Crown of Death_Blood Descendants Universe

by Keary Taylor

  “That’s a good thing, in case you didn’t realize,” Amelia says, laying a hand on my leg. “You deserve to find someone who’s the match to your incredible self.”

  It’s kind of hard to breath. And I can’t quite look at Cyrus again as he turns and comes to sit beside me now that his turn is over.

  I hope and pray that he didn’t hear what Amelia said, or how my internal organs reacted to her statement.

  He reaches over and takes my hand once more, holding it protectively in his lap.

  Chapter 17

  Logan, this really isn’t cool. Mom texts on Monday. If you’re going to live with a guy this soon after meeting him, I at least need to see what all the fuss is about.

  Soon, I fend her off.

  On Wednesday, she texts again. Your father and I are going out tonight. Maybe you and Collin could join us?

  He has work, I lie.

  I lie on my bed that night, unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. Mom’s been hounding me all day about this. And now that I’m finally alone, in the dark, I can sort through my own thoughts.

  It’s been subtle, but over the past few weeks as I’ve begun to see my reality, as Cyrus has shown me, I’m beginning to accept that this is going to be my world. The world of Royals, and Houses with power. Of blood and fangs. These are vampires. And I will be one of them soon.

  The reason for them all is Cyrus. He created this world. Brought it into being. Ruled—rules it.

  Can I really bring that man into my childhood home? Can I really introduce him to my family? My parents? My baby brother?

  And can I really do that to them? Introduce them to that kind of man, and put on the show of the two of us being in love?

  You’re completely and totally head-over-heels in love with Collin.

  Amelia’s words echo through my head, over and over and over.

  They can’t be true.

  Cyrus erupted into my life, only brought across the world because I look like my mother, who he so obviously despises. He sank his fangs into my flesh and then the look in his eyes changed.

  Cyrus wants something from me.

  Took control of my life to get it. Is still determined that I must die to get it.

  So it’s just not possible that I could be in love with him.

  What kind of sick Stockholm Syndrome is that?

  But I roll over onto my side, looking at the door.

  I know he’s in his bedroom. He went into it at the same time I came into mine. He walked across his bedroom floor, paced, for about an hour. But then I finally heard the rustle of his bed against the wall, the same one my own bed rests against.

  I roll onto my knees and place my hands on the wall between us.

  It’s just not possible. Wouldn’t make any sense. What does that make me if I developed feelings for a man like him?

  I can’t be in love with the King of vampires.

  You need to give in to your mother, Dad texts me on Friday night. This is stressing her out and it’s not fair. She has a right to want to meet her daughter’s boyfriend.

  I sigh as I walk through the door on Friday after work.

  I close it, leaning against it. I look up at the ceiling, feeling my stomach sink.

  There are real world consequences for what is about to happen. For the path I’m being ushered down. My mother is going to think this is going somewhere it isn’t.

  This is the deal you made though, I think to myself. You’re supposed to be finishing your human life.

  And as I think about it, a cold drop of panic sinks into my stomach.

  Today is the fourteenth. My death date is the twenty-forth.

  I have ten days left to wrap up my human life.

  With a gasp, I cross the entry and rush up the stairs. I shove open the door to my bedroom and head for the desk against the wall. Throwing open drawers, I sigh in relief when I find a notebook and a pen in another drawer.

  Things to wrap up, I write in big bold letters across the top.

  Work, I write on the first line. In less than ten days I’m going to have to quit. I realize now that I’m already too late to give two-weeks’ notice. Emmanuel isn’t going to be happy. He’s always been so good to me. And now I’m going to leave him hanging.

  Amelia, I scrawl on the next line.

  Family, I write on the one after.

  I need to tell them something.

  Once I’m turned, if I don’t just die for good, I doubt I can be around them for some time. I’m going to have to go away.

  “Cyrus?” I call out before I even really think about it.

