Page 88 of Crown of Death

“Cyrus,” I whisper again. I tip my head forward, resting my forehead against his collarbone, feeling my own emotions rushing to the surface. I want to hold him, for him to hold me. I want to hear his voice and for him to whisper my name in myear.

But he just standsthere.

I huff a deep breath, broken and crackedsounding.

“I want to know what you want,” I say, letting my lips brush against the skin of hischest.

It kills me. Because I realize now what it is that Iwant.

But I realize now, that I won’t haveit.

And it’s going to entirely wreckme.

So it’s a move of self-preservation when I take a step away. I barely hold back the tears as I separate ourcontact.

But a lightning quick hand darts out, catching mywrist.

“Wait,” Cyruswhispers.

I stand there, frozen, my back tohim.

“What I want…” he trails off. And there is a lifetime of emotions in those words. He pauses for a long time and my heart breaks for him. Cyrus is a man constantly surrounded by people. People who do unnatural things to please him. People who bend to his will andcommand.

But Cyrus is the loneliest man I’ve evermet.

“Please stay,” hebreathes.

Slowly, I turn. He still stares out the window, and he’s still hollow. But one of those tears has broken free. Slowly, it slides down his cheek. It clings at his jawline. But it doesn’t have the strength to hold on. It falls to the carpet at ourfeet.

I slide my hand into his, and he clings on tight. I raise it, clutching it to my chest, where he can feel my heart thundering against my ribcage. Slowly, I back toward the bed, and he follows me, never looking into myface.

But for this night, it’s okay. On this night, I can take care of a broken man. A man who changed the world. A man who could command it. Tonight, I see it in his eyes. He needs a strong heart and a softtouch.

I pull him into the bed behind me. He lies down and I pull the covers up over the both ofus.

He rolls toward me, and without hesitation, he buries his face into my neck, his arms wrapping aroundme.

For just a moment, my heart stumbles. His lips are against my neck, and just behind them, I know are sharp, life-ending fangs. All it would take is one bite, long pulls, and I would be dead, just how hewants.

But he only clings tome.

So I wrap my arms around the King. My hands caress his strong back. I twine my legs around his, holding himclose.

Cyrus doesn’t say another word. He just clings to me as tight as he can, not evenbreathing.

And Iknow.

He doesn’t breathe, because it’s toopainful.

So I hold KingCyrus.

And finally, sometime later, he falls asleep in myarms.

Chapter 21

The pillowunder my head twitches. It’s hard, and shapedwrong.

I roll, my brows furrowing inconfusion.