Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Crymson
Apparently, planning for the arrival of the Crown Vampire Prince is a feat in itself. While Thorn has agreed to meet with Christian, he has no intention of the vampire staying, and the preparations around the castle make that clear.
Normally, everything inside the castle feels open and light, the sunshine streaming in through the windows and the staff mostly smiles.
Now, every room I come across that isn’t necessary for use is locked, some of the windows are covered up, and even the sunshine doesn’t seem to penetrate Thorn’s permanent frown.
The Fae King I’ve grown close to is as buttoned up as this castle.
So, I decide to leave him to his own devices and planning.
Whatever makes him feel safe, I suppose.
But I don’t think Christian will do anything out of place. Not with Seven here.
Rorrick left right after Thorn’s decision, running back to the Blood Lands to deliver the message to Christian before the sun fully touched the horizon.
His hands had lingered on my skin briefly before he’d pressed a toe-curling kiss to my lips and left.
Much to Thorn’s annoyance. Carver, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying the drama.
Which is strange to think about. If we’re supposedly mates, I expected some jealousy, not delight.
But there isn’t much about Carver I do understand.
Maybe no one does.
Right after Rorrick leaves, Delilah and I decide to take Seven outside for the first time since he was attacked.
His movements are slow and steady as we help him out of the bed, but it’s not because of weakness.
It’s almost as if he doesn’t feel like he’s a part of his body anymore, like it’s so different, he has to test his movements.
Watching him flex his hands, opening and closing his fists, makes my anxiety skyrocket for some reason.
It’s gonna be okay. I repeat that lie to myself over and over again in the hopes that it’ll become true.
It doesn’t make the sight of Seven standing in the lush grass, his head tilted up toward the overcast sky, any easier.
In fact, it makes it even harder. Because now I’m watching every movement, every flicker, for something that means he won’t be okay.
Seven is still Seven to me, no matter what had to be done to save him.
But it’s clear, he’s no longer the same man to himself.
“I imagined it to be brighter,” he says as he looks up at the heavy clouds obscuring the sunshine.
He’s basked in the hazy glow of light, his jaw angled high to feel the dim warmth of the cloudy day. Dark lashes close against sharp cheekbones as his brows pull heavily over his eyes. He looks pained, desperate to feel the sunlight, like he’s yearned for it his entire life.
My stomach sinks for him.
“It usually is,” I reply, frowning. “It looks like there might be a storm rolling in, actually. Does it storm here?”
“Sometimes,” Delilah answers, her bright eyes looking up at the clouds. With the sunshine obscured, she doesn’t need a parasol to block it, and the moody lighting makes her look even more intense than she normally does. Like me, she’s not smiling, as if she, too, can sense the changing winds.
“We should go back inside,” I say, wrapping my fingers around Seven’s forearm and feeling the warmth of his skin. In answer, the clouds rumble with thunder, making everything feel even eerier.
Seven looks down at where I touch him, his eyes heated even as his expression is tense. “You shouldn’t get so close to me, Crymson,” he warns on a sharp whisper. “I could be dangerous.”
“You’re not dangerous to me,” I argue, tightening my hold around his arm and leaning into him.
He feels nice. More importantly, I want him to feel nice. I want him to know he’s wanted. He’s safe. He’s loved.
“I’ve waited for you to wake up for weeks now. I’m going to touch you.” My chin raises, my lips nearly brushing his as he leans into me before I add, “If you’ve got a problem with that, take it up with someone else.”
The corner of his lips quirks, as if he’d forgotten my attitude. He reaches up with hands that feel both sure and strange in the slowness with which he moves them. Those fingertips brush against my cheek reverently, carefully, almost afraid.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, and that unseen pain shakes his voice.
“Then don’t,” I whisper back, looking up into his eyes, aching so deeply for him, I’m sure he can feel it.
His palm flattens against my cheek, warmth there when before there’d been only cold.
The fine lines beneath his skin are almost invisible beneath the storm clouds rolling in, but as his hand plants more firmly on my jawline, they flash to life, darkening with his eyes.
My own gaze widens in surprise just before he leans down to kiss me.
I’ve been desperate for this moment, desperate to feel him alive and okay, so the moment his lips touch mine, I wrap my arms around his neck, and I let him consume me.
Devour me.
Distantly, in the back of my mind, I hear Delilah say something about needing to get a room before I hear her retreat. A deep pulsing vibration seems to filter through Seven’s body, his hands wrapping around my waist to drag me closer as his lips move hungrily over mine.
He breaks the kiss only to trail down my neck, his teeth scraping against delicate flesh, his lips chasing away the hurt.
“The Thorn King is watching from the window,” he breathes against my skin.
“Not surprising,” I gasp as I tangle my hand in his hair to better hold him against me.
“The other one is watching from the garden,” he adds.
I laugh and turn to find Carver literally sitting with what looks like popcorn as he watches us. He chucks a handful in the air and somehow catches it all with a happy smile and a little wave to us.
“For fuck’s sake. This isn’t the place, I guess,” I whisper.
Seven chuckles. “I don’t mind continuing.” He leans back and meets my eyes. “If that’s what you want.”
I let out a slow sigh. “It’s probably a bad idea with how much is going on.” I frown. “But first—”
I lean up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his in one last hungry aggressive kiss.
Flashes of us tangled in sheets and rattling the jars of the infirmary table slip through my mind, and I know it’s him showing me how good he could make me feel.
“I thought about you every day, Crymson,” he murmurs with a gravelly growl coating his words.
Another flash of his hips slamming into mine thrusts through my thoughts, and I moan against his lips. I can feel every single move he isn’t making.
That deep pulsing I felt from him before explodes out of him now as his hands wrap around me and hold on tight.
His palm settles low on my back, and I feel his hardness as he rocks his hips ever so slightly.
Power like I’ve never felt before slams into me and superheats my skin, my body responding by growing increasingly more sexually frustrated.
I don’t stop the kiss as we fight to consume each other in the field of wildflowers, but Seven does pull away with a blink and looks around us. Only then do I follow his gaze.
In a perfect ring around us, brilliant pink-and-blue flames dance, burning the grass but not anything else. It doesn’t feel hot to me. No heat licks at my legs.
With wide eyes, I look up at Seven. “Was that me?”
I think about the reckless magic I couldn’t control in the Blood Kingdom, but this feels different. Stronger.
He slowly shakes his head. “I think . . . it was me.”
New power. Thorn had warned he’d be different and that there was no choice. What does it mean now? He was a half fae, half vampire before. He was bitten by the Dead that abide in the Dark Lands. What will he become?
“We should go inside,” I finally say as the flames slowly die out and leave a perfect burnt circle in the grass. “Before it starts to rain.”
In answer, lightning streaks across the sky, followed by a deep rumbling thunder that I can feel through the ground. Seven nods and grabs my hand, no longer shying away from touching me, and drags me back into the castle of his enemy.
Thorn doesn’t come find me, but Aerin lets me know that the doors are going to be locked, and we can’t go outside at dark until after the visit from the Blood Prince.
I try not to let it feel like a prison once they do.
I fail.