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Haven sighed and whirled around. Locking Cy in those deep red eyes, he glared. “I thought you were smarter than that. You should know better than to make human friends.” He looked down at the blood seeping through Cy’s fingers. “He didn’t seal the wound.”
Not a question. Cy shook his head.
“Come here.” Haven held out a hand, beckoning for Cy to approach.
His heart pounded in his chest. He felt like a rabbit locked in a fox’s crosshairs. But taking a breath, he did as he was told, allowing Haven to pull his hand away from the wound.
“It’s deep. He has no tact.”
Cy held his breath as Haven leaned in and pressed his tongue to the bite. In another circumstance, the feel of that warm muscle caressing his skin, licking away the blood, might have shot Cy through with lust. But now, he only felt pain, desperate anguish. Haven didn’t attempt to drink, pulling away as Cy began to feel his skin stitching itself back together.
Their eyes connected for the briefest of moments before Haven broke the trance and turned away again. His boots clacked against the stone floors. Cy swayed on his feet, feeling Sirene’s hands on his shoulders, urging him forward, even though all he wanted to do was fall to his knees and weep.
A ball of tight emotions settled in his chest. He supposed he was in shock. This couldn’t be happening. He’d lost both Wren and Summer in the span of a few days. He was just as useless now as he’d ever been. All his training as a slayer, with the Veritas…it had been for nothing.
He gasped as a sob escaped his lips.
Haven’s eyes fell on him, and for a moment, Cy thought he saw something like pity cross his normally stoic features. Then, his gaze hardened again as he turned it to Sirene. “Keep him moving.”
Sirene’s grip on Cy’s shoulders tightened as they walked silently through the halls, away from the pets’ quarters and deeper into the castle. Tears continued to fall down Cy’s cheeks. He didn’t care how it made him look, didn’t care if it reflected weakness. All he felt was pain. It resounded in the empty space where his heart had once been.
He’d failed. He’d failed. He’d failed again.
They stopped outside the door to Haven’s room. Cy recognized the ornate door, the wide stretch of open hallway. As Haven slipped a key into the lock, he motioned for Sirene to stand guard. Then, gingerly, he forced Cy over the threshold.
As the door shut behind them, Haven gestured to the bed. “You can sit.”
“Why am I here?” Cy choked out.
“You’re staying here for the time being. In my quarters.”
Even though it was what he had wanted, Cy couldn’t be happy about it. Not now under these circumstances.
“Why?” he hissed again.
“You’ll get yourself killed otherwise,” Haven said nonchalantly, as though they hadn’t both just seen a beautiful human torn to shreds in front of them. “You willingly and thoughtlessly attacked a vampyre noble who you had no means nor ability to overcome. What did you hope to accomplish?”
Cy’s mind flashed back to Summer. Her look of fear and anguish, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her throat being torn open. “Summer didn’t deserve to die. Neither did Wren. I failed them both.”
“Wren?”
“A boy. Lord Garrison’s pet.”
Haven paused. “Lord Garrison’s pet is not dead.”
Cy’s heart fluttered. “Not dead?”
“Well...not quite.”
“What happened to him?” Cy demanded.
Haven’s brow furrowed. “Why do you care?”
“Because he’s just a boy! He’s ten! He’s a child, dammit. Where is he? What has Garrison done to him?”
Haven studied him, curiosity etched across his face. Finally, he said, “Garrison turned him.”
Cy’s stomach heaved. “Turned him?”
