Chapter Fourteen #2
“Come.” My companion led me through other walls and floors, finally stopping inside a temple I’d visited before, with Cyrus’s father. Statues of Astan and his pet dragon lined the walls. Bala was her name, the namesake of CURED’s central base of operations.
The biggest statue featured a massive Astan behind a human-size golden throne, gripping its curved top.
His wings, folded in at his sides, the tips brushing the arms of the royal seat.
Before, his horns had curled downward. Today, they perched above the halfway point .
. . and might have just risen another inch, right before my eyes.
A shirtless, bleeding Mr. Vyle dropped to his knees before it and began mumbling the same phrase over and over. “Grant me power, my master, and I will accomplish your will.”
Revulsion pricked me.
An old man in a gold robe sat upon the throne, cackling with his head thrown back in abandon and his arms spread high and wide. “It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine!” A wild, insane sight.
Recognizing him, I blanched. “That’s the emperor of Ourland.” But the truly shocking part? Slithering shadows twined around every statue, the throne, Bala, and even Mr. Vyle and the emperor. Especially the emperor.
“He celebrates the capture of the berry field,” Domino said, determination hardening his voice. “He shouldn’t. We’ll get it back soon enough.”
“I’ll help you, however I can,” I vowed.
“Thank you.” The librarian gave my fingers a soft squeeze.
I unveiled a wry smile. “No need to thank me for doing my duty, Dom.”
He snorted, and it was a little too cute for my liking.
The shadows must have sensed us, even if the men did not. They drew together to form a wall in front of the pair, spoiling our view.
“Come.” Domino drew me up into the air, through the ceiling. The higher we went, the faster we traveled, until boom, we stopped inside a bedroom I recognized. The one I’d seen before, when I’d spoken with Ember’s boyfriend.
I stood beside the librarian, who sat at the foot of the bed with his dog perched at his feet, peering at him with adoration. No longer was Domino’s body solid against mine, but mist.
Frowning, I waved my hand through him. He wasn’t mist. I was.
“You’re the solid one, and I’m invisible,” I gasped out.
“Yes.” He bent over to scratch the adorable and increasingly more excited dog behind the ears. “This is Archive.”
“Hello, good boy,” I cooed, wishing I could pet the animal too. Cyrus owned cats who hated me. “You have a charming name.”
“It’s fitting. He helps me shelve books when he isn’t eating my shoes.” Domino stood and strode to a small area with a hutch, where he prepared a bowl of kibble.
As Archive chowed down, the librarian walked to a wall without decorations—then he walked through it.
Reeling, I followed him. One second I was in his bedroom, the next I was standing in a library. The library. A massive three-story room with thousands upon thousands of leather-bound books meticulously stacked along freshly polished shelves.
Shimmering golden sunlight filtered through stained glass windows that bore the same symbols carved into the Rock, spotlighting certain areas with brilliant multicolored lights.
Hand-carved tables made from various types of wood displayed the most sublime treasures.
Musical instruments I yearned to hear played.
Vases overflowing with flowers I longed to sniff.
Jewelry glittering with gemstones brighter than any I’d ever seen.
Cushioned couches and chairs offered spots of relaxation under flourishing trees that grew from the floor.
Flower-heavy branches extended in every direction.
People moved about in harmony with a soft melody that seeped from speakers I’d never seen.
Many called greetings to Domino. The scent of clean, worn leather, sweet peaches, and creamy coconut teased my nose.
My second-favorite fragrance after Cyrus’s, and yes, okay, the librarian’s.
“Where is the soil that nourishes the trees?” I’d always wondered.
“Here, everything is a type of soil.” Domino started forward, and I quickened my steps to remain at his side. “It is born of Tsuri, and he is soil. In him, we are what he is.”
A perfect explanation too vast to fully absorb in a mere moment.
Anyone we neared moved out of his way and into mine, but I ghosted right through them. And it was weird. Though I felt only a flash of warmth, I inhaled sharply each time. “May we visit Ember? I’d like to thank her in person and ask about my mom and Mykal.”
“Her quarters are restricted, but I’m currently receiving the information you seek.”
My brows drew together. “Like a download . . . in your mind?”
“Yes. And no. Revelation flows through our bond to Soal. One day, you’ll be able to do the same.
” He paused, slanted his head in that way of his.
