Then he moved toward Nathan.

I wanted to manifest into some form I could control, so I could lash out at the Soul Eater and stop what was about to take place. But I knew what I saw wasn’t really happening. It was a part of the past, already over and unchangeable.

A pain in my head threatened to tear me apart. My vision clouded, but I clearly heard Nathan’s screams of anguish and terror as my senses tried to join me in the present. I saw twisted limbs, mangled torsos and flames, as though the earth had been consumed in them. Rivers of blood flowed through my mind.

I was back in my body, and Cyrus groaned as he spilled inside me. It was ice-cold.

I was going to be sick. With all my strength, I pushed him off me and rolled to the side of the bed. Blood, mine and his, was smeared all over the sheets. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the sight. “What is your father?”

The sheets rustled behind me. I suppose Cyrus sat up. “I’ve told you.”

“But you haven’t told me, really.” I wasn’t sure if the chill creeping up my back was from the cold radiating from his skin or the drafty room. “What does it mean, that one day he’ll rule?”

He heaved a sigh and flopped audibly against the pillows. “It’s all very complicated. I’d rather sleep than talk about this.”

“Sometimes in life, we have to do things we don’t want to.” I sat up so I could face him. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

Cyrus obviously wasn’t happy with my postcoital pillow talk, but I wasn’t about to back down. He considered what I’d said for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether I was joking or not, then gave another exasperated sigh. “If you really want to know.”

“I do.” I hugged my knees to my chest, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was to him.

“For years, my father has been searching for a way to recover his power. It’s a very secret quest, and even I’m not privy to the rituals and texts he’s reviewing.” There was a note of bitterness in Cyrus’s voice.

“Then how does he get them?” One day of consciousness per year didn’t seem like a lot of time to scour the libraries.

Cyrus let out a resentful laugh. “He has an assistant who does most of the reading for him. I don’t know who it is, but he’s assured me it’s someone he can trust.”

I wasn’t about to delve into Cyrus’s father issues, so I let the comment slide. “You told me your father was a peasant before he became a vampire. What power did he have that he needs to recover?”

“It’s not power he actually possessed. It’s the power he believes has been reserved for him. It’s locked away, waiting for him. He merely needs the key.” With an elegant shrug, he leaned on one elbow, a sinful smile curving his lips. He reached to gently stroke my arm. “But we can discuss this later.”