The flames around me are burning so hot. So hot that hot isn’t even a word anymore. It isn’t real. It could never fully capture what this burn is.

I burn and I crisp and I scream and cry.

With a gasp, I sit up in the bed, my hands going to my throat. My fingernails claw down my flesh, because it hurts, it hurts so bad and I need to make it calm down.

“Sevan,” Cyrus says, and he’s instantly at my side, his hands on my thighs.

I gasp. It’s hard to breathe. Everything hurts. It burns. I suck in another deep breath, but it’s so, so painful.

“Wait here,” he says. I know there’s panic in his eyes, but I can hardly focus on anything. I’m blinded by the burn. “I will be right back. I will make this better.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m alone with the burning in my throat.

I stagger to my feet and make it to the bathroom. I turn on the water in the sink, desperate for anything to cool the fire in me. I put my mouth under the spout, guzzling water.

But it does nothing. If anything, it makes the burn worse.

With an angry hiss, I shut it off. Bracing my hands on the counter, I look up at myself in the mirror.

I shouldn’t have done that.

I hardly recognize myself.

I wither when I’m in the final slope toward death. I literally shrivel. My skin all looks tighter on my bones. I look like I’ve lost twenty percent of my muscle mass.

And my eyes. They look sunken. There are dark circles around them. I look like I haven’t slept in ten years.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep last night, but I did. After all the arguing with Cyrus, I was just exhausted.

Just one more evidence of what is happening to me. Being a vampire, I don’t need that much sleep. I had slept so recently, too.

My nostrils flare as the burn in my throat intensifies. My eyes are bright red when I turn away from the mirror. I stalk toward the door, even though my knees wobble. I hardly have the strength as I walk across the room and reach for the doorknob.

I can’t wait for Cyrus. I have to feed now.

But the door swings open just as I go to grab it. Cyrus steps inside with a terrified looking, wide-eyed man with a uniform on that says he works for this hotel.

My humanity is gone. I don’t even care about what I’m going to do. I grab him the second Cyrus pushes him inside and I sink my fangs into his neck.

With a frantic moan, I grip him and walk us back into the room. I hear Cyrus close the door, and he stands there watching me.

I pull and I pull. The man stands utterly still and silent, paralyzed by the toxins my fangs release into him. His blood is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s so sweet and so tangy.

But the burn. It says this is not enough. It’s still too hot, still too wild.

“Another,” I barely get the word out between pulls.

Cyrus knows exactly what I mean by that one word. He opens the door and leaves again.

I pull and pull again and again. I take his blood. It fills me up. There’s the faint sensation of being full, but almost just as quickly, I feel my body burning through that blood. Like it evaporates inside of me. I use it up almost as quickly as I can consume it.

I pull, so greedy, but then there’s nothing left. I suck out the very last drop.

With a frustrated grunt, I let his body fall to the floor. My human self is gone right now. I don’t even acknowledge that I’ve killed a person. He might have had a family. He certainly had friends. He will be missed.

I ended a life.

But right now, I’m only impatient for Cyrus to return with another body for me to drain.

Exhausted from the effort of supporting the man as I drained him, I sink onto the bed. I lie on my side, closing my eyes.

Think of something else, I tell myself. Think of anything else.

Henry.

The burn.

The cure.

The burn.

Do I want to take it?

The burn.

Burn.

Burn.

I let out a frustrated and anxious sound, and two seconds later, Cyrus walks back in the door.

I instantly find my energy, but only enough to sit up. And my exhaustion must look evident, because Cyrus guides the woman to me. And I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but she doesn’t even fight me as Cyrus sits her on the bed beside me, and I sink my fangs into her flesh.

It takes me longer this time to drain the body. My exhaustion is kicking in. Even sucking feels tiresome. So it takes me four minutes to drain this woman instead of the two it took to drain the man.

When I’m finished, I just let her body drop to the ground. I lick my lips.

The burn is better. It’s just like glowing coals now, instead of a raging fire.

But already I can feel my body going through the mass amount of blood I just drank.

I’ll be in pain again in just an hour or two.

Cyrus crosses the room again and kneels in front of me. He reaches up, caressing my cheek. “Better?”

I feel numb. Tired. But I force my eyes to find his face and focus on his eyes.

It was his eyes that I first fell in love with.

I nod.

He slides his hand around to the back of my neck and brings my forehead to his. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes. There’s so much pain and grief in his voice. I believe every syllable. “I’m so sorry that I did this to you, Sevan.”

I reach up, lacing my fingers through his hair, but even that exhausts me.

I want to say that it is okay. That I forgive him. And I do. But I feel so awful right now. I feel so wrecked. I feel like death.

