by Sarah Piper
Outside, the city had already faded away, the highway a dark and comforting escape.
You’re safe, girl. Just a bad memory. Let it go.
“I’m okay,” she said, her voice thin and watery. “I just… I need a minute.”
Dorian backed off completely, giving her some much-needed space, though the air between them was heavy with his obvious concern.
Charley’s hands and feet tingled with the leftover effects of the panic attack. She tried to slow her breathing. Her lungs ached, her throat burning with unshed tears.
God dammit. She was naked in the back of a limo, and instead of putting that nakedness to good use with her sexy, commanding, hot-as-fuck vampire, she was sitting there shivering, embarrassed, and pissed off—at herself, at those fucking animals who’d hurt her when she was a kid, at her father and uncle. She wanted her fucking life back. Yet every time she got a little closer, the past stomped right back into her heart and snatched it away.
Was this her eternal punishment? Would she always be a scared little girl inside, chasing after those big-girl dreams that would forever remain just out of reach?
“I’m sorry.” She finally turned to face him again. “For a split second I couldn’t breathe, and you were on top of me on the seat, and I just… My mind flashed back to a really shitty place.”
“Rogozin,” Dorian whispered, and she nodded.
He knew. Of course he knew.
“Charlotte…” Dorian’s eyes filled with compassion, but she rushed in with another apology, shame heating her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Dorian. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was stupid. It was all me.”
“No, love. You didn’t do anything wrong either.” He took her hand and squeezed—a soft, supportive gesture that meant more to her in that moment than he could’ve possibly imagined. “Don’t ever apologize for that. It wasn’t your fault. Not what happened back then, and not what you’re feeling about it now.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, but his words calmed her, and she leaned back and rested her head in his lap. He traced soft patterns across her forehead, and they rode in silence for several minutes until the panic fully subsided and she finally felt like she could breathe again.
“Thank you.” She gazed up into his honey-brown eyes, centering herself, slowly finding her way back.
His only response was a soft smile, but it was all the encouragement she needed.
“I know that was a bit of a mood-killer, but… I still want to… to be with you.” Charley sat up, her shame melting away in the wake of his strong, silent support. “If you still want to?”
He laughed. “Charlotte, when it comes to you, I always still want to.”
Feeling a little bit braver and a whole lot better, she slipped out of his jacket, crawled into his lap, and straddled him.
Dorian buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. “You’re sure you’re all right? We don’t have to do—”
“I want to. I promise.” Charley’s smile returned, along with a little more bravery. “But maybe… just for tonight… I think I need to be in charge.”
She’d never asked for it before—never even wanted it. She’d always loved submitting to him, loved their games, loved his sexy demands and his firm, punishing touch. But it felt important tonight—a chance to snatch something back from the old ghosts still trying to control her. She didn’t want to be afraid of them anymore. Didn’t want to constantly relive that ancient trauma. It would always be part of her history—part of who she’d become, for better or worse. But it didn’t need to be part of her present.
Maybe, calling the shots in the limo with a man she trusted—a man she loved—would help her.
Dorian’s eyes softened, and he nodded without question.
He spread his arms across the headrests and leaned back, already hardening beneath her. “You set the pace, love. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”
A surge of power shot through her body, and she reached down between her thighs, sliding her fingers over his smooth, perfect cock.
Dorian let out a soft moan, growing even harder at her touch.
“You’re… certain?” he breathed.
“Absolutely.”
“Hmm. And what happened to the VDD?”
Charley laughed. “Fuck the VDD.”
Who was she kidding? She didn’t want to detox from him.
She wanted to fucking overdose.
Now, gently guiding him to her throbbing center, she sank down onto that hot, hard perfection, closing her eyes as he filled her completely, bringing her back to herself.
“That’s… incredible,” she moaned, gripping his shoulders and taking him in deeper, rolling her hips to get the perfect angle.
Dorian let out a satisfied sigh, his eyelids drifting closed as she continued to ride him, harder and faster, taking exactly what she wanted, exactly what she needed.
True to his word, he didn’t touch her, though she could feel the twitch and strain in his muscles, desperate for it. Still, no matter how hard it must’ve been for him to hold back, Dorian gave her the reins, and Charley had never felt more alive, more turned on, more powerful.
She let out a soft cry, and Dorian met her gaze again, his eyes dark and hungry. “Doing okay?”
“Amazing.” Charley threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged him close, arching her back to press her nipple to his mouth.
“Suck,” she commanded, and he obeyed, teasing her nipple with maddening strokes of his tongue, then sucking it between his lips, his soft moans vibrating across the stiff peak.
“Harder, Mr. Redthorne.”
Again, he obeyed, sucking her in deeper, teeth grazing her flesh, making her ache. Between her thighs, his cock was hot and slippery, every stroke bringing her closer to that magnificent fall.
But suddenly, it wasn’t enough. She needed more than just the graze of his teeth against her nipple, more than the hot slide of him, more than his soft moans.
With a dark rush of desire, she knew exactly what she wanted next.
His bite. His real bite.
