Chapter 15 Cyrene
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CYRENE
Ihesitated, my heart still racing from the raw honesty in his voice when he’d said he was my friend. And I realized it was true. I’d gone from thinking he was a betrayer to someone I cared for.
When exactly had that happened? Maybe somewhere between us saying I do and him declaring himself for me in the ballroom.
Or perhaps it had been happening all along.
How could I not fall for someone who made sure I had my favorite foods and tea?
He’d insisted the staff treat me as their queen from the day I arrived.
He’d set up my workshop and furnished it with supplies and appeared unafraid of witch magic when most vampires would recoil.
He’d been courting me all along, showing me who he was beneath the crown and reserved exterior.
The man many believed was cold and calculating had looked at me tonight with so much vulnerability it took my breath away. I’d been falling for him piece by piece, day by day, without even realizing it. Not for the memory of a festival wizard, but for the complex, thoughtful man he’d become.
Every part of me wanted to close the distance between us, to tell him I understood now, that I saw him clearly for the first time since I’d arrived. But the words got stuck in my throat.
His expression shifted, shuttering behind his gorgeous blue eyes. He raked both hands through his hair, disheveling the carefully styled strands.
“I should—” He turned toward the door. “I have matters requiring my attention. You’re free to read or retire if you wish. I won’t disturb you tonight.”
The formal tone was back, that careful distance he’d maintained those first few days coating him like armor.
“Kieran, wait.”
He paused, one hand on the doorframe, but he didn’t turn around.
I crossed to him, noting details I’d been too caught up in our conversation to see before. The shadows beneath his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The way he held himself with rigid control, as if he was afraid he was going to shatter if he relaxed even a bit.
“When did you last feed?” I asked.
His back stiffened. “That’s not your concern.”
“It’s been days, hasn’t it?” Why hadn’t I noticed? I moved closer, until I could see the muscle jumping in his jaw. “Why?”
“I told you. That’s not—”
“Kieran.”
He finally turned, and the naked vulnerability in his expression stole my breath. “Because I don’t like forcing you to endure it.” The words came out rough, almost angry. “I don’t like that you have to submit to something you clearly find distasteful just because our arrangement requires it.”
I blinked. “I never said it was distasteful.”
“You don’t have to say it. I can feel your apprehension through the bond, your—” His jaw clenched. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll manage.”
“By starving yourself?” Warmth unfurled in my chest, very close to tenderness. He was denying himself because he thought he was protecting me. This brooding, careful man who carried the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, was worried about my comfort. “I don’t mind. Truly.”
“Well, I mind. You deserve better than being treated as a convenient source of food.”
We stood there, locked in what felt like an impasse, and panic fluttered through my chest. He’d opened himself to me in a way I’d never expected, had shown me pieces of his heart, and now he was going to walk away thinking I didn’t care.
“I’m happy here,” I said. The words felt huge, heavy with meaning I wasn’t ready to examine. “I’m happy with our marriage.”
He stilled. “You’re what?”
“I know it’s not—we didn’t exactly—” I fumbled for words, heat creeping up my neck.
“But these past days, getting to know you, seeing how you care for your people, how you’ve tried to make me comfortable…
” I met his eyes. “I want you to know that I’m not unhappy.
That this arrangement has become more than I expected. ”
His expression blazed, achingly hopeful.
Neither of us was brave enough to name what was building between us, but both recognized its presence.
“So feed from me.” I lifted my chin. “Wherever you please.”
His eyes darkened to sapphire. “Cyrene—”
“Please.”
For a long moment, he simply looked at me. Then, with movements so careful they bordered on reverent, he closed the distance between us. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, his thumb pressing against the pulse point there.
“May I?” His voice had dropped to a rasp.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He raised my wrist to his lips, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin. Then his fangs extended, and I felt the sharp pierce of them sliding into my vein.
The sensation was nothing like that first feeding when I was angry, bemused, and uncertain about what it would mean to be married to this man.
This was slow, deliberate, and much too intimate.