“Just hold me,” I say. But speaking makes my throat hotter, makes it feel cracked and dry.

He nods. Carefully, he climbs around me. He tucks himself in behind me. I fold into him, and breathe a little sigh of relief. We fit perfectly against one another. Like he and I were molded to fit like this.

“Only two more hours,” Cyrus says quietly.

My eyes find the clock. Only two more hours until Henry agreed to meet with us again.

A pit forms in my stomach. Because I have no idea what I’m going to do when we meet with him again.

---

There’s a strange look on Cyrus’ face as we make our way back toward the apartment. I think that’s hope in his eyes, but there’s also fear, maybe. But those two emotions don’t fully describe how he looks. I’ve never been good at reading people, so I can’t tell exactly what it is he’s feeling.

But I can’t even focus on that right now. Not when the burn is back with so much force, it’s all I can do to not grab every human who walks past me and drain every last drop of their blood.

I wouldn’t have the strength. I can barely walk down the road. My knees shake. My hands tremble. There’s sweat on my brow.

I could lie down right here in the street and take the world’s longest nap.

We’re two blocks away from the apartment when my knees give out.

A woman and her child who were walking by see how fast Cyrus moves as he catches me. They take a long look at the sunshades we wear. But Cyrus doesn’t notice. He’s whispering in my ear as he carries me toward the apartment. He’s telling me he’s going to make everything right. He’s going to fix everything.

I like hearing his voice. I love hearing him speak.

But my head is pounding right now. Every sound he makes sends another wave of pain flashing through my brain.

I think of the death that is coming for me. It can’t be far off. I think of how peaceful it is, once the dark takes over. I think of how quiet it is. It’s comfortable, death.

I’m not begging for it yet. But it won’t be long.

I hear the creaking of those stairs and we’re rising. I worry about our combined weight being too much for them, but only in a very small corner of my brain.

The smell of abandoned space hits my nose and the world grows darker, to my every ounce of relief. Cyrus steps inside with me, and closes the door behind us.

“Everything will be okay,” Cyrus coos into my ear again.

My grip on his shirt tightens, and I nod my head.

He can’t make it better. This is death. This is the end. But I love him for saying it.

Even through my pain, I can hear someone back in that bedroom. Cyrus carries me and goes toward it.

Staring out that window once more, is Henry.

His hands are held behind his back. His shoulders are tense. He looks out over the water, staring out into the brilliant sunshine like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Henry is a man of science, I remind myself. He’s created a cure for the Bitten, a cure for any kind of vampirism. Who is to say he didn’t find a way to fix his permanently dilated eyes so he can enjoy the sun again?

“The country of Moldova has become a mecca for vampires, overnight,” Henry says. He doesn’t turn away from the window. He keeps talking, almost as if he’s thinking out loud. “Their government welcomed them with open arms and guaranteed they would be treated as with unique, high regard. And the state of Kansas is now crawling with thousands of vampires, all converging in the center of the States. The furthest point from any House, so they think they can get away with anything.”

In my brain, I’m picturing a map, finding Kansas.

They fall under the jurisdiction of the House of Sidra, but they’re nineteen hundred miles away from where it is physically located.

“The reports of the number of Bitten being created every day are astounding,” Henry continues. “Thousands by the day.”

My stomach feels sick. The Bitten are similar to the Born in that they drink blood. But they’re not as strong as a Born. They aren’t as fast. They don’t have the same kind of control over their thirst. And they continue to age. They grow old and die eventually.

But the worst part is the Debt. A newly created Bitten is compelled to obey its creator. They cannot say no. They would follow them to the ends of the earth. Kill anyone they were asked to. They would fight any war for their master.

It’s the reason Cyrus outlawed their existence. They have no control. They can’t help it.

Now there are thousands of them being created every day?

The human population could be hunted down and eradicated very quickly.

When Cyrus and I envisioned our exposure, we never pictured it going this way. We never thought of the mass numbers that would stoop to being Bitten in order to try and be like us.

I can’t even imagine what the world is going to look like in a year. In five. In ten. I don’t think it will even still exist in a hundred.

Moab and Lorenzo were successful. They brought us into the light. And they’re erasing all the lines between Bitten, Born, and Royal.

We’re all just predators now.

“I tried to stop it,” Cyrus says, bringing me back into the present. He walks over to the bed against the wall and gently lays me down on it. “I did everything I could to ensure this would never happen.”

Henry takes one breath, and turns partially back toward us. “That you did, Cyrus.” His eyes are dark, and there are a million accusations in them. But also credit. “For all your faults, for all your bloody mistakes, you did try to keep the world safe from you.”

