Chapter Nineteen #2
My tears spilled over as he removed my bloodstained clothes and boots. I let him do it, even raising my arms to help. He shed his own as I brushed my teeth, then entered the waterfall first and drew me in behind him.
“Roman killed Miller, who was Soalian,” I said, my tone going flat again.
Head bowed, I stared at the black-and-white tiled floor inside the stall.
The liquid spray rained over me. “Winslet might be dying. She was shot twice. Five others are already dead. We were pitted against each other in a free-for-all.”
He pressed the tenderest of kisses into my brow. “It’s awful. It hurts. I can’t make it better. But I can clean you up and hold you, and I want to—I need to do that. Let me?”
“Please.” The cry escaped me, and there was no stopping the heaves that shook my entire body.
Cyrus held me through it all, cooing and petting me, and when I at last quieted, he soaped me up from head to toe. His touch wasn’t sexual but reverent and comforting. Loving and tender.
We’d been naked together before, but we’d been in front of others then. Here, now, we were alone, and I was fragile, as naked on the inside as I was on the outside. Never had I felt so exposed and vulnerable. The dueling sensations left me uncomfortable with my comfortability.
“Tell me a happy story about young Cyrus,” I begged, desperate to hear something sweet.
He hesitated only a moment. “One of my earliest memories is of my father taking my mother, me, and Felix on a picnic. The king wasn’t some big, strong commander of the world’s most powerful army to us but a man who played catch and made us laugh. I still smile when I think of that day.”
As he washed and conditioned my hair, I imagined him that way. Young and carefree, releasing peals of laughter, and I almost smiled myself.
Every so often, he paused to collect my tears with the pads of his thumbs and kiss the burning tracks left behind. “You will grow through this, I swear it.”
“Grow,” not “get.” The distinction caught my attention, jarring me from my free fall into sorrow and grief. “I wish I’d known you as a little boy.”
“I’d rather you know me as an old man.” He shut off the water, toweled me off, and offered me clean clothes. “Tell me a happy story about young Arden.”
The answer already waited at the edge of my tongue. “My most favorite memories are working on my indoor minigarden while my sister danced around me and my parents snuggled together on the couch, cheering us on.” Days long past, never to be repeated.
Sadder now, I donned the T-shirt and panties while Cyrus pulled on a pair of boxer briefs. He twined our fingers and urged me into the bedroom. I didn’t protest as he readied the covers and helped me slip underneath.
“Let’s do some snuggling of our own.” He gathered me close, and mmm, his warmth. His strength. I soaked them up, not sure how I’d ever lived without them.
As he stroked my hair, then my back, I relaxed against him bit by bit. Eventually, my muscles softened until I was molded against him, with my head resting on his shoulder and my upper half draped over his.
Though fatigued to the bone, I failed to drift to sleep. “On my walk to the temple, I thought I sensed the Rock.” The raspy confession placed my exhaustion on vivid display.
“No, you sensed a rift between worlds that leads to the Rock.”
A tidbit we could use to our advantage. “Tell me what you remember about the throne room.”
He paused for a moment. Rubbed the center of his chest. “The emperor told us to sit. Obeying is the last thing I remember doing until I opened my eyes and spotted you splattered in blood, wearing Vyle’s jacket.”
Another blackout. Not good. “Who was the pregnant woman with your grandfather?”
Cyrus worked his jaw. “Giselle. His mistress. He keeps her in a separate wing, near his suite, on the other side of this compound. It’s guarded more than any other. She and the child are his pride and joy.”
“She has a key.” Perhaps the key we needed, perhaps not. But there was only one way to find out. “I want it.”
“You’ll have an opportunity to take it. We’re having dinner with Giselle and my grandfather this evening.” A small smile of satisfaction flashed. “You asked for a meeting, and I’m delivering.”
“Thank you, Cyrus.” Truly. “I lo . . . love . . .” I opened my mouth to finish the declaration. Shut it. Shifted against him, agitated. I tried to say the words. Wanted to. I also wanted to kiss him. To show him. But my book. Domino.
The librarian’s name whispered through every part of me, guilt and denial vying for supremacy. He was a friend, only a friend.
A friend who had helped me today in ways I didn’t yet understand.
“It’s okay,” Cyrus said, cutting into my thoughts. “I’m a patient man, and soon enough you’ll be mine. Only mine.”