Each pull of his mouth sent heat spiraling through me, made my magic rise to the surface in golden sparks that danced across my skin.
His other hand came up to steady me, his fingers splaying across my lower back as he drew me closer.
My knees weakened. I swayed into him, and his arm tightened around me, holding me upright as he drank. The bond between us flared to life, no longer the faint thread I’d grown accustomed to but a living thing, throbbing with sensation and emotion.
And through it, I felt him.
His hunger and his loneliness. The bone-deep ache of responsibility he’d carried alone for six years.
The longing—fates, the longing—that pierced through everything else, sharp and sweet and devastating.
He wanted this. Wanted me. Not only my blood or my magic or the political alliance I represented.
Me.
The realization staggered me. I thought of him at twenty-four, barely more than a boy, handed a crown and a kingdom when his parents died.
No time to grieve, no chance to process his loss before duty consumed him.
He’d stepped up because he had to, because his people needed him, and he’d been carrying that weight alone ever since.
I knew what that sort of loss felt like. Remembered the hollow shock of being told my parents were gone, the way the world had tilted sideways and never quite righted itself. Grandmother had been there to catch me, to hold me and my sisters together through the grief.
But Kieran had faced it alone, with an entire kingdom watching.
He’d had no one.
Inside me, a locked door swung open. The hurt I’d carried from the festival, from his abrupt departure and the silence that followed didn’t disappear, but it transformed. Softened into understanding.
He hadn’t left because he didn’t care. He’d left because duty demanded it, because he’d had no choice. And he’d searched for me after, had tried to find the joy witch who’d shown him three days of happiness before his world fell apart.
I was still that witch. Still carried that joy inside me, even if I’d dimmed it over the past years. And this careful, lonely king who worried about my comfort, defended me to his people, and was trying hard to be worthy of a wife he thought didn’t want him, deserved to see it.
He deserved all the light I had to give.
My magic surged, responding to the deepening connection between us. Golden light spilled from my skin, wrapping around both of us like a cocoon. Kieran made a sound low in his throat, his arm tightening around me as he drank deeper.
When he finally pulled back, his fangs retracting, we were both trembling. His forehead rested against mine, his breath coming fast and shallow. The puncture marks on my wrist had already healed, but I could still feel the ghost of his mouth there, the phantom pull of each draw.
“Cyrene.” My name was a prayer, a question, and a plea.
His hands came up to cup my face, stroking across my cheekbones with infinite tenderness. His eyes searched mine, his pupils blown wide with hunger that had nothing to do with blood.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his voice rough with need.
A laugh bubbled up despite the tension crackling between us. “You know, you could just do it instead of formally announcing your intentions.”
His mouth curved into a smile, the kind that made him look younger, less burdened. “Where would be the fun in—”
I rose on my toes and kissed him.
For a heartbeat, he froze. Then he made a sound between a growl and a groan and hauled me closer, one hand sliding into my hair while the other pressed against the small of my back, eliminating any space between us.
The kiss was everything the feeding had been and more.
Hungry. Desperate. He kissed me like I was everything, like he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life and wanted to savor every second.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I opened for him, sighing into his mouth as he explored me with so much need it made my heart ache.
My magic flared brighter, golden light spilling across the room in waves. The bond between us sang, every emotion amplified until I couldn’t tell where my desire ended and his began.
This was what I’d been missing at the festival.
This depth, this intensity. We’d had happiness then, had shared laughter and a tentative connection.
But this was the foundation of something real, something lasting.
Built on truth and understanding, on seeing each other’s flaws and choosing each other anyway.
I nipped at his lower lip, and he groaned, backing me toward the bed. My legs hit the edge of the mattress, and we tumbled onto it together, the kiss never breaking. He braced himself on his forearms, caging me beneath him while being careful not to crush me with his weight.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against my mouth. “Tell me this is too fast, and I’ll—”
“Don’t stop.” I threaded my fingers through his hair, tugging him back down. “Please don’t stop.”