My eyes slide back to my husband, and as if he can sense it, his meet mine. His lips are set in a firm line. His shoulders are tense.

I reach up, searching for his hand, and he gives it to me. His touch is gentle. Tender.

“I tried my best,” he says. And I don’t know if he’s still talking to Henry, or admitting this to me. He falls to his knees, kneeling at the bed beside me. “I created something I could not control. In my thirst for knowledge, I cursed the world. I was selfish, in so many ways, for so many years. But I know now. All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, was right by my side.”

He brings my hand to his lips and he gently presses them against the backs of my knuckles.

My heart flutters. He reaches into my soul, and for a minute, I swear he can just take me from this cursed, dying body and carry me forever. He can protect me. We can simply exist as one.

“This world is something different from the one I did not know I was creating,” Cyrus continues to speak. He doesn’t look away from me. I stare into those dark, dark green eyes. Green as the forest. Green as the deep parts of the ocean. “This is a new world. And I am so very, very old.”

His words, they send a shock through my heart. Like it beats a little too big, suddenly. A little too hard.

A tiny shot of fear and adrenaline shoots through my blood at his words.

My eyes widen.

His do, too.

And I can feel it. It’s a confirmation, that yes, this is what he’s doing.

“I am done,” he says only one second later. His head whips to the side, and he pins Henry with his gaze. Henry, who faces us, studying Cyrus with curious, surprised, doubtful eyes. “With all of it. With my quest for the incredible. With this species. With the crown. I’m done.”

I…I…

I have no words. My heart thunders. I’m floating. I’m buried twenty feet under.

What he’s saying…

Cyrus climbs to his feet, though he doesn’t let go of my hand.

“You may say this cure will not do enough for Sevan,” Cyrus says. “I don’t know if you’ve even decided to help us. But I offer you a bargain.”

“Cyrus,” I say, but I don’t know what else I have to say. I can only squeeze his hand, a question. Are you sure?

He squeezes back. Yes.

Henry doesn’t move a muscle. He stands there with his hands folded in front of him, staring Cyrus down like he can read all of his truths from his soul.

“Give me the cure, Henry,” Cyrus says. “I’m done with it all. Give me the cure. Save Logan. And we will walk away. From all of it. And you will never hear from me again.”

I smell something in the air.

I feel it. It’s cold. It’s like death.

It’s like life.

It’s light and heavy.

It’s the universe creeping in, coming to watch.

I feel it like it is a physical, real thing.

Cyrus stands a little straighter then, his eyes flicking around the room, and I know he can feel it, too.

Even Henry’s eyes search the room.

There’s nothing to be seen.

But we feel it.

“Give me the cure,” Cyrus says. And this time, he’s begging. His voice comes out desperate and quiet. “I’m done, Henry. Let me live out my life with my wife.”

The room feels too quiet. Like every flow of air has stopped. Like the world stopped existing outside.

The entire world is holding its breath, listening to the words it has taken Cyrus two thousand years to find.

Henry takes three steps forward, and a fearful sweat breaks out on my upper lip. I don’t know what he’s going to do. I don’t know what he’s going to say.

He stops right in front of Cyrus, only two feet away.

“I can almost see you as a man right now, Cyrus,” he says. “I can almost believe you are not only a heartless tyrant.”

I feel desperate inside. I want to convince Henry that Cyrus is good. He is beautiful inside. He may be imperfect, but he is worthy of a second chance.

I take in a breath, but it’s a mistake, because it only gives more oxygen to the fire inside of me. It sounds raspy. It sounds like death.

My husband squeezes my hand.

“Please,” Cyrus says quietly, his voice filled with emotion.

And that word alone should be enough to convince Henry to do it. I have never heard Cyrus say that word to anyone but me.

“I just need one thing from you first,” Henry says. His jaw is set hard, and he stares at Cyrus with such intensity, I’m surprised he is not a black melted pile of tar on the floor.

“Court had wanted to bring in a member of the Conrath family for centuries,” Henry says. He does not look away from Cyrus, but somehow I feel his words are for me. “Not long before I moved to America, my wife conceived. She brought forth a son. We named him Nicklaus.”

There is something familiar about this story in the back of my brain. Something back from my life as La’ei. But I can’t remember anything other than the name.

“You took him,” Henry says. “You tried to woo him with your castle and your willing human feeders, with the easy life.”

I hear the pain in Henry’s voice, and I know how this story ends, even if I was not around to witness it.

“And when he told you no, you killed him.”

