Corrupt Kingdom

“Ivy. I’ve got you. Breathe,” I order, trying to calm her down. She obeys, sucking in deep lungsful of air as sobs escape her lips. Her entire body starts to shake, and all I can do is crush her into my chest, willing her to relax.

She’ll be okay. As my fear for her safety starts to abate, my anger creeps back to the surface.

“Stop fucking crying,” I demand. “You got yourself into this.”

“Just fucking kill me,” she screams. “You can’t keep me here. I’ll do it again.”

If we weren’t treading water and my leg wasn’t throbbing, I would throttle her.

She put her life in danger. On top of that, Boris is looking for her. I trust my men, but if the men on Alaric’s boat today saw her . . .

I don’t know what would have happened.

I start swimming back toward the shallow water where I’ll be able to drag her the rest of the way in. With every kick of my leg, the searing pain intensifies.

The throbbing is at an all-time high, and I am at serious risk of passing out.

When we finally get to the shallow shore, I yank Ivy’s arm, pulling her to my side and practically dragging her behind me.

She gasps. “The water . . . it’s red. Why is it red?” she asks in a panic.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” I say through gritted teeth. I don’t need to give her any indication that I’m compromised. She won’t get far, but I don’t put it past her to try running off again.

“Cyrus, wait, you’re bleeding.” She grimaces. Her face turns sickly pale as she looks at me. When I finally look down, I see scratches, scrapes, and a big fucking piece of wood sticking out of a gaping hole in my leg. “You hurt yourself”—her voice is low—“trying to save me.”

Fuck.

I’ll need stitches.

“Stop dragging me,” she barks. “Let me look at it.”

I let go of her arm, unable to carry her weight any longer. With every step I take, the

dizziness becomes more intense.

“Sit,” Ivy commands. “I need to get something to stop the bleeding.” She removes her sweater. “This will work,” she says. “First, we need to get that branch out of your leg. Is it deep?” she asks, looking into my eyes. Her blue irises are as clear as the water, and her blond hair is wet and clinging to her skin. She reminds me of a mermaid, a mythical creature that came up from the ocean to save a drowning sailor. There’s never been a doubt that Ivy is beautiful, but at this moment, she looks ethereal. Like the first time I saw her in the garden. The moment I took her.

“Why did you do it?” she mutters. “Why did you save me?”

“Because I couldn’t let anything happen to you. I said I would protect you.”

Her eyes go wide, her lip trembling. “Thank you,” she whispers with more sincerity than I deserve.

Light to my darkness. Good to my evil.

“Cyrus?” she repeats. “Is it too deep?”

“It’s deep,” I reply gruffly. “I have a sewing kit back in the house. I’ll need you to stitch me up.”

What little color that was left on her face completely vanishes, and she looks like a ghost.

“I’m not a nurse. You need a doctor.”

“You’ll have to do.” I grit my teeth through the pain ricocheting inside me.

“I can’t,” she screeches. “I’m not trained to do that.”

“You got us into this mess, so you’re going to get us out of it.”

Thunder rolls in the distance, signaling a nasty storm to go along with the rain.

“Let me help you into the house,” Ivy suggests, but I shake my head.

“You get Cerberus,” I say, nodding my head in the direction of the dog.

“Oh God,” she gasps, seeing the beast still lying limp on the shore. He hasn’t moved since I had brought him back to land.

“Is he . . . is he d-dead?” she whimpers.

“No. He’s alive. Get him back to the house.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” she cries. “I can’t carry him.”

“Not my problem. Figure it out.” I stand and limp toward the house.

“Cyrus, wait,” she calls out toward my back, but I don’t turn to her.

She needs to learn her place here. I’ve saved her. I’ll provide everything she needs, but if she betrays me, she’ll suffer the consequences. This would be one of those times. The sky is about to open up and soak the earth. She can’t escape that. Not that it matters.

She’s already wet. But the wind is picking up, and it promises to be quite the storm.

If she stops bitching, she might get the dog back in time to miss the worst part of it.

Right now, my concern is getting to the house and finding the emergency medical kit and some painkillers. If not, it will be a long night ahead of me because based on this storm, I’m not going anywhere tonight.