He confirms it with the joy in his eyes.
“I thought you were larger than life from the very second I first saw you,” I say as my eyes drift down to his mouth. “You turned my life upside down and threw all my plans out the window.” I give a small laugh, because all of my plans were so small. “You made my life so much more.”
I reach up, touching my fingers to his lips. “I didn’t think I should, but I loved you, Cyrus. I love you now, and I’m going to love you forever. Even when I might not look like me.”
His expression pales at that and I wish I could take the words back, but they’re still utterly true.
“I’m arrogant enough to say that I don’t think very many people have loved anyone as much as I love you, Cyrus,” I say, grounding us once more, locking our hearts together once more. “I couldn’t ever, ever love anyone else after you. I don’t ever want to. I’m yours and you’re mine. For forever. Do you take me as your wife?”
I could fall into those eyes. They’re bottomless. They contain the infinities. I could swim in stars in them for the rest of my immortal life.
“I do,” he says.
From the drawer of my bedside table, I retrieve the ring I got for him. I wish I’d had time to get or make something more meaningful. This is just a simple ring from our treasury, something I think might have been stolen from a kingdom across the sea.
I slip the simple black band onto his finger.
And then neither of us waits for half a second more.
Our lips meet, and this kiss is entirely different. Husband and wife. Partners. Bonded. Man and woman. Lovers.
His hands are greedy and searching. They go to my hips, gripping the delicate white fabric roughly. He uses it to pull my body to his, pressing our bodies together as one. He pulls up, and I’m nervous but excited as he raises the nightgown up and up, until he lifts it over my head.
He takes a moment to look at me, naked and exposed in front of him.
But he doesn’t immediately push me to the bed to make love to me for the first time.
He raises his hand to my cheek, his other resting low, low on my back. He stares into my eyes. I get lost in his.
“For however long we have, and for forever after that,” he breathes against my lips as he comes close, so close. But he doesn’t kiss me. He just speaks his words against my flesh, soft and delicate. “I will love you, Logan.”
“I love you,” I whisper.
And gently, he wraps his hand around my back. He leans me back, carefully balancing the both of us as he lowers us.
My hands go to the tie of his pants and I loosen them. I shove them down, and Cyrus lowers himself down to meet me on the bed.
And as my head falls back and my eyes roll to the back of my head, I know forever is never going to be long enough with Cyrus.
Chapter 14
All I want is to lie here in bed with Cyrus for the next decade. I want to cuddle, and make love, and forget the rest of the world exists.
A honeymoon would be nice.
But just as evening begins to descend, my phone dings. I ignore it, rolling over to tuck myself into Cyrus’ chest. He lays an arm over me, gently pressing a kiss into my hair.
Then the phone dings again. And another shortly after.
“I thought that thing was dead, or lost,” I grumble, rolling over. A cell phone has been the least of my worries. And who the hell would be contacting me anymore? My life inside that thing is well over.
I grab it from the nightstand, where I haven’t touched it in probably a week. It shows three new text messages.
One from Eshan.
One from Amelia.
And one from Emmanuel.
Oh shit.
My brother, my human best friend, and my former boss.
“What is it?” Cyrus asks, laying an arm across my bare stomach and pressing his forehead into my side.
I ignore him, opening the first message, the one from my brother.
So, the news is out. Cyrus is freaking terrifying. The world is kind of a confused and panicking place right now.
“Shit,” I let the word slip out.
I open the message from Amelia.
WHAT IN THE EVER BLOODY LIVING HELL, LO?!?! Are you…when…I don’t even have words. I saw the news story, it’s all over everything. When did this happen? I’m so confused. When did you become a QUEEN? And who the hell is Sevan?
Oh, this is bad. This is really, really, really bad.
Emmanuel’s message is simple.
How long have you been a vampire?
“Logan?” Cyrus questions, rising up onto his elbow, looking at me with concern. “Tell me what is wrong.”
My eyes fix on a point on the wall across from us. My brain can’t quite grasp a direction, any logic. So it chooses numb generalness.
“It’s out there,” I say. I hand him my phone. “The world knows.”
He takes a minute to read through each of the three messages. He eventually sets it down in my lap, and I hear him breathe through his nose, hard, but controlled. Then, without a word, he climbs out of the bed and goes to the closet.
I hardly even get to enjoy the view of his naked ass.
I understand his silence. What is there to say? We can’t change it now. It’s too late. The damage is done.
I put on clothes, black and sleek and comfortable, just in case Lorenzo decides to go against his end of the bargain. I braid my hair over one shoulder. And then we leave the sanctuary of our bedroom.
On our way to wherever we’re going to handle the insanity of this day, I text back. First to Eshan: Lay low. Don’t mention anything to anyone. No one there in Boston knows me or that I’m your sister, so just lay low with Elle and Lexington.
Next I move to Amelia. I have no idea what to say. How do you tell your best friend that yeah, you’re a vampire queen, but you had no idea until three months ago.