Never mind the “patient” comment. His voice. It had changed ever so slightly, frosted with the briefest hint of malice. It was so unlike him, I froze for a moment. When my mind reactivated, I asked, “You found a way to sever my link to Domino?”
“Yes,” he replied, back to his normal self. “No.” A growl resounded from him. “Maybe. Instructions were right there, at the edge of my mind, but now they’re gone.”
A shudder rocked me against him. I thought, maybe, Astan might be responsible for those instructions, but I saw no shadows on Cyrus. Didn’t mean they weren’t in him. And did I even want to sever my bond with the librarian?
I wasn’t sure.
We slipped into silence and lay curled together for an eternity and a single heartbeat, wrapped into one.
He sighed. “We should prepare for dinner.” As he set up, he dragged me with him. “Everything you require is in the closet.”
A groan of regret seeped from me. As much as I wished to face the emperor and steal his companion’s key, I didn’t want to leave this bed. But this was war, not business as usual. Time to buck up.
I kissed his cheek and climbed from the bed.
In a closet as big as my childhood bedroom, I found more than I needed, including a vanity with different creams, cosmetics, and hairstyling tools.
I marveled at the luxurious fabric as I dressed.
Tried not to sob, whimper, or go numb as I applied different products to my face and body, hiding a multitude of cuts and bruises.
Cobbled together a risky plan as I pinned sections of my hair.
The emotional highs and lows created a daunting challenge, but I persevered.
I examined myself in a full-length mirror.
The satiny gown clung to my curves with a scooped neckline, off-the-shoulder straps, and a cinched waist minus a diamond-shaped swatch of material on each side.
A scarlet bodice tapered into a jet-black skirt, with a long slit stretching from the top of my thigh to the floor, where the gown’s hem pooled.
Black stilettos studded with rubies turned my feet into a work of art. Not bad. Not bad at all.
“You stun me.”
Cyrus leaned one shoulder against the closet doorway. He’d tamed his hair, but not his eyes. They glittered like gemstones, a paradox of raging heat and glistening frost. He hadn’t shaved, the dark stubble on his strong jaw thicker than usual.
Desire coiled within me as he made his way over, each step slow, deliberate, and impossibly magnetic. Grimed up, he was hot. In a perfectly tailored black tux, he unraveled every thread of reason I had left.
“And you . . .” I glided my palms up the lapels of his soft suit jacket. “You defy description.”
“Give it a try,” he said, clasping my hips, more relaxed than he’d been since we entered enemy territory. He was an ember of desire and a whisper of devotion. “Tell me how handsome I am.”
He’d seized the moment, and I would too. But where to start? “Handsome isn’t a strong enough word. You are beyond gorgeous. Sexy but dangerous. Powerful and awe inspiring.” I gently nipped his bottom lip. “Delicious.”
His eyelids hooded. “And I’m yours?”
“All mine. Only mine.”
“Well, then.” He kissed me with raw, unfiltered carnality wrapped in tenderness. “That’s a very good description.”
“And yet it’s not good enough.” I toyed with the ends of his hair, holding his gaze, growing serious. “Don’t listen to Astan. You won’t lose me. As long as you’re you, I’m yours.”
“Don’t worry, kitten. I want nothing to do with him.” He gave me another of those sweet kisses.
“I knew this day would come, and I planned accordingly.” Cyrus withdrew a velvet box from his pocket and cracked open the lid. A sparkling ruby choker graced the interior.
Delighted, I ghosted my fingertips over the gems. “This beauty doubles as a weapon, I’m assuming.”
“It does. Hair up.”
Lifting my curls, I held my breath as he stalked behind me and fastened the jewels around my throat, just above the clear beads. His fingers brushed my skin, a prickle of heat against the chill of metal, rousing a storm of goose bumps in their wake.
“This particular weapon slays my good sense.” Cyrus advanced, prowling around me, his eyes trailing over my curves. “But that is the extent of its power.”
“Then it’s my favorite,” I said with a grin.
A loud knock came from beyond our hideaway, shattering the moment.
He heaved a sigh. “Our escort is here. I hope you’re ready for what’s to come.”
Deep breath in, out. Was I prepared to meet the leader of our world, who could have me killed with a snap of his fingers? “Yes. Let’s do this.”