Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
A nightmare? “Hey, hey,” I cooed, gentle, so gentle, as I caressed his chest. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Born . . . rule.” With a roar, he jerked upright and yanked on handfuls of his hair. “Can’t lose . . . won’t . . . mine!”
Can’t lose . . . the crown? “Wake up, Cyrus.”
In lieu of a response, he punched his temples, as if he attempted to dislodge his troublesome thoughts.
“Stop it!” Please. I latched onto his wrists, taking control of his arms. “Sugar, I need you to wake up, okay?”
He wrenched from my hold and sprang from the mattress to stalk forward. Overhead lights switched on automatically. To my dismay, he tried to walk through the door. When that failed, he punched. Wham, wham, wham.
I leaped up and over, putting myself between my sleepwalking boyfriend and the entrance. There was no need to duck or dodge. Even in sleep, he was a protector, striking the door around me. “Cyrus!” I shouted as he drew back his elbow, intending to launch another strike. Blood dripped from torn knuckles. Desperate, I slapped him.
He went still and shook his head. Blinking rapidly, he lowered his arm.
Relief caught me up in a whirlwind. I petted his chest, cooing, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
His eyes found mine and narrowed. “What happened?”
“You had a bad dream and decided the bedroom door was enemy one.”
The color drained from his cheeks, and he gripped my shoulders. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not even a little. Come on.” I urged him back to the bed and applied pressure to ease him into a sitting position at the edge. “I’ll be right back.” I darted off to gather the first aid kit.
He said nothing as I cleaned and bandaged his abrasions. Though the medications must sting, he displayed no trace of unease.
“Do you remember anything?” I asked after finishing my task.
“I have a vague memory of fighting Felix and the other royals. Then you were ripped from my arms.”
Can’t lose . . . My ribs constricted. He’d referenced me, not the crown. “Only a dream,” I rasped, moving to clean the mess I’d created.
“Arden.” He grasped my wrist and tugged me onto his lap, sideways.
Understanding, I wound my arms around his shoulders. “It’s okay, baby.”
“Is it? There’s a residue of panic inside me.” Resting his cheek against my shoulder, he released a shuddering breath. “I don’t do panic.”
“I know,” I said, stroking his silken hair, certain Astan was at work here. The god spearheaded CURED, and this gonna-lose-her fear struck me as a play straight from their handbook. Get him all riled up, then offer him as the lone solution. “Tell me about your brother.” Felix not only had a starring role in Cyrus’s dream, but the brothers had been in Theirland together during Cyrus’s episodes of memory loss. Maybe speaking of him would jar something loose. “You love him, but you don’t like him. Why?”
Cyrus heaved a sigh. “He’s older by a year. Our mothers hated each other, but our father insisted on spending time with us together. We became friends. Played ball, laughed a lot, and cheered the other as he rose in rank. Then a rogue glower killed his wife, and suddenly everything changed. He changed. He puts on a good show in public, but in private it’s clear he lives only for revenge.”
My brow furrowed. “Rogue glower isn’t a term I’d heard.”
“A Soalian who no longer follows Soal.”
Hmm. I hadn’t realized such people existed, though I guess I should have.
Domino materialized a few feet away, snatching my attention. He wore his standard uniform, hood drawn down, and exuded determination and resolve. “Big things are underway. Mr. Vyle is on his way here. He’ll ask you about your experience on the battlefield, among other things. You have eleven minutes.”
He didn’t wait for my response but disappeared, leaving me with frothing curiosity.
Big things? What big things?
“What’s wrong?” Cyrus demanded, sensing my upset.
“We have eleven minutes until Mr. Vyle arrives.”
He traced his tongue over straight, white teeth. “Domino told you this?”
“Yes.” I pressed a swift kiss to the hollow of his throat before bounding to my feet and urging him to his. Having never spent the night with a man, I fumbled for the proper protocols. When in doubt, go with polite. “Thank you for holding me. I had a wonderful time.”
He allowed the subject change, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Thank you for allowing me to hold you. I had a wonderful time as well.” Turning toward the bathroom, he casually stated, “I love you.”
“I lo—like you.”
Beyond the door, he called, “You love me.”
“Maybe.” An idea hit, and I swiped up the first aid kit before stalking to the other suite’s bathroom, the one I’d used in the past. I rushed through a shower, brushed my teeth, and braided my hair.