Rozelyn’s irresistible smell still lingers in his nose, despite the fact that he is already in Avril’s house—in which the pregnant Anaztasia Arryn is also staying.
“You okay, Cy?” asked Avril as he handed him a can of beer. Avril Arke’s backyard is so spacious and calming, as if the lushness of this place resembles a virgin forest.
“Not really. I…I have hinted to Roz that my heart yearns for her.”
A smile tugged on his best friend's lips. “What did she say then?”
“She didn’t. She was going to say something but she held back.”
Avril took a bite from a roasted seasoned pork belly and gave some to Cyrill. “You know what brother,” Avril spoke. “The reason why me and Ana are in such good condition is because I bravely told her that my heart always belongs to her years ago.”
Cyrill just glanced at him, “I’m listening.”
“Our wedding is coming. And to tell you honestly, we rushed it. Because, if ever something happens to us because of this havoc caused by Maebh and her minions, at least we are already bound by marriage, by matrimonial union.”
The two munched the meat and drank beer and munched again—with their bare hands until Avril continued his words of wisdom. “I am very sure that Rozelyn will be both the Queen of Vampires and Werewolves due to her being the Amalgam. Though I am still the Alpha, the leader of the Irish Pack, Rozelyn rules both of our kind. I am just the mere bridge between her and the Irish werewolves.”
Cy was about to open his mouth when Av continued speaking. “So I encourage you to go to her now and voice out your feelings. If you don’t, you’ll just be the unlucky one in the end. Remember, you are not the only one who took interest in her. Some men will just see her as some sort of political privilege—marrying for power and glory, not for love.”
His bestfriend is now on his shoulder and he could clearly sense that he is already showing signs of being drunk. Cyrill forgot to warn him that Avril is actually a ‘soft drinker’. He can easily be drunk even for just one bottle of can.
Avril is right. He should be manly enough to face Rozelyn. After all, they’ve been together under the same house for many years. Still, he didn’t manage to gather the courage to face her, speak to her, confess to her.
‘I am a coward…’ He tells himself.
But a little voice inside his head tells him the other way around. That he is one hell of a brave man, and the title of being the King of Vampires and Werewolves would definitely fit him.
They are both without living blood relatives now—him and Rozelyn. Well, except for him that he has his cousin Avril. Rozelyn may have Rosette as her mother’s half-sister but…They both grew up not having to spend most of their lives with their parents.
He saw Romaine—Mary Bathory—poisoned his mother when he was young. He is pretty sure as well that it was the same bitch who has ended Rozelyn’s father. And probably her mother too.
With all those recent revelations that he had known and all the threats of the Blood Witches he had witnessed, he’s now confused if he still has a chance to be with Rozelyn. He knew Rozelyn for being very protective of those she cared for.
But if he confessed about his romantic feelings…he will just be a burden to her. Especially when those heathens knew that he is Rozelyn’s kryptonite. Cyrill may not only put himself in danger, but Rozelyn’s safety as well.
Although, the fact that Rozelyn send away Romaine—Mary…his mother’s murderer who pretends to be his adoptive mother may already have a hint of his feelings. It would be very much impossible to not divulge this knowledge that she knew to her fellow bitches. And they would surely use this as an advantage, as a threat, as a weapon against Rozelyn—the one who now leads both the coven and the pack.
Everyone’s strength is also their weakness. Fuck that truth but who knows? He had been in this world for years already and Rozelyn only has been a vampire for months.
Cyrill even almost forgot that it’s Christmas week, that it’s the season of giving.
The only gift he wants beside him is the woman who he sees as his future wife. He will valiantly accompany her in this mission of retrieving the Primary Blood Rose. ‘Til death do they part.
He knows now that they have an end, that their immortality will soon be cut short. The Blood Witches have found a secret weapon—and hell knows what it is.
Cyrill knew that Rozelyn would not easily give in. She wouldn't easily accept defeat. She wouldn’t easily bend her knees and kneel in front of Maebh and Mary Bathory.
But if they will not…they all would end up like Grainne. Rozelyn is the only Thaumaturge, the Amalgam.
And if she’ll be the last vampire standing…all hell will break loose.
He wouldn’t let that happen. Never in one thousand years. He will tear those witches apart no matter what. Even if he’s only a Pasiphae Werewolf who can duplicate any vampire or werewolf’s powers for a short period of time, he would gladly do it.
He will die for her if he needs to.
“When is the right time? That you’re now standing before her corpse as everyone turns into a carrion or will you wait for our kin to end before you’ll voice out your heart?” Avril suddenly spoke, while eyes closed. Gosh, he’s now totally drunk.
“Do it now, Cy,” Avril continued, his breath reeking of alcohol. “There is no such thing as the right time. You own your time. You’re the only one who knows when is the right time and when is the perfect time.”
Cyrill nodded. The snore of his best friend drowns into the dead of night. He looked up to the stars and lay in the grass; the drunk Avril curled beside him.
“I shall be the king to the Queen who rules the Night…” Cyrill declared.
“Will you?” A voice from behind immediately made him sit straight.
When he turned back, Cyrill saw such an angelic, sophisticated woman. Her hair is the color of the night. Her eyes are the color of precious emeralds. Her smile is so on fire that Cyrill could’ve melted if he was a snowman.
She was beautiful, and tall. And magnificent.
And most of all, she was Rozelyn Nadeshiko Byrnes Zadzisai.