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The world around me fades away as it drains me. All that exists is the rush of sensation coursing through my body. I’m on fire, burning from the inside out. My heart pounds, my breaths come out in ragged gasps.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it’s over. The creature releases me, and I stumble backwards, my body still throbbing with pleasure. Woozy, I stagger, and a pair of strong arms guides me down to the steps beneath the coffin. There, I lean into a hard, cold slab of stone. The world spins before me, so I close my eyes.
“That was kinda nifty,” I murmur dreamily. “Shall we do it again?” All sense of danger has left my body, replaced by rapture.
“No, no,” says a deep male voice. “I took a little too much. But it has been a while since I last fed, so I do apologise. Would you mind telling me the year?”
“Twenty-twenty-three,” I tell him. “And I am eighteen years old. Did you know that I’m an aura now? Me. It’s my first day here.”
“Very good. Twenty-twenty-three… Well, I have been dead for a while.”
At those words, a rush of complete terror hits me like a freight train. I gasp, and my hand flies up to the wound on my neck. I lurch away, tripping over my feet.
“Ah, it’s hitting you. Take it steady now. Try not to panic.”
Now I can see the creature for the first time—the fanged being that bit into my neck and sucked a shit ton of blood from my body. Onlycreatureis not the word to describe this human-looking being.
First of all, he’s smiling.
Second of all, he’s hot.
Yeah, that’s all I’ve got because my brain has melted.
The boy sitting on the steps next to hiscoffinhas a mop of shiny brown hair that frames his dark eyes. His skin is likemarble, but he’s grinning at me, and the effect is effervescent as light from the window catches his features. The red lines under his eyes are the only clue that he could be hundreds of years old.
Over his trousers, he wears some sort of grey tunic. The fabric is made of sheer cloth that clings to his muscles like a second skin. I can see a rippled ruby shimmering on his chest, and there are a few decorative braids of gold thread woven into the tunic.
“Who… What…” I mumble.
He lifts a hand. “Don’t fall. You’ll only be light-headed for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. And to answer your question, my name is Cyrus Dracul.” The smile fades from his face as he looks around the room. “I seem to have been dead for quite a while.”
“Oh.” My voice is so quiet, I barely hear the word escape my lips.
In barely a second, Cyrus is on his feet and only inches from where I stand. He towers over me, six feet and solid, built like stone.Hewas the slab of stone I thought I was leaning against. That was his chest.
My heart hammers against my ribs. My skin seems to scorch where the air touches it. I raise my head to meet his gaze, and my mouth goes dry.
He’s looking at me with wonder.
“You’re my saviour,” he says.
The words caress my skin. Up close, he smells like pine and leaves and moss. Now that he’s here in front of me, all I can think about is the exhilarating pleasure of him drinking my blood.
“Is… is it always like that when…” I raise two fingertips to the wound on my neck.
His lips turn up at one corner. “Is it always that good? No. That was… special.” His voice cracks. “You must be special too. I don’t know your—”
“Kira.”
This is wrong. It’s all wrong. I shouldn’t be in this room with this… God, I have to face up to what Cyrus is. He’s avampire. He should be dead. I resurrected him, and… Oh, God, what are the factions going to do?
Cyrus lifts a hand to my face and gently strokes my cheek. “Kira, you’re upset. What is it?”
“You’re not supposed…” I pause and lick my lips. “I mean, you’re meant to be—”
“Dead?” he finishes. “Yes, I remember.” His eyes flash with darkness as he raises his free hand to his chest. The other lingers on my cheek, soft as a feather. Then he hisses between his teeth, “Belvedere.”
I bow my head and take a step back. I can’t tell him who I am or what’s going on here. How am I supposed to explain that his ancestral home is full of Guardians who would kill him on sight?