  And almost as if he was just waiting for me, he’s instantly there, standing in the doorway.

  “If I really wake up after being dead for four days,” I say, watching him, but not really seeing him. I’m imagining where I’ll be while I’m dead. “What can I expect in those first few days?”

  Cyrus leans against the doorway, watching me. “Your new body will be overwhelming in ways,” he says. “The strength, the speed, the new sense of sight and hearing. But your body will already be perfectly adapted for it.”

  I nod, taking it in, but not really hearing him. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Cyrus’ lips thin. But he nods. “You ask about the thirst.”

  I nod.

  He takes a deep breath. He steps into the room, and slowly crosses the room to sit on my bed. “The thirst will be consuming when you first awaken. Your throat will burn with fire, your need for blood will be unquenchable. Only fresh blood will satisfy you.”

  “Meaning I will hurt someone,” I say, swallowing once. I resist the instinct to raise a hand to my throat, which tingles.

  “Yes,” Cyrus whispers. “The first feeding is always a draining one. No matter how much you might not wish to hurt or kill someone, no one can stop themselves the first time.”

  Breathing is difficult, my throat is too tight.

  I swear I can already taste the coppery wet of blood in the back of my throat.

  “You’ll need to feed often in the beginning, as your new body adjusts,” Cyrus says.

  “How long?” I ask. I clear my throat and blink. “You don’t go running around, driven mad by bloodlust. Mina seems to have things under control. The House of Valdez wasn’t attacking every human at the casino. How long until I have the thirst under control?”

  He looks at me, again searching for something. “Everyone is different. For some they gain control in about three weeks. For others it’s longer. A month, two. It’s controllable if you’re aware of your needs and take care of them. But most don’t have full strength of will over the thirst until they’ve been Resurrected for a year or so.”

  A year.

  A year before I won’t pose a threat to my family. My friends.

  “Where will I go?” I ask in a whisper. “I can’t stay here. I will have to tell everyone something. Give them some reason why I won’t see them for such a long time. But I do have to go somewhere.”

  Cyrus stands, and I can nearly see the weight upon his shoulders. “That will become very clear once the end of the month has arrived.” He goes to stand in the doorway and looks back. “Logan, are you sure you still wish to wait so long? The uncertainty could be over in four days.”

  My chest aches. Splinters at the look in his eyes.

  “I need to say goodbye,” I say quietly. And I hate that I can’t give him what he wants.

  Cyrus only nods, and walks out of the room, as if it hurts too much to stay.

  I look back down at my list.

  I need to leave for a year.

  Where I’m going, no one will say. My future is uncertain. But the lie is not.

  And there, working on the list, on all the things I need to wrap up, I come up with the lie, with the plan, that I will tell everyone I care about.

  Chapter 18

  We’re coming over on Sunday, I text my mom that night.

  I tell Cyrus to get ready, tell him to play along with ev
erything I say when we go over, and he agrees.

  All the little pieces I plan out, crafting my lie so intricately that no one can question it. So it looks so solid and perfect that they’ll believe it and just be happy for me.

  On Sunday, I grab the grocery bag and Cyrus and I head out to his car.

  “What’s in there?” he asks, nodding his head at the bag as he pulls onto the road.

  “Mom asked me to bring a dessert,” I say, looking down at the box of cookies. “Which is funny, because she knows I can’t cook. I think it was a little bit of payback for putting her off for so long.”

  He looks over at me, and it’s there, more intense than usual. Like he’s searching for answers on my face.

  We drive across Greendale, and head into Cherico. I guide Cyrus through the main roads, and then the turn-off that cuts toward our neighborhood.

  “I’m excited to meet them, your parents,” Cyrus says as we turn onto my street. “I may not have much good to say about your biological mother, but she did right, doing what she did. Making that sacrifice. Despite the hardships you’ve had the last few years, you seem to love your family.”

  He parks in front of the house. And I feel my heart swell.

  He’s right.