He’s fractured. Broken. I hear it in Henry’s voice. He broke a long time ago, and I don’t think he ever put himself back together.

Alivia had a half brother she missed meeting by centuries.

I had an uncle.

“You killed my son.” Henry’s voice is little more than a whisper.

For the first time, Cyrus lets go of my hand. He shifts closer, nearly nose-to-nose with Henry Conrath. He takes both of the man’s hands in his.

“I am sorry, Henry,” he says. His voice is rough. As if it’s been lashed with one hundred whips. “I am not a good man. I have been manipulative and selfish and a tyrant. I’ve taken what I wanted and used others to entertain myself. I am not a good man.”

There are tears rolling down Cyrus’ face. I have seldom seen this kind of emotion on my husband’s face, and I’ve had two thousand years to study it.

“I lost my own son,” he says. He’s laying himself raw before Henry. Because Cyrus does not talk about our son. Ever. “I lost him even when he was a boy. Perhaps it was my utter failing as a father. So when I lost him, when I had to kill him, it ripped me to pieces. But I also felt relief.”

It’s a confession. A terrible truth.

But that’s what it was.

A relief.

We were relieved when our son was dead.

“So I cannot feel your grief as I should have,” Cyrus continues. “I took it too casually. But I have lost my wife, over and over. And with that pain, I apologize for taking your son from you. From the bottom of my heart. I am sorry, Henry.”

Neither of us gets a chance to react.

With Cyrus’ words, Henry raises his hand, and I don’t even see the tip of the needle before he sinks it into the side of Cyrus’ neck.

Cyrus gives a cry of pain as he sinks to his knees.

And there’s this…blackness that rushes from Cyrus. It fills the room, swirling, circling. It rushes around us, searching for an escape. It seeps out the cracks around the windows. It rushes out the door. It sinks down through the floorboards.

I blink. I can still see everything. The floor, the walls, the bed. I can still see Henry and Cyrus. But there’s this other…layer. That black. That dark.

As Cyrus screams, it pours out of him.

“Cyrus!” I cry, reaching a hand out toward him.

And where I was weak just moments ago, I feel strength rush back into me. I physically feel my muscle mass returning. The burn in my throat and my stomach are stifled.

I look at my hands, my arms, I feel my face, my eyes wide with wonder.

I feel it leaving me, too.

The dark. The blackness.

I can breathe.

I never knew there was a noose around my neck, slowly pulling tighter and tighter through every one of my lives. But it’s gone now.

Vanished.

Cyrus suddenly collapses to the ground. With a scream, I’m instantly by his side.

“He only sleeps,” Henry assures me.

And as I feel him, watch him, I do see his chest rising and falling.

I watch him, trying to reassure myself that he is, in fact, alive. He isn’t dead.

I can’t breathe. My organs freeze.

Because his smell changes. Just slightly. Just fractionally. But it changes.

It smells more human.

“Holy shit.”

The words come out loud and harsh. They actually startle me and I snap my hand over my mouth, but with wide eyes, I look up to Henry.

“It’s working,” I breathe. “He’s…Cyrus…he’s turning human.”

Henry meets my eyes and nods. “I developed it specifically for him. It will work. He’ll wake in about thirty-six hours, and he will be human.”

Human. Human.

Cyrus human.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

“I’m ready,” I say, climbing to my feet. I step desperately toward Henry. “I want it too. Give it to me. This is our chance, Henry. To have the life we were supposed to have together. Give me the cure, Henry.”

There are tears streaking down my face now. They’re amazed and a little scared, and so incredibly happy.

Henry reaches into his pocket and produces a vial. It’s filled with acid green liquid.

“Are you sure, Sevan?” he asks. “This. This is what you choose for yourself? For forever?”

Forever.

He says the word with absolute confidence. Like he knows.

And I know it, too.

Forever. This has to be my choice for forever.

Because Cyrus making that choice, saying all those words just a minute ago, he broke the curse.

His curse.

My curse.

If I take this cure, it’s done.

I’ll age. I’ll turn into an old woman, and Cyrus will become and old man. And we will die eventually. And that will be it.

For forever.

“Yes,” I say. And I smile when I do. I nod my head, and tears roll down my face. “Yes, Henry. This is what I want. More than anything.”

I see my confidence reflected in Henry’s eyes.

He gives me a nod.

He raises that vial with that green liquid.

And I give him one more nod.

And he plunges it into my chest, right into my heart.

A searing pain flashes through my entire body. Like all the heat of the entire sun was just shot into me. It’s so big I can’t comprehend even a tiny fraction of it.

So it only lasts a second or two before it consumes me, and I fall into the blinding white light and burn into nothingness.