It was a dangerous pleasure, but one she knew they both enjoyed. Knew they both—after all the arguments and lies and near misses and hurts and fears—needed.
She waited until Dorian released her aching nipple, then pressed her wrist to his mouth.
“Bite,” she demanded.
He kissed her soft skin, but then pulled back, glancing up at her with wide eyes, a dangerous current running just behind his desire. “Charlotte, that’s not… a good idea.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Redthorne, but I’m in charge tonight. Was that unclear?”
Heat flared in his eyes, but still, he shook his head.
“Are you refusing my command?” she asked.
“I’m protecting you from making a terrible mistake.”
“I want this,” she said softly. Sincerely. She pressed a kiss to his neck, slowly working her way to his ear, rolling her hips to take him in deeper. Then, in a dark whisper, she said, “Let me give this to you, Dorian. Please.”
“But last time—”
“—is not this time.”
She pressed her wrist to his mouth once more, and his eyes filled with new lust, another moan escaping his lips. He licked her skin, then sucked, and she pressed harder, urging him, begging him for that delicious bite as she rode his cock and felt the first waves of her orgasm building.
And then—finally, brutally, deliciously—he bit.
It was nothing like she remembered.
Without the adrenaline that’d come from the penthouse attack, without the fear of losing him, the pain was infinitely sharper, shooting up her arm and across her chest, straight into her heart.
But then, Dorian began to suck.
He held her gaze, and as the first twinges of red leaked into his golden irises, the pain of the bite faded, chased by a pleasure so intense, it bordered on rapture. It filled her completely, heating her from head to toe,
her blood buzzing through her veins, her skin tingling with warmth.
Holy. Fuck.
She was so close. It felt like her whole body was about to come undone, every nerve ending sizzling, building to the same inevitable end.
She wanted to feel it with him. Every beautiful, dangerous moment.
Charley leaned forward and nibbled his earlobe, then ran her tongue along the edge, whispering the words she could no longer hold back. “Come for me, vampire king. Make me feel it.”
He groaned against her wrist, his dark red eyes devouring her, unwilling to look away. He sucked her harder and arched his hips, slamming into her, meeting her every wild thrust.
She felt his abs tighten, and then he tore his mouth from her wrist and let out a guttural cry that rattled through her chest.
“Fuck! Charlotte!” He came hot and hard, his body shuddering beneath her, pushing her to the edge of that dangerous cliff…
And right fucking over it.
“Dorian!” she cried out, and the orgasm exploded inside her, her pussy clenching as the erotic thrill of the bite combined with wave after wave of white-hot bliss. Blood ran warm down her arm, and her vampire licked a hot path from her elbow to her wrist, his lips as red as his eyes. Together they rode out the aftershocks, zooming along the highway like they were leaving the rest of the world behind.
When they finally came back to earth, she took his face between her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his blood-stained mouth, warm and salty and familiar.
It was hers. It was home.
Dorian had given her everything she’d asked for, and when he looked up at her now, Charley felt amazing and beautiful and powerful, like a fucking phoenix rising from the ashes of her old life.
“You,” he breathed, shaking his head. Anger burned in his blood-red eyes, but there was respect there too, along with a desire neither of them could deny.
“Did it work?” he asked, dragging his thumb across his lips, wiping away the last bit of blood. “Did you prove to yourself that your monster could stop the feed before bloody well killing you?”
Charley smiled, reaching out to smooth the grumpy wrinkles between his eyebrows.
“I’m not the one who needed convincing, Mr. Redthorne.” She pressed another soft kiss to his lips, then pulled back, gently cupping his face. “So you tell me. Did it work?”
His admonishing glare finally faded, replaced with a reluctant acceptance.
And then, at long last, the devilish grin she loved finally appeared.
“You’re going to be the death of me, woman,” he grumbled.
“Unlikely, considering you’re an immortal vampire and I can’t even properly wield a stake. But I do like bossing you around.”
He laughed and captured her in his strong embrace, no longer content not to touch her.
“That,” he said, nipping playfully at her neck, “was a one-time deal.”
Charley giggled in his arms, light and carefree, a few of her old ghosts floating away.
“We’ll see, vampire king. We’ll see.”
When they arrived at Ravenswood, the circular drive was full of fancy cars, with even more vehicles parked on the grounds. In a clearing next to the manor, a black helicopter loomed like a war machine.
Aiden was waiting for Dorian out front, the urgency clear in his eyes.
“What the hell is going on?” Dorian was out of the limo before they’d even come to a full stop, Charley close on his heels.
“If you’d check your phone once in a while,” Aiden said, “you might have your answers.”
“I was busy!”
Aiden took in their appearance—Dorian, his shirt untucked, his hair tousled. Charley, definitely rocking the freshly-fucked-in-a-car look. She wore it well, but still.
Dead giveaway.
“Malcolm has called a… meeting,” Aiden said carefully. “A business… council… meeting.”
Dorian fumed, every muscle in his body instantly rigid. In a low, menacing voice, he said, “You’re telling me my manor is filled with a dozen ancient bloodsuckers?”
“More like three dozen, and they’re not all ancient. He’s invited some new blood as well, no pun intended.”
