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As soon as they’re gone, I slip back into the tunnel and hurry to Cyrus’s crypt. My heart beats hard, like a rubber ball hitting a wall. Being apart from him is starting to hurt physically. And now that I’m close, I can’t wait to see him.
By the time I reach the door to the crypt, I’m practically running. Then I see him, sitting alone on the steps leading up to his coffin.
When he lifts his head, his dark eyes light up like they’re caught in sunlight. He crosses the space between us in just a few strides and places both hands on my shoulders. “Are you all right? After the attack?”
“Yes. Thanks to you.” Heat floods my cheeks and neck.
He brushes a lock of hair from my face, smiling. His touch is so light, so soft. The sensation makes my skin tingle.
I clear my throat in embarrassment. Then I think we both suddenly realise we’re acting like lovers, and we split apart.
“Do you eat regular food?” I pull open my bag and produce the bread and fruit.
“No,” he says. “Just blood. But you go ahead.”
He plants himself down on the steps as I eagerly bite into the bread, my stomach rumbling. I don’t bother being ladylike about it, and a small smile plays across Cyrus’s lips.
I wipe my mouth and laugh. “I’m guessing the girls of your era were a lot more delicate.”
He shakes his head slightly. “Some but not all.”
“So, what did you find out in the books?”
His amused expression fades, his face tight with concern. “I learned what your ancestor Alaric did to my father.”
“Is that why you dreamed it?”
He nods. “At least, I assume it happened that way since it was written into the history books. Sometimes, the writers make changes to their stories.” He stands and begins pacing back and forth in front of his coffin. “But it makes sense. Alaric needed to end the war right there and then. My father’s literal head on a spike would do that.”
“He put your father’s head on a spike?”
“He didn’t, actually. According to your books, my father is down here in the crypts somewhere. Powerful wards protect his body. His head and body.”
“A ward like the one keeping you in here?”
“Yes. And I assume there’s another seal too.”
“Do you know if my blood will break the seal?”
Cyrus turns away. His voice is quiet when he answers. “I don’t.”
I tuck the rest of the bread in my bag, dust crumbs from my hands, and stand. “Cyrus, I don’t understand why my ancestor would include a loophole in his spell that resurrects you. Was there anything in the book to explain that?”
He shakes his head. “No. But I have my own theory.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“I didn’t know much about your ancestor when I was alive. I was aware of him, and I knew Father didn’t like his input on the council, but aside from that, there’s not much I remember.” He scratches the length of his jaw. “Alaric is best known for ending the war by killing my father. For that reason, it’s fair to assume he was… a warrior. But he was the head professor at the original Aura Academy. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“He was a scholar, and before the Six Circle War, he wasn’t known for aggression.” Cyrus frowns. “It’s hard to know exactly who he was, because these accounts often contradict themselves, but my theory is that Alaric didn’t want to completely eradicate vampires from the world. He wanted to remove themtemporarily. So he added a loophole to his spell that allowed for an descendent to bring back a member of my family if they choose to do so.” He lowers his chin, and his dark eyes meet mine.
For one lingering moment, Cyrus defines the wordvampire. Dark. Dangerous. Brooding. I’m lost in his gaze. When he takes a step forward, his expression softening, my skin hums with the longing to touch him.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
I clear my throat and take a step back. “Yes. Sorry. So I did that when I broke the seal.”
