“I brought two,” Cyrus says, handing me the glass bottles.
“Thank you.” I take the bottles, drinking the first one in one gulp.
Simon stalks around the tree in human form. The outfit he wore earlier is tied precariously around his waist, barely covering much. Redness fills my cheeks at his appearance. I’ve never seen a naked man, and the thought makes me feel like a ten-year-old.
“You don’t happen to have a sandwich on you, do you?” he asks.
Cyrus laughs. “I forget you need food sometimes.”
Simon joins the laugh. “Yeah, I don’t.” He turns toward the house. “I’ll be back.”
My buyer joins me on the bench. “You’re doing well, Violet.”
“Thank you.” I’m not sure that’s an appropriate answer for a vampire fighting a lycanthrope, but I’m going with it. Drinking the second bottle, I turn my body toward Cyrus. “Can we talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” he asks.
“Aurora.”
His energy shifts instantly. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
I scoff. “Cyrus, she wants to purchase me, and you did nothing to fight her on it.”
He falls silent, his eyes taking on a far-off look. “I’m not allowed to fight her.”
“Not allowed? What the hell does that mean?”
He stands, taking my empty bottles. “There arethings you don’t understand, and things you are not capable of understanding.”
I stand, matching his energy. “Not capable? What does that mean?”
“It means Aurora is my maker. I am forced to do her will.”
A horrible thought enters my mind. “Is it the same for Harrison and I? Am I forced to do his will?”
“No,” he answers, moving toward the wall. “Aurora is not like Harrison.”
I sigh louder than intended. “Cyrus, help me understand. You’re speaking in rounds or euphemisms or something. I need a bit more to go on.”
His shoulders lower, and his body relaxes. “Aurora enacted a spell on me.” I resist the urge to interrupt and ask questions. Instead, I wait patiently for him to continue. “An ancient spell. One that mixed her powers.”
“Mixed powers?” I lose the battle with my patience.
Cyrus turns toward me. “Before becoming a vampire, Aurora was a witch. A very powerful witch.”
For the first time in a while, I’m questionless. I stare, hoping for more.
“Aurora found me in 1566.” He pauses. No doubt to allow that date to sink in.
“1566?” I repeat.
“I arrived on the coast of Florida in the fall of 1565. I was a twenty-two-year-old, newly widowed, arrogantknow-it-all. King Philip sent us to get rid of the French.” Pale-blue eyes make contact with mine.
“That’s amazing,” I whisper.
He scoffs. “It’s arrogance at its finest. This land didn’t belong to the Spanish or the French, but both countries were determined to make it their own.” He looks away. “It was there that I met her.”
“Aurora?”