  I did have a good life. A good family.

  I do love them.

  So I have to do this. And I have to protect them.

  “Are you ready?” he says, looking at me.

  I stare into his beautiful face. So beautiful he isn’t human. He isn’t.

  It’s a face chiseled by time and trial and war and death.

  But it’s still beautiful.

  I find myself leaning in just slightly. But he blinks, and shifts back ever so slightly.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  I don’t knock on the door, just let myself inside, and wonder how long it will be before I do it again. With Cyrus’ hand held firmly in mine, I step inside.

  The scent of pot roast is overwhelming. And warm rolls and stewing vegetables.

  I swear my heart is going to beat right out of my chest as I cross the front living room. And then round the corner into the dining room.

  My grip on Cyrus’ hand tightens involuntarily, but I am comforted when he squeezes back.

  Three pairs of eyes immediately slide toward us, and my blood goes still.

  “Logan,” Mom grins from ear to ear as she wipes her hands on a towel and rushes across the room to wrap her arms around me. She squeezes tight, and I hug her back with just one arm, because I realize I’m too terrified to let go of Cyrus’ hand.

  “Hi, Mom,” I breathe into her blonde hair. And I hug her long, not letting go for a few moments longer as she loosens her grip on me. Because I don’t know how long it might be until I see her again.

  “I’m so glad you came,” she says quietly. And I realize just how much stress I have put her under the last few weeks as I dodged her requests.

  I let her go and she backs up a step, taking Cyrus in.

  “Mom, everyone,” I breathe. “This is Collin.”

  King of the entire world of vampires.

  “It’s great to finally meet you,” Cyrus says, stepping forward and wrapping Mom in a giant hug.

  I have to look away for a second. I swear, these aren’t tears trying to pool in my eyes.

  “It’s lovely to finally meet you,” Mom glows as Cyrus releases her. There’s a look in her eyes, it’s the same one I see in nearly everyone’s eyes when they look at Cyrus. He holds a power over women with that face of his. “So glad you could come have dinner with us.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Cyrus says with a wide, charming smile. “And you must be Ethan.”

  He steps forward, extending a hand toward my dad. He wheels in from the kitchen. And my heart nearly stops when Dad puts the brakes on the chair, and with shaking limbs, stands on his feet.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Collin,” Dad says. But he’s certainly a dad. And he stares hard at Collin, as if chewing him out in his head, how dare he move his daughter in with him so soon after meeting.

  “Collin,” I say, stepping in to defuse the moment before it can grow too threatening, “this is my brother, Eshan.”

  He looks up from where he sits at the table on his phone. “Hey.” He just gives a nod of his head.

  “Eshan,” Cyrus breathes. “Meaning ruler. Tell me, are you a man of power at your school?”

  My brother looks up at Cyrus with a classic teenage look. Without a word, he just looks back down at his phone.

  “You’ll have to forgive his rudeness,” Mom chides as she walks back into the kitchen. “We’re dealing with classic cases of teenage angst with the approach of junior year.”

  “Let me make a guess,” I say as I once more take Cyrus’ hand and guide him toward the dining table. “There’s a girl, and you know this is the year to make a move, and it’s stressing you out?”

  Eshan looks up and glares.

  “What’s her name?” I goad him.

  “Go easy, Logan,” Cyrus says as he pulls my chair out for me and slides it in. “A man is allowed to keep the desires of his heart close.” He sits beside me, looping an arm over the back of my chair. “Let me give you some advice, Eshan.”

  And my brother actually looks at him. He’s doubtful, but not entirely closed off.

  “Make a woman feel like the most important part of your world, but never forget that she is still her own person,” Cyrus says with absolute confidence. “For if you hold her too close, she will only want to roam.”

  “Some sage wisdom there,” Dad says as he wheels over, setting a pitcher of water on the table. “How old are you again, Collin?”

  “Twenty-seven,” he lies without hesitation.

