Page 58 of Crown of Death
Dead.Silence.
Not a one of them breathes. No one moves amuscle.
I feel their eyes shift from me, to Cyrus, and back tome.
Cyrus stands but never once takes his eyes from me. He reaches out, taking my hand and pulls me to myfeet.
Fear. I should be feeling fear. Being touched by the man who brought about so much violence without anyone questioninghim.
But all I feel isdetermination.
“You are all dismissed,” Cyrus says, though hardly loudly enough for the giantspace.
But one by one, they breathe in relief. They slowly trickle out thatdoor.
Cyrus never once looks away from me though, never isdistracted.
I raise my chin, determined not to cower under his penetrating stare. The House of Valdez might bow under his commands, but I am not one ofthem.
As the room empties, Cyrus looks at my hand. He turns it over, as if studying every inch of myskin.
“It has been a very, very long time since I have met anyone like you, Logan,” he breathes. His thumb brushes over the center of my wrist. “Someone who does not recoil when in my presence. Someone who dares speak theirmind.”
He raises my hand, and brings his nose to trail along the inside of my wrist, slowly up the inside of my arm toward my elbow. His eyes slide closed as he slowlyinhales.
There’s something wrong with my heart. It flutters. It stops. Itsprints.
My stomach is full of flutteringbeasts.
“I told you that I would give you four weeks to finish your human life,” he says, brushing his cheek along my skin. “I told you I am a man of my word.” Every one of his words sounds pained, full of absolute longing. “But Logan, please, I beg of you. Please do not make mewait.”
His voice actually cracks just slightly on his lastsentence.
The agony in his words… A fracture splits in my chest and my breathcatches.
“Why do you want me to die?” I ask. I raise my other hand and palm the side of his face. He presses it into my hand, still not opening his eyes. “Cyrus, what do you want fromme?”
A pained breath rips from his chest and he turns to press his lips into my palm, cupping his hands around mine so that it does notescape.
Violent tingles spark in my lower stomach. I’m hardlybreathing.
I can’t look away from Cyrus’ lips pressed against my palm. And I realize, I don’t want him to pull themaway.
“I am so tired of waiting,” he whispers. He trails his lips, not kissing, just brushing them lightly against my skin, down to my wrist. “I’ve been so ready…” He continues dragging his lips along my arm. As he slides them up my bicep, it parts his lips and my body sparks in desire. I let my eyes slide closed just a littlebit.
One of his hands wraps around my waist, pulling me closer. And slowly, slowly, those captivating lips of his slide across my shoulder, and rest against myneck.
“Please, Logan,” hebegs.
And instantly I come back to my senses as I feel the tiniest prick of pain against myflesh.
Fangs.
At myneck.
Ready to endme.
“No,” I whisper, suddenlytrembling.