Page 26 of A Kingdom of Death & Darkness
“Are they permanent?” Seven growls, his eyes hard on the Thorn King. It’s only then that I realize that Seven looks different too. Like Christian, small black veins trace beneath Seven’s skin, making him look like some strange marble sculpture. Christian’s come and go, but with Seven, they look more permanent. They don’t seem to be fading, but maybe it’s just temporary.
“Yes,” Thorn admits. “It was either that or die.”
Seven winces and glances at me. “That makes me a danger to you, Crymson.”
“You’re not a danger to me,” I growl. “Stop that.”
“He’s right,” Thorn admits. “We don’t yet know what changes will come with his new state of being. He could be volatile?—”
“If this is some way to convince me to send him away, it’s not going to work,” I growl. “He just needs to heal, and then he’ll be back to normal.”
He’s going to be fine. He’ll be fine. Everything’s fine.
I repeat those comforting words over and over in my mind but no one else in the room seems to share the sentiment with me.
Seven squeezes my hand. “There’s no more normal, Crymson. I can feel it. Like a thread in my veins pulling me toward a power I don’t know anything about.” His next breath rattles from his chest. “Something is... stirring. Something is... wrong.”
I glance at Thorn, worried, not sure how to help him. “What will happen to him?” I ask, hoping he knows something. Anything.
But Thorn frowns, and I know his answer won’t make me feel better.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “There’s no way to know.”
My chest squeezes in fear for the vampire I desperately want to stay alive.
SIXTEEN
Crymson
“We should call on Christian,”I say with a fearlessness in my voice that I don’t particularly feel as I stare up at the King of the Fae.
A warm rumbling laughter skims over his full lips, and his eyes shine with kind amusement before he finally replies, “No.”
“Christian will be able to help Seven. He’ll know what to do.” My arms fold with barely contained hostility. I’m holding back a tantrum my inner child would be oh-so-proud of but only barely.
Thorn places his quill down on his desk and pushes his fingers across his eyes as he takes a slow and contained breath.
“Every few days, a new vampire makes themselves at home here in my kingdom. Before you came here, do you know the last time a vampire was welcomed into my home, Crymson? Not in Aerin’s lifetime. He’s never seen a vampire in this place until Seven. And now just look what Delilah is doing to him!” His big hand lifts with frustration as he gestures out his large bay window to the man lying lazily in the grass down below, picking white daisies into a small messy bouquet. A beautiful vampiregirl in a black ruffled dress sips pink lemonade through a straw from beneath her blackout umbrella and gives the Warrior a little smile when he hands her the flowers with pride.
“Well. That’s hardly my fault,” I murmur, unable to take my eyes off of the man down below as he starts skipping through the field to fetch more flamboyant florals.
When I glance back at Thorn, he’s simply arching a brow at my denial.
He’s right, I suppose.
Thorn has invited the enemy into his home. With minimal complaint, if I’m being honest. All because of me. Allforme.
And Christian... my stomach tangles at the memory of the Blood Prince as he pushed me so easily away. A C is branded across his heart, and he placed me so thoughtlessly into the hands of his enemy anyways. Why do I still yearn for his touch when he so eagerly gave me away?
“Perhaps you’re right,” I whisper, and the words drop from my lips on a painful breath.
“I—I am?” Thorn stands from his chair, and he’s rounding the desk within seconds.
Starlight eyes search mine as his big hands slide up my arms.
He doesn’t give in. He doesn’t contradict his decision. But he is worried about me. Quietly worried.
“You feel... sad,” he says on a rumbling breath that kisses my lips.