  I can see it, the look of disapproval on my father’s face. It’s a big age difference, seven years, at least in his eyes. I suppose he’s forgotten he and my mother have eight years between them.

  Then again, I did just turn twenty a month and a half ago.

  “Have you seen Eli recently?” Dad asks, changing the subject. “I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, and he hasn’t stopped by.”

  My throat instantly tightens and I have to force myself not to glance in Cyrus’ direction. “He’s been out of town with work. Somewhere in Asia. He’ll be back in about two weeks.”

  Dad nods, accepting my lie.

  Again, I force myself not to look at Cyrus. But I’m so, so aware of every cell of his presence beside me.

  “So, tell me,” Mom says. “How did the two of you meet?” She sets the last of the food on the table and Eshan immediately digs in.

  I look over at Cyrus, reminding him with my eyes to go along with whatever I say.

  “I’d come home from dinner with Amelia,” I say. It’s easier to keep facts straight when they’re blended slightly with the truth. “I’d gotten in a fight with Eli earlier, and went for a walk to clear my head. I honestly hadn’t realized how late it was.”

  Part truth.

  “There was this creepy guy lurking in an alley,” I say. And I remember the glowing red eyes. The scream that came from my lungs.

  “Collin stepped in and the guy ran away before it could go anywhere,” I wrap it up with a big lie. “He took me out for coffee after that, and we just…” I look over at him and he meets my eyes. “Hit it off.”

  He reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together.

  He does it under the table, but it’s obvious. Both my parents see the movement.

  “Thank you,” my dad pipes up. “For stepping in that night before anything could happen. I…” he shakes his head, at a loss for words for a moment. “It’s a terrifying time of life, having your baby move out of your house, where you can’t protect her all the time.”

  I look at Cyrus once more, and remember the night where he actually did protect me from a predator. “He’s always there,” I say. “Watching out for me.”

  “I promise you, Mr. Pierce, I won’t eve
r let any harm come to Logan while she’s with me.”

  It’s a punch in the gut.

  While I’m with him.

  Because if I’m not who he’s looking for, he’s going to move on.

  Everyone finishes dishing up and I put a bite into my mouth without tasting it.

  “Thank you for dinner,” Cyrus says. “Your cooking really is superb.”

  “Well, thank you, Collin,” Mom says. And she actually blushes. “I love to cook. Unfortunately, I couldn’t ever seem to teach Logan a thing. The poor thing can’t even boil an egg.”

  “Mom,” I gape in horror and embarrassment. “Really?”

  “Yeah, Logan’s not really good at much except playing with dead people,” Eshan teases.

  I look at my brother in horror. I could sock him right now. But at the same time I’m glad to see him finally relaxing tonight.

  Mom just laughs, and everyone else smiles, too. “I’m sorry, honey. I swear I tried to prepare you to take care of yourself, but it just did not stick.”

  Cyrus smiles and looks over at me. “I suppose it’s a good thing we have Fredrick.”

  “Fredrick?” Dad questions.

  Cyrus looks back over, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “My assistant. He lives with us. He also cooks. Which is fortunate. Since neither Logan nor I know what to do when it comes to the kitchen.”

  “What do you do for work?” Dad asks, clearly interested in how Cyrus can afford an assistant.

  And for a moment, I panic.

  But I should have known Cyrus would be quick on his feet.

  “I’m in politics,” he says easily. “An ambassador, of sorts. My work takes me all around the world. It’s what brought me here.”

  “So, you’ll likely have to leave at some point?”

  I hate that that’s a hint of hope in Dad’s voice.

  “Actually,” I pipe up. But my heart rate has tripled. Sweat breaks out onto my upper lip, my skin feels itchy. “I…I needed to talk to you all about something that’s come up.”

  All at once, their eyes rise up and fix on me. Dad instantly goes ghost white. Mom looks worried. Eshan gives me a look with narrowed eyes.