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“That’s right.” She settles back in her chair. “There was speculation that he was killed by someone in the human world, since no spell was involved. At least as far as we know. The arrow may have been enchanted to find its target. One of the empaths tried to read the arrow but found no sense of a spell.”
“Who would want him dead?”
She laughs. “Oh, many. Auras and humans too. Alaric was the king at that point. His decision was the final one, and not just for the circle of necromancers but for all auras. And, yes, sometimes the human world and the aura world crossover. Powerful humans speak to powerful auras. Decisions are made that are beyond my knowledge.” She raises her eyebrows. “You have no idea how the world works, little girl. It’s much bigger and scarier than you could ever imagine.”
The grin she gives me drips with malice. My stomach turns.
I don’t like this and I don’t like her and I hate that I have this power. I just want to get out of here,I think.
I quickly thank her for her time and hurry back down the tower steps.
Thirty-Six
I lean backagainst Cyrus’s chest as he strokes my hair. There’s still no furniture in his crypt. I tried the second tunnel, but it led to a locked door, the same kind as the one leading into Cyrus’s crypt. Which makes me wonder if another of his family members is lying dead inside that room.
His fingertips brush lightly against my scalp. It’s so soothing that I could stay like this for hours. The only slight problem is that I’ve decided not to tell him about that other room, that other possible crypt.
When I saw that seal, terror spiked through my body. I believe Cyrus is a good person, but I don’t know about the rest of his family. History tells me that Vladimir Dracul was a tyrant—though my own ancestor was no better—and I can’t risk accidentally bringing Vladimir back to life. I can’t do that to the world.
If Cyrus found out there were other crypts with seals the same as his, he might want me to try. And I can’t face the look of disappointment on his face if I have to tell him I can’t—or won’t—do that.
“Someone murdered Alaric,” Cyrus murmurs. “That is very interesting.”
The words shiver through me. Alaric was my ancestor, and while I have no allegiance to him, I can’t help but wonder if he still has enemies. There could be auras or even humans out there who want to see me dead simply because I’m a Belvedere.
“Do you think it could be why my family gave up magic eventually?” I ask. “What if it was a safety measure rather than a choice?”
His fingertip traces down my temple, and a pleasurable tingle ripples across my flesh. Whenever I’m with him, I’m at the mercy of every touch. Every kiss.
Every bite.
“Do you think your family is in danger?” he asks.
I turn to face him, shuffling until I’m on my knees. Above his shoulders rests his coffin. Seeing it becomes less and less strange each time.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense. Two students have been murdered here, but there’s been no attempt on my life. Unless you count Gabrielle, but I think she was just lashing out.” I sigh. “On the other hand, Gabrielle’s family apparently had beef with mine back in the day. So I guess that shows the Belvederes weren’t too popular.”
“Had beef?”
I smile. “Feuded.”
“Beef means feuding?” He frowns. “Why beef? Why not hog or fowl?”
I trace the frown line between his eyebrows with my fingertip, grinning. Then he kisses me, and I no longerfind him amusing. His hands reach around to my back, pulling me into him. I touch his soft, dark hair, and he moans. I want him more than anything I’ve wanted in my life. Ineedhim. Need more of him, his touch, his kiss.
When he moves his lips to my neck, I wait for the bite. The anticipation makes my skin thrum, the blood pumping through my veins as it waits for him.
But he doesn’t strike, instead moving to my collarbone and laying tiny, delicate kisses there.
“Aren’t you going to drink?”
“Patience is a virtue, Kira,” he growls. Then he kisses the other side of my neck, teasing me.
We should be talking about the ward and Alaric and Octavia Pax and how her ancestor created the ward spell, but this is much better. It consumes me.
Cyrus gently pushes the hem of my skirt up my thigh, and everywhere his fingertips touch, I quiver.
“Do you trust me?” he murmurs.