“As a precaution, your mother has been assigned undercover Soalian guards who see to her protection. Mykal still roams the streets. She’s staying with a group of rebels who reject both CURED and Soal. ”
Hey, it was progress. “Anything new from Victors?”
“Not at this time.” Domino led me into a small, private room with two chairs tucked into a single table, where a lamp in the shape of a swan in flight spotlighted an open tome.
Tremors of reverence slipped over me. “Mine?” I asked, hopeful.
“Mine,” he corrected, his tone deeper, almost guttural. He closed and lifted the precious book with a careful grip, then offered me a closer glimpse of the leather binding. After opening to a yellowed page, he asked, “What do you see?”
I eagerly scrutinized . . . “The code.” I pursed my lips. “Am I able to decipher it?” Since we were bonded, I supposed it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
“Arden.” Cyrus’s voice penetrated my awareness. I heard him, but it sounded as if he called to me from a long, echoing tunnel. A soft snapping wrecked my concentration.
The library vanished. Cyrus was standing before me, and I sat upon the couch once again. He cupped my face, his thumbs grazing over my cheekbones. “Arden?”
My body had stayed behind while my spirit ventured through the library with Domino. “I’m here,” I assured him.
Our gazes met, and he searched mine, radiating concern. “What happened? You completely checked out.”
Ugh. Best to tell him now, rather than drag out the big reveal. “I’m connected to him. Rooted. To Domino. He pulled my spirit into the library while my body stayed here.”
Cyrus blinked twice. A hard, blank mask spread over his expression, reminding me of paint spilling over paper. “Not just linked but rooted,” he said with a hollow tone. He straightened, his spine like steel.
I chewed on my bottom lip. “There was no other way to survive the battle,” I rushed to explain. “Maybe it was wrong. I would hate it if you bonded with Lolli, especially if you did it without talking it over with me first. There was no other way,” I repeated. “No time.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “I did tell you to do whatever proved necessary to survive, and I meant it.”
The note of misery in his tone nearly became my undoing. “I don’t deserve to hear your problem with Domino, but I’m asking you to tell me anyway. Help me understand what I’m up against.”
A thousand emotions passed over his expression in an instant, but nothing stuck, the blank mask secured.
“His parents worked for mine. We grew up together, were as close as brothers. Closer, really, since I have brothers, and we barely speak. After Domino joined Soal, he tried to recruit me. I turned him in. CURED took him to a rehabilitation facility, where doctors carved open his body and used him as a pritis factory until his escape. He produced a higher-wattage pritis than other glowers, so CURED wanted him back.” Guilt and shame crept into his expression and pitch.
“They vowed to execute every member of his family unless he returned of his own volition. He didn’t return, and CURED kept its word. ”
My chest tightened. I cupped Cyrus’s shoulder, offering comfort. “I understand. You know my worst secret. How I turned in my own mother. Rest assured, I’m not judging you,” I promised gently.
He ducked his head. “When I became Soalian, Domino ensured I comprehended the pain I had caused him in a multitude of ways.”
That . . . hmm. “Revenge doesn’t sound like him.” Not what I knew of him, anyway.
“People can surprise you.” He let his head fall back and stared up at the crystal ceiling, apprehension whipping from him in increasingly agitated waves. “Rooted,” he repeated.
“We would’ve died without his aid,” I reminded him.
“I realize that. But this complicates things. You can feel him, and he can feel you, I take it.”
“Yes. Kind of.” I shifted in my seat. “It’s muted. An awareness that he’s close if I need him. The bond, um, can’t be undone.” At least, I didn’t think so.
His posture grew stiffer. “Throuples and threesomes aren’t my thing.”
“Nor are they mine.” Until Cyrus, I’d never really been part of a twosome. The thought of being so intimate and vulnerable with someone who could break and harm me had never appealed.
He inhaled deeply, nodded, and handed me a plate he’d set on the coffee table.
I eased back on the couch, and he sat beside me with a plate of his own.
Side by side, we each ate a sandwich layered with moist, shredded chicken, a creamy pepper-and-fruit spread, and melty cheeses.
All the real deal, I’d bet, and none of the lab-grown “meat” and “dairy” ordinary folks were fed when we decided to splurge on something other than a tasteless meal bar made from mystery ingredients.
“How do you want to proceed?” I asked with the barest tremor.
“Give me time to think.”
