Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“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.”
Chapter Twenty
There’s no need to seek revenge; let the rotten fruit fall from the tree on its own.
—The Book of Soal 2.6.12.19
The strangest woman served as our escort. A large crystal headpiece crowned her hair, while a porcelain mask concealed her face. Slashes of pink rimmed the eyeholes, and a dark, crimson heart stained the mask where her lips should be. Delicate flowers adorned one temple, their vines curling over the other in a mesmerizing pattern. Her flowing black robe, spun from the softest silk, trailed behind her like a shadow, rustling over the ground with every step.
No armed guards stood outside our door, or any door for that matter, as if they’d fled. No meta either.
I glanced at Cyrus, hoping for an explanation, and he delivered.
“I told you the castle rearranges often, but no one, not even those of us who fathom the layout, can find the emperor’s wing without the aid of his personal servants. These individuals have been forcibly silenced, yet they are fully authorized to kill anyone who enters without permission.”
“By forcibly silenced, do you mean they vow not to speak, or . . .”
“It’s done surgically, and with their consent.”
Yikes. That was hardcore. And soon I would come face-to-face with the guy who demanded such a life-altering action. With a snap of his fingers, he could order my death. I worked on my defenses the entire trek. Or I would have, if I hadn’t worried for Domino.
Where was he? Our connection had dulled, and I couldn’t feel him as strongly. Or at all. Had something happened to him? No, of course not. He was too powerful. There must be some other explanation.
Focus. I couldn’t afford to get lost in apprehension. Shadows covered the walls, shifting as we approached, a reminder of the horrors I’d experienced inside the chamber of death. I cringed away.
“My grandfather collects them,” Cyrus said in an effort to distract me, motioning to the many side tables displaying an abundance of goblets, big and small, old and new, decorated and unadorned.
The attempt to distract me worked. “Why?”
“There are rumors Astan owned a goblet made to contain water from a fountain of youth.”
How interesting.
We slipped through a shimmery patch of air that filled an archway, and suddenly I spied the emperor. He wore a suit and tie, resembling an older, albeit shorter version of Cyrus. The plain but elegant pregnant woman—Giselle—stood at his side. Diamonds of various size decorated her neck, wrists, and fingers. To my disappointment, she wasn’t wearing the key.