I don’t know how to begin to explain, I text. Just know I had no idea about any of this until a few months ago. When things settle down, I promise to give you some real explanations. But all this crazy shit? Take it seriously. Be careful. Be safe.
It’s not enough. But it’s the best I can do right now.
Lastly, I respond to Emmanuel. Only since after my last day. I promise, that’s not why I worked for you. Take all these crazy stories seriously. Keep yourself safe, please.
I don’t promise him more of an explanation. It will all be coming out soon. I can only tell him that: to be careful and safe.
It’s over. The entire world and the way things once looked, they’re over.
The world is totally changed now.
Cyrus and I aim for his office, and find the doors to it open, with plenty of bodies already inside.
“How far has the news spread?” Cyrus demands, walking past everyone and going straight to his desk. He doesn’t sit, though. He braces his hands on the desk, looking out at everyone gathered.
Alivia and Rath. Dorian and Malachi. Edmond and Horatio Valdez. A handful from the House of Himura.
“Jersey Adams put together this whole piece,” Alivia starts. “It was an hour long special.”
My blood goes cold at that. Not just a five-minute news highlight. An entire hour-long story.
“It was aired around the world,” Rath continues the bad news. “It’s only been out for hours, but they’re already saying it’s the most watched news report, or TV program ever.”
I swear under my breath.
We let Jersey Adams go after that nightmarish night. I’m not one for death and violence. But we shouldn’t have. We should have taken her prisoner. Or killed her. Or at the very least destroyed every bit of footage she got.
“My House says things are pretty ugly and chaotic back home,” Alivia says, her hazel eyes rising up to meet mine, and then Cyrus’. “Everyone is scared. Our town already had suspicions, a lot already knew. But they’ve got everyone at my House nervous enough they’re holing up at the plantation.”
br /> “The country of Russia has enabled investigation teams and an army already,” Dorian says. He’s pale. He looks sick. “I’ve ordered my Houses to go to the safe houses. They’re on lockdown until I give them word.”
My stomach is in knots.
We aren’t fighting.
We can’t fight.
We’re hiding.
We’re hoping not to be eliminated.
Damn Lorenzo. Damn Moab.
“The House of Himura is readying themselves,” Noriko Himura says. “We won’t go out to fight, but we will defend ourselves if we must.”
“Shit,” I breathe under my breath.
Cyrus takes five deep breaths through his nose. His hands have curled into fists, his fingernails dug deep into the surface of the wood of his desk.
Suddenly, he pounds a fist on the desk, cracking the wood, but I’ll never know what he was going to say or do, because just then, two bodies storm through the doors.
One, a Court member, the other, a man with golden-jade colored eyes.
Everyone is instantly on their feet, stakes and swords pointed in his direction, fangs bared, eyes brilliant red.
But the Court member has him bound with chains, a sword already at his back, and the man is cooperating.
“Explain,” I demand, taking two steps forward, holding a short blade in front of me, ready to drive it into the man’s heart.
The Court member, who I think is named Cleo, blinks, looking around at us. “He came to the gates this evening,” she says. “He says he wants to help us.”
I raise my chin, taking another step forward. “And why should we believe you?” I ask. “Why would we believe you are not a spy?”
He reaches into his pockets, and pulls something out. He drops them to the floor, which they hit with a wet smack.
My stomach instantly turns, and I raise a hand to cover my mouth.
Eyes. They’re eyes.
Golden-jade colored eyes. Three pairs of them.
“Because I took out his right-hand helpers,” he says, staring deadpan into my eyes. “My full-blooded siblings.”
I look up at him and Cyrus takes a step forward, his grip tight on his sword.
“There were four of us that lived here at Court,” the man continues. “Our entire lives. We were born here, raised here, attended parties here, and made friends here. But here they are. My brother Felix,” he says, indicating one pair of eyes. “And my sisters, Lotta and Elisa.”
“You betrayed them?” Cyrus asks, his voice tentative and distrustful.
“No,” the man says, standing straighter. “They betrayed us. Our kind. They embraced that madman and laughed with him while they planned all of this. And now they’re going to get every one of us killed. I know they’re not the ones to put an end to this madness, but I thought it was a start.”
I study this man, this man who shares the same father as me.
He doesn’t look like the others. Where Lorenzo’s features are darker, more Italian looking, this man has dark blond, curly hair. It’s a little longer, shaggy almost. His jaw is square and strong. He’s larger than Lorenzo in stature. He looks strong, capable. He looks almost nothing like Lorenzo, except for those eyes.
The same as my eyes.
“What is your name?” Cyrus asks. He stands beside me, his sword held casually at the ready by his side.
“Maksim,” he responds. His eyes slide over to mine, and there’s this strange tingle that shoots up my spine.
For the first time, I feel something.
I’ve had a brother for the last sixteen years and I love him almost more than anything. I’d lay down my life for him.
But this man…I feel this weird sensation.
He’s blood.
We share half of our DNA.
He is my brother.
“You understand what’s happening in the world right now?” I ask, taking one more step forward.
