consider sliding into his lap for a moment, but the time for that game is past. I need the King to leave. He needs to finish his game, and once he does, I will tell him that I know I am not Sevan. Then, he will leave.

So, I can’t toy with him any longer.

“Fear is a strong motivator,” he says as he swings my hands back and forth just once. And I know his hope must be diminishing when the lust does not gather in his eyes. “Fear deepens loyalty. I think you’ve already learned this.”

I have. I used it once when I made Samuel feed off of me until he nearly killed me when he messed up with a human woman. And I’ve used it multiple times since.

I nod.

“You want to get the games over with, you say,” Cyrus says as he lets my hands go and stands from the chair. “Then, let’s wrap this up tonight. We’ll finish at midnight.”

“Great,” I say with a little smile. “Is there anything I can do to help prepare?”

He offers another smile, and I know I’ve made a mistake when I see the look in his eyes. “Oh no, my dear. I will take care of everything.”





“AND YOU HAVE NO IDEA what he’s got planned?” Samuel asks as I fire the arrow into the target across the ballroom. It hits dead center of the bull’s eye.

“Nope,” I reply as I take the next arrow Danny offers me. “But you can be sure it will be bloody.”

“Seems to be his favorite kind of sport,” Danny observes.

“He knew my dad wasn’t going to survive that game,” Samuel says, shaking his head. “He just wanted someone to bleed.”

“Keep it down,” I whisper as I fire another shot. “You don’t need to go pissing him off. Unless you want it to be your blood he sheds tonight.”

Samuel grunts something, but our conversation is cut off when the front doors burst open.

Anna throws a man to the ground in the foyer, quickly followed by Lexington with his own prisoner. He walks her forward with a stake pressed to her back.

Because their eyes glow bright yellow, their fangs exposed, their expressions livid and ready for a fight.

“They were at the fence line. They set off the flood lights,” Anna says, pressing her booted foot into the man’s chest. He hisses at her. Anna whips out a blade and nails his wrist to the floor. Blood seeps out as he rages in a howl. “They were spying.”

I dart to the foyer, followed immediately by Danny and Samuel. I walk up to the woman, because she’s not incoherent with pain. Her eyes burn into mine—in defiance, in hatred. And there, branded into the back of her hand, is the snake eating its own tail.

“Who are you working for?” I ask, not looking intimidated one bit. “Who created you?”

The woman cackles in a laugh, throwing her head back. She goes on and on like a mad woman, totally out of her mind. Finally, she takes a gasping breath, once again looking down to me. “You think I would tell you, even if I could tell you?”

So, she’s been commanded not to reveal her sire’s identity. She literally cannot tell me.

“Who’s your main target?” I ask, taking a step toward her, entering her personal space. “Is it me? The King? All of us?”

“You know the twenty questions is pointless.” I turn to find Danielle join our growing crowd. “They can’t tell you anything.”

“Then, what good are they?” Lexington says, and one second later, he drives the stake into the woman’s heart. He lets her body collapse to the ground in a heap, and her skin grows ashen.