A quiet rage rippled through Dorian’s body. “I need you to escort Charlotte upstairs at once. Where are Gabriel and Colin?”
“Gabriel is on his way back from the city. Colin is still… working on his research. He asked not to be disturbed.”
Dorian nodded, then turned to Charley, his eyes softening.
“I don’t want you to worry, love,” he said, cupping her face. “But it seems my brother has invited some unsavory guests into our home. I need you to go with Aiden and stay in the bedroom. I’ll join you as soon as I can rid us of these… intruders.”
Charley nodded. Aiden and Dorian’s brothers were intimidating enough; she had zero interest in meeting three dozen more.
“Your bedroom?” she asked, just to be sure.
Dorian smiled. “I wouldn’t have you stay anywhere else, Ms. D’Amico.”
Charley couldn’t hide her grin. After last weekend’s banishment to the guest bedroom, the invitation felt like an extension of trust—a trust she wouldn’t take for granted again.
“I’ll be with you shortly,” he said.
“Are you sure? It sounds like you’ve got a lot going on.”
“I do. And none of it is as important as you.” He leaned in and brushed a sweet, sexy kiss to her lips. “Will you wait for me tonight, love?”
Charley nodded, her chest filling with a different kind of warmth—one that had nothing to do with his sexy kisses and masterful touch. “I will always wait for you, vampire king.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was worse than Dorian had imagined.
Crammed into the dining room he despised, some camped around the table, others standing shoulder to shoulder behind them, three dozen vampires bickered and speculated and otherwise fouled up all the air in the room.
Dorian’s air.
House Connelly, House Pritchard, House Dade. Thompson and Blackburn, Morris, Deegan, Silvestri. A good lot of them Dorian didn’t recognize at all—clueless upstarts, doubtlessly eager to make a name for themselves.
Malcolm sat at the head of the table, a smug and self-important host.
When they finally noticed Dorian looming in the doorway, the room fell silent.
Malcolm glanced up at him, his eyes full of challenge and conceit. “Well! Good evening, brother. I’m so glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to join us.”
Dorian glared at their guests, each one shrinking beneath his scrutiny with nothing more than a few grumblings of “Good evening, King Redthorne,” and “lovely to see you, your excellency.”
Bloody cowards. And these were the vampires Malcolm had recruited to help usher in his new world order?
Dorian hated all of it. Hated all of them. Hated his brother most of all.
But oh, his evening was about to get so much worse than that.
A wet, wheezing sound drew his attention behind Malcolm’s chair, where two vampires from House Connelly stood before the fireplace. They parted before his impatient glare, and there, chained inside a metal dog crate behind them, was a sight that turned Dorian’s blood to liquid fire.
A gray.
They’d captured a fucking gray. And they’d put it inside a crate meant for an animal the size of a German Shepherd.
The wretched beast slumped in the corner, rocking back and forth, blood leaking from a wound in its side. Every few seconds, it bashed its head against the bars and opened its mouth as if to scream, but no sound escaped but that terrible wheeze.
Dorian dragged his gaze back to Malcolm, barely containing the fury burning through his veins. “Explain.”
“The gray?” Malcolm waved a hand through the air, as if the mere request for an explanation was an epic overreaction. “I discovered the poor creature on a drive through the mountains earlier—nearly ran it ove
r. I thought our brothers and sisters should be made aware of the dangers we’re facing now.”
“And you thought it wise to bring that danger into our home?”
“Relax. This one’s harmless.” Malcolm rose from his chair and approached the cage, then gave it a swift kick, startling the gray. “It’ll be dead by sunrise.”
Dorian couldn’t help but notice the amulet around the creature’s neck. “No, it won’t.”
He took a deep breath, temporarily stowing his fury. He’d deal with his brother’s treachery later. Right now, he needed to regain control of this ridiculous sham of a meeting and usher these sycophants out of his home.
“Friends,” he said, turning his attention back to the mob with a cold smile, “thank you all for coming. I want to personally assure you that the members of House Redthorne—along with our trusted associates—are doing everything in our power to track down and eliminate the grays. At this point, we have no reason to believe they won’t be contained.”
“And what of the murders in the city?” Kate Connelly—a friend of Aiden’s who’d first reported the demons’ presence at Bloodbath—asked. “What of House Duchanes?”
“Excellent question, Ms. Connelly,” Dorian said. “As many of you have undoubtedly heard, Renault Duchanes went into hiding after an unprovoked attack at one of my residences. We’re still searching for clues to his whereabouts, as well as proof of his rumored association with demons and their connection to the influx of grays in the area.”
A vampire from House Deegan spoke up. Dorian remembered him as one of the relics from the original council his father had disbanded—a former state senator. “While the members of House Duchanes continue to do his bidding in the city,” he said, “Renault has allegedly taken refuge with a coven in Paris.”
Dorian lifted his brows. This was news to him. “And you have proof of this, Senator Deegan?”
The vampire reddened slightly. “At this point, it is but a rumor, but one worthy of investigation.”
“And one I would be more than happy to investigate,” Dorian said sharply, “if you’d bothered to share the relevant details.”