Everyone in the room shifts a little closer. I am their queen after all, and I am very nearly within striking distance from this man we thought was our enemy.
“It’s falling into ruin,” Maksim says. He fixes me with those yellow-green eyes.
“How do I know you aren’t just afraid?” I ask. “If you are just panicking, realizing I was right all along, you are no good to me, to us. I have no need for cowardly backstabbers.”
Maksim takes half a step forward, holding his chained hands in front of him. All the stabby people around me tighten, raising their weapons. But he seems unbothered.
“My siblings may have idealized the world my father painted, his vision, but I remained indifferent. I never thought he would actually one day mobilize all of those bastard children he’d created throughout the world. I never thought he would have the balls to make his move.”
Maksim folds his arms over his chest. “After six hundred years of waiting inside the nest, I really never thought he would live up to all of his talk.”
“And you never thought to warn the Crown?” I accuse him.
He shrugs. “As I said, I was indifferent.”
“You keep saying that word, but I don’t find it very comforting or convincing,” Cyrus growls.
“Call it a wakeup call when my friend in Morocco called me last night and said both of his newly Resurrected children had been hunted down and slaughtered,” Maksim says through clenched teeth. “Or when the woman I once loved last century cannot be reached in Greece, and this feeling in my gut tells me she’s dead. Or when I turned on the news and saw a story of five us who had been rounded up and peeled apart by an angry mob, on live TV.”
A long line of curse words slip through my head, in all the languages I’ve ever spoken.
It’s happening.
It’s already happening. What I feared most.
What I told both Moab and Lorenzo would happen if we made our kind public knowledge.
“Is there any chance at reasoning with him?” I ask, my voice going quiet. “Is there a chance we could show Lorenzo what is already happening around the world and he would stop? Would he withdraw from this war and ask his children to stand down?”
I don’t like it when I see something darken in Maksim’s eyes.
He shakes his head. “Lorenzo thinks we need to finish this war here in Roter Himmel, and once he wins, he plans to immediately turn his efforts to the world. He plans to rally all vampires, Born, Royal, even whatever Bitten he can find, and use them to make a stand. He thinks he can bring a balance. He thinks he can strike peace.”
“Idiot,” Alivia mutters under her breath, reminding me that there are more than just the three of us in the room.
“Such ego,” Malachi says. “This is the world we speak of. This is an earth-moving revelation for the world. And he believes he can smooth it all over?”
“He truly does,” Maksim says, looking over at my youngest grandson.
“What are you offering us?” Cyrus asks. His eyes narrow at the golden haired man. “Why are you here?”
Those yellow-green eyes turn to the King he lived under for so long. I see commitment in them. I see devotion. I see resolve.
“I’m here because I don’t want to see the world fall into ruin,” Maksim answers. “I’m here because I don’t hold his beliefs. And I’m here to tell you that Lorenzo plans to attack at noon tomorrow instead of holding to the stalemate.”
Chapter 15
With only twelve hours to go until Lorenzo tries to surprise and slaughter us all, we have six until we will attack, at dawn.
We still have 332 bodies left, between Royals and Court members. And we arm every one of them. Swords, guns, nerve agents, bombs.
I wanted to drop a bomb on them all. But Maksim informed us that after seeing what we had done to Moab’s men, they dispersed. They’re all holing up in different locations, gearing up and readying for war.
We’d only be guessing as to where to drop the bombs.
If only we had one of Elle’s DNA gas bombs. We could set them up all o
ver Austria if it would take them out.
But that would mean I’d die, too. And I’m not about to flee the country and hope that would work. Besides, there just isn’t time to have Elle develop that.
So we’re right back where we started, thousands of years ago. With swords and shields and blood on the field.
There was once a large population of humans who lived here in Roter Himmel. They farmed, they worked, and the members of Court and the Crown fed off of them, and in exchange for protection, large sums of money, and a generally more exciting existence, they let us drink their blood.
But when all of this insanity started, most of them left. One by one, they fled our city. When the real fighting began, not a single one of them remained.
So for us to feed, to refuel, because part of our curse is that we are dependent upon the blood of humans for survival, we have to hunt them.
I wonder how long it has been for most of them. Since the members of Court, or even most of the Royals had to go and stalk down their humans. So many of them have regulars who let them feed off of them. Or they drink donated, bagged blood.
But this is a new era that looks a lot like the old days.
Some things don’t change, though: Cyrus and I cannot risk extra trips outside of the castle right now. So our humans are brought to us, willing donors.
In the Great Hall, the willing woman sits in a chair. I come up behind her. And without even looking into her face, my fangs lengthen, and I sink them into the side of her neck.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. The wet, coppery fluid slipping down my throat. There was a burn in there that had been eating at my stomach, my esophagus, my tongue. And as her blood slips down, it cools and rewarms and pulls a moan from me.
But I keep drinking.
Even though this is disgusting. Horrifying. I’m draining a woman of her blood.
I have drained blood out of people before. I’d replace it with embalming fluid what would help preserve the body.
But those people had been dead, and I was getting paid to do it as a mortician.