“Shameful,” I breathed, a lump of jelly, buzzing with afterglow while self-loathing crept around my perimeters.
Shame. Shame. Shame.
I saw Pearl, felt her judgment, heard it. By Aidan, she’d be so disgusted. I hated vamps, but she really hated them. Burn everything down to end them kind of hate, then salt the earth after.
But I wanted the world to continue without them in it, not for it to collapse.
I wanted… I wanted…
I rolled onto all fours and vomited. Tears burst free from the sudden impact of torment, a scream tearing from my throat.
I’d fucked the vampire king.
I’d fucked the source of all bloodsucking scum.
I threw up again, unable to move. If I stayed like this and didn’t look at him, maybe I’d melt away to somewhere far away from here where shame wouldn’t lash at my soul.
“It hurts,” I said, throat hoarse from the acidic spew. “It hurts… It hurts…”
I sensed the king move, my instincts spiking with warning. Saw him crouch beside me from the corner of my eye, a hand sliding onto my back.
A gentle hand to make me hurl.
What was he doing? Why would he want to touch me again?
Gently, and with incredible ease, he pulled me to my feet and cupped my face, forcing me look at him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his face carved from a dream. So handsome, my heart hiccuping.
If only things could have been different. Him not a vamp, me not an executioner. Two guys in different lives having a one-night stand without the aggression and the hate, without the vomit and the tears and the damn snotty shame.
I sniffled. “I?—”
He snapped my neck.
Everything plunged into darkness.
HERE COMES THE BEGINNING…
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SILVANUS
Ihad the elf’s body dressed in jeans and a T-shirt before he went into the pine coffin.
Truthfully, I considered tossing him into a grave as he’d been in death, covered in blood and shame. Or even burning him, throwing him into the ocean, anything other than this.
Once again, foolish mercy bested me.
I commanded some thralls to clean him and dress him and dig him the grave in the palace gardens.
Elio stood beside me, his hands folded before him. “You did the right thing, my king.”
The coffin was open, giving me one last look at his pallid, serene face. I wondered if he’d found a sense of peace wherever he was now. A peace I wouldn’t find without him. Unless the echoes of his song in my head unraveled the mysteries of the past for me.
“May I take your hand?” my loyal elf asked.
“Not right now,” I replied. “I don’t want to be touched.”
