Crown of Blood (Crown of Death #2)
Keary Taylor
Chapter 1
Eight times now, my eyes have opened, newly transformed into a brilliant, violent red. Twice, at the castle. Once, in the bedroom of a palace in the desert. Once, on the lawn beneath the moon. Once, in the middle of a ballroom. Once, in a breezy seaside home. And once, under the dirt in the jungle outskirts.
But always, the fire races up my throat as my eyes slide open. And this time, the name…the name I have searched for through time and the dark whispers out over my lips.
Beat, beat, beat.
Contract, expand.
Burn, burn, burn.
Warm highways, pushing gushing liquid beneath her beautiful skin.
In one swift and utterly smooth movement, I rise from the bed and grip the woman’s shoulders. There it is: the old, old as time, familiar sensation of my fangs lengthening, followed by the pooling of toxins in my mouth.
I’m sure she is terrified. But she doesn’t move. Doesn’t scream.
And I don’t care.
My fangs sink into her neck and as soon as I pull, she’s utterly still.
I draw in her blood. It rushes over my tongue. Down my throat. It pools in my belly. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough the first time to cool the burning inside of me.
So I suck harder. I draw it out of her.
Every.
Drop.
Slowly, the woman begins to grow limp in my arms. Slowly, her body begins to collapse. My hands wrap around her waist, easily supporting her weight, holding her tight as I continue to drink.
She grows lighter, and I grow heavier.
As the flow begins to slow, I feel my burning body begin to cool. The flames stop licking up my legs. Acid stops racing through my arms. The heat in my throat cools from a raging inferno to a dull burn.
Finally, as I pull the last drop, the heat is extinguished.
A contented sigh crosses my lips as I release the woman and let her exsanguinated body collapse to the ground.
Two people react inside of me—the one that feels the most familiar, the one I know I am, and the one who feels so far away, but rooted in my heart.
One is horrified. One screams that I’ve just killed a woman, that I did that.
The other regrets it, but knows it is only part of the circle of life.
Motion to my left pulls my attention.
And everything in me stills. Goes hot and cold at the same time. Falls backward through thousands of years and bounces off the moments just before my death.
Cyrus slowly steps forward, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly slack. Hope, fear, they’re both there in equal measures in his eyes.
“What did you just say?” he breathes, his eyes wide and fixed on my face.
I stand frozen, rooted, staring back at him. A violent storm rages through me, roaring with wind and rain and sand.
Emotion rises in me and it pricks the back of my eyes.
Finally, after all this time.
“I beg of you,” Cyrus whispers as he comes to a stop, just two feet in front of me. “Please tell me what you just said.”
He’s poised. Every muscle in his body is on edge. Ready to rush forward. Ready to rage in disappointment. Ready to tear this entire world down.
He can do it.
I know he can.
He can do anything.
A single tear pushes out onto my cheek, silently slipping down my face.
Slowly, Cyrus raises his hands to my face, placing one on each cheek. With his thumb, he brushes my tear away.
“What did you just say?” he whispers again, so quiet, that just four days ago, I would not have been able to hear his words.
I squeeze my eyes closed for just a moment, forcing out more tears. I take one breath, searching inside of me.
No. Please no, I offer up a silent prayer.
But I can’t deny the truth.
I know the truth.
I know exactly who I am.
“Sevan,” I say, with my voice clear as day.
Cyrus’ eyes widen, and his breathing stops. Crystal clear, so transparent I can see right down to his heart.
“I never once said that name to Logan,” he says, his voice holding a quiver. “I commanded that no other breathe it, either.” I see the desperation clawing its way to the surface. “Logan never knew that name.”
All of my insides tremble.
I’m going to fall apart.
I shake my head. “No,” I breathe. “You never told me.” I raise my hand, lacing my fingers into his hair, cupping around the back of his head. “But I remember, im yndmisht srtov.”
He takes a shaky, short intake of breath as his eyes fill with tears. “Sevan,” he breathes. And neither he, nor I, in some parts of me, can stand the separation any longer. His arms wrap around me, pulling us together, crushing our hearts together.
“Sevan,” he breathes, over and over. “Sevan, im yndmisht srtov.”
Sevan, my forever heart.
Spoken in our original tongue, the language we both spoke at one time. A time when I was just a girl, and he, a boy.
“All this time,” Cyrus breathes. “So many years. Too many centuries.”
His voice cracks, and his words come out mixed with sobs and cries.
He releases me, once more looking into my eyes as he places his hands on either side of my face. His own is red, tears staining his cheeks, his eyes bloodshot with emotion. But he smiles. Bigger and wider and more genuinely real than I’ve ever seen as Logan Pierce.
I feel emotions rip inside of me. My heart can’t handle the two parts of me that truly are one.
The love in his eyes. The devotion I feel in his very hands. The relief in his shoulders.
For a woman I was not for the past twenty years.
“I pray a thousand prayers of gratitude,” Cyrus says as his eyes study mine and I witness his absolute joy. “For the days we have right now, for the uncertainty we don’t have to endure over the next few weeks. Never,” he shakes his head, still smiling wide. “Never before has it all come back to you in the very moment of Resurrection.”
He lets out a relieved sigh, still so overjoyed.
And he leans forward, his eyes beginning to slide closed.
I take a step back before he can kiss me, stepping out of his grasp.
His eyes fly open, confusion filling them as they return to me.
“Sevan,” he says, his brows furrowing. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Once more, tears fill my eyes. I shake my head, taking another step back, away from him. “I know…” I struggle to form the words, to get a grasp on my identity. “Please, don’t call me that. Not…not yet.”
His expression slackens slightly and I see the confusion and searching behind his eyes. He doubts. Maybe I’m not Sevan. But there’s no way I could have known her name if I wasn’t. There is no way I would have known our name for one another from thousands of years ago if I wasn’t.
“It’s alright,” he says, swallowing once. “I’m sorry, Lo…” He takes one breath, struggling over the word. For just a moment, his eyes fall away. And I understand. After all this time, I deny it of him. “I’m sorry, Logan.”
Tears fall from my eyes, and I can’t stop them. I shake my head as I take one step away. “It’s not alright,” I say as I continue shaking my head. “I am so tired, Cyrus. Over and over and over again this happens, and over and over we have played this moment. But still, no matter how happy we might be for a time, no matter how we try to change ourselves to reverse what you did, we know the fate coming for us. For me.”
I turn, bracing my hands on the dresser along the wall, letting my head fall between my shoulders.
I cry.
I cry as Logan. I cry as Sevan.
I cry as a broken woman.
I hear his footsteps as he slowly walks over the carpet. His hands warm my arms as he places them on me. One of his hands slides up, cupping around my shoulder as his other slithers around my waist and his body molds to mine from behind, cradling me against him.