We finished eating in silence. At any other time, I would’ve moaned over the sublime flavors exploding on my tongue. Tonight, every bite settled like a lead ball in my stomach.
When we finished, we set our plates aside, still silent. I understood his upset, I truly did. Like I’d told him, I’d be super upset if he connected to someone else. The question was, did he want to be with me enough to get past it?
Needing a connection with him, I curled myself against his chest, resting my head on his shoulder. He didn’t rebuke me but slowly wound an arm around my waist. Slow and distracted, he stroked his fingers along my side, pausing now and then to toy with the ends of my hair.
“It’s a complication,” he repeated as if the conversation had never paused, assuring me he’d considered nothing but my new relationship with Domino.
“Yes.” I offered no more, unwilling to pressure him.
“I don’t . . .” He sighed.
I gripped his shirt, crinkling the material between my fingers. Don’t throw me away when you need me most.
“Throw you away?” he fumed.
Oops. I’d spoken out loud.
He tightened his hold. “Arden, that isn’t what I’m considering.”
“Then what?”
“How best to proceed with you. Splitting up isn’t an option.”
Heat washed over me, and I melted, pouring myself over him. “That’s a good answer.”
“We should take this day by day and learn how the bond between you and the librarian works,” he said, and I nodded, eager. “While we do, we will remain together.”
“Yes, yes, forever yes.”
“As for today, I think I’d like to be wooed,” he said, and ran two knuckles along the underside of my chin.
A laugh burst from me, totally spontaneous and utterly unexpected, born from relief and affection. “Wooed? As in, courted?”
“Exactly.” He flashed a sly smile. “Give me a compliment.”
“You can’t just order someone to compliment you,” I replied, giggling.
“I can and I did,” he insisted, pretending to pout. “I want what I want, and I want it now.”
Snickering, I slid into his lap, straddling his thighs.
“Do you hear yourself?” Tsk, tsk, tsk. “The great and powerful future king of Ourland just whined.” Most people were too afraid of his position and cold, distant demeanor to risk speaking to him.
Me? I lightly traced the length of his facial brand with a blunt-tipped nail.
“And yet you still deny him.” He gripped my backside and squeezed. Just like that, his amusement died, replaced by desperation. “Give me what I want, Pink.” He rasped the demand.
I—went—molten. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I wiggled closer and purred, “I won’t give you a compliment, sugar. I’ll give you many.”
His gaze remained on my mouth. “I’m listening.”
“I’m awed by your strength, and I greatly admire your protector’s heart. Your ability to walk into a room and assess everyone and thing wows me. And baby, you are gorgeous.”
His eyes hooded, his heavy lids sinking low. “I also have a multitude of scars and tattoos. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your fetish.”
“Well, in my defense, those scars and tattoos look incredible on you.”
“You look incredible on me.” He tipped up his face to nip my bottom lip with his teeth. “You are brave and kind and sweet. So sweet. So very, very sweet. I love you, and I like you.”
Aah! He’d said those three little words again. And he’d added three more, equally powerful. Heat painted my cheeks even as a smile bloomed. “I lo—like you too.” My heart skipped a beat. That had been too close for comfort. “I like you very much.”
An answering smile lingered. “You almost said it.”
The heat in my cheeks cranked up another thousand degrees. “True,” I admitted, leaning closer. We exchanged breaths, every inhalation igniting the most delicious aches and pangs. “I think I’m afraid of my feelings. With Astan determined to use you as his host . . .”
Cyrus gave a clipped shake of his head. “I will never give in to him, I swear it.” He caressed my earlobe, and I nuzzled into his touch. “But I understand your hesitation.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad? I want to kiss you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I won’t.” He growled the statement. “Domino doesn’t get to experience your pleasure. That is for me alone.”
Inhale. Exhale. “I wish . . .” So many things.
“We cannot go backward,” he said, exhaustion settling into his features. Looked like the day had caught up to him. “We start today. You may be bonded to him—at the moment—but you’re mine forever.”
Breath—gone. “I won’t share your pleasure either,” I told him, standing. A separation I couldn’t bear. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.” I urged him to his feet and led him to the bedroom, where we stripped to our undergarments and climbed under the covers.
He gathered me close and shut his eyes. “Stay with me,” he muttered. “All night.”
“I will,” I vowed, conforming my body to his and luxuriating in his heat. I will stay with you always.