House of Kings by Keary Taylor

Author:Keary Taylor [Taylor, Keary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BA
Publisher: Keary Taylor Book, INC
Published: 2016-03-08T08:00:00+00:00

“I’VE INVITED THE HOUSE IN Vermont to attend a party the night after tomorrow.”

Cyrus stands in my bedroom. His trousers hang low on his hips. His feet are bare, as is his chest. The muscles in his chest stand out in deep contrast with the shadows the fireplace casts.

He looks beautiful standing there. Dangerous. Fierce and seductive.

I walk toward him, dropping my coat on the floor by the door. The darkness creeps up inside me, whispering to my hurting insides to do some hurting in return. There must be balance. Checks and equalization. An eye for an eye, pain for pain.

A little bit of my humanity has been dying every day since I’ve Resurrected, and I don’t know if any more of it remains.

“Whatever you wish, my King,” I say low and seductive as I cross the space slowly. The heat from the fireplace warms my skin as I approach him. He’s cast in silhouette, a dark figure before the flames. “I look forward to meeting more of my Royal cousins.”

I stop before him, just a few inches away. His dark eyes trace my body, running from my tight jeans, up over my hips. They linger on my breasts, my curves exposed by my low neckline. They slide up my neck.

And I touch the tips of two of my fingers against his lower abdomen. Slowly, so very slowly, I let them slide up between the valley of his stomach muscles. They twitch and quiver with need at my touch.

“I think I dreamed of castles last night,” I breathe into his ear as I lean into the King. My lips hover just a fraction of an inch from his neck. “Of grand ballrooms and blood. Of death and life.”

“You did?” Cyrus breathes as he wraps his hands around my waist. His own lips linger on my collarbone.

“Perhaps,” I say as I press my lips to the hollow beneath his ear. I let them part ever so slightly as I drag them down, toward his shoulder. His fingers clamp harder into my sides. His body jumps to life, shaking and quivering in need. “It’s hard to be sure. The dream was so fuzzy.”

“We did not settle in Roter Himmel until ten years after our son was born,” he says as he runs one hand up my back, pulling at my sweater. It rips, a quick tearing sound cutting through the otherwise silent room. “The castle was abandoned, the town burned to the ground.”

His fingers search my exposed skin, his touch rough and demanding. I place my hand flat against his stomach, pressing myself closer into him. The breath hitches in his throat.

“You worked tirelessly,” I say, switching to the other side of his neck, just barely brushing my lips over his flesh. “You made it a home for our family.”

“Yes,” he breathes. I look up to see his eyes slide closed. The ecstasy is clear on his face. “Our son, he nearly froze to death that first winter. But we made it through.

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