by Sarah Piper
“Will you please fuck off!” Aiden shouted, and Dorian spun around just in time to watch him shove a metal pole through another gray’s throat, then rip off its head.
That one wore no amulet, his body turning to ash before its head even hit the ground.
Certain that was the last one, Aiden dropped his weapon, the clang of the metal pole ringing out across the now quiet alley.
“Tell you one thing,” Aiden said, leaning back against the brick exterior to catch his breath. “These assholes are even more relentless than the pigeons in Times Square.”
“And they taste a lot worse too,” Cole said, dragging an arm across his bloody mouth. He’d just shifted back into his human form, naked and covered in gore, but unhurt.
A river of blood washed down the alley, mixing with the ashes of the dead into a bright red paste. Dorian tried not to slip on it as he picked his way toward the dumpster, heart thudding against his ribs.
Why was she so quiet?
“Charlotte?” he called softly.
No response.
A pulse of fear shot through his heart.
“Charlotte, love?”
Nothing.
The world tilted on its axis, nearly dumping him off.
No. She can’t be…
Behind him, Cole and Aiden fell silent.
Terror shook him to his core, but Dorian forced himself to continue that long, agonizing march to the dumpster.
A familiar scent rose above the stench of the alley, sharp and sweet. Unique. His.
It was Charlotte’s blood.
Fucking hell…
When he finally reached the dumpster, the scent of her blood nearly overpowered him. He wrapped his hands around the edge of the lid, closed his eyes, and made a wish. One fucking wish in his entire immortal life. This was all he wanted—all he’d ever ask for again.
Please, please let her be alive.
He shoved open the lid. And then, without looking, he hauled himself over the edge and dropped down inside.
The dumpster was mostly empty, but for a few bits of trash and broken bottles. And there, huddled in the corner, a small, dark lump.
Hot tears welled in his eyes, and he fell to his knees, afraid to call to her again. Afraid she wouldn’t respond.
But he had to know.
He reached out and touched her shoulder.
The lump twitched, and she lifted her head, turning to meet his eyes in the darkness.
“Dorian?” She smiled faintly, a flower blooming in the trash.
“Bloody hell, woman.” The breath rushed from his lungs, kickstarting that slab of meat in his chest. Ignoring the blood covering his body, he scooped her into his arms and got to his feet, drawing her close. “I’ve got you now, love. And I’m not letting you go.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Charley should have felt the needle.
She should’ve winced at the pain, but instead she was numb, sitting on a stool in the overly bright Ravenswood kitchen while Colin stitched up the cut inside her lower lip.
All of them had offered to heal her with vampire blood, but she was too afraid to try it, certain she was close enough to death that vampire blood would turn her.
Both of her hands were bandaged, and someone had stripped off her clothes and put her in one of Dorian’s oversized white T-shirts, but she didn’t remember it happening. Vaguely, she was aware of Dorian standing behind her, his strong hands gently rubbing her back as Colin finished his work.
There was a woman too. Isabelle—the witch who’d helped Dorian. He must’ve called her, but Charley didn’t remember that either. She’d been trying to do a tracking spell to locate Sasha, but without one of Sasha’s possessions on hand, she wasn’t having much luck.
Dorian’s touch was warm, but despite his calm demeanor, he was nervous; Charley could feel the slight tremble in his fingers. Somehow, he’d gotten to her in time. He’d dragged her out of that dumpster and carried her away from the clutches of something dark and evil—something she’d felt so certain was coming for her.
If those grays had been able to get into the dumpster…
She closed her eyes, willing away the images of their bloody fingertips shoving through the gap, the sounds of their hoarse moans echoing across the alley.
She’d been saved. That’s what mattered.
The thought should’ve brought her a measure of relief.
But every kind word, every gentle touch, every concerned look… It only made her feel worse.
Charley glanced down at her hands. The white bandages around her palms were stark against her red, raw skin. She wanted to scream.
These were the hands that couldn’t save my sister.
At her fresh tears, Colin assured her he was almost finished. But like Dorian’s gentle touch, his brother’s words couldn’t comfort her. They couldn’t bring Sasha back from the monsters who’d taken her.
“All set,” he finally said, packing up his medical supplies. He turned to Dorian and rattled off instructions for caring for Charley’s wounds—something about checking on her every hour at night. She should’ve been listening more attentively, but she couldn’t focus.
And then Colin was gone, leaving her alone in the kitchen with Dorian. Her vampire. The man who saved her. The man she loved.
The man she didn’t deserve.
“How do you feel?” Dorian asked.
Charley ran her tongue along the inside of her lip, wincing when she hit the stitches. Her head throbbed, and beneath the bandages, her palms stung. She vaguely remembered Colin flushing out her cuts with something that smelled like a hospital and burned like hell.
Her own uncle had done this to her. He’d kidnapped her sister. He was…
Oh, God.
“Rudy’s a demon,” she whispered.
“I know, love. You told me. We’re going to figure this out. Gabriel’s working on it—Cole and Aiden too. All of us. We won’t rest until Sasha’s safe and your uncle is…”
Charley nodded, the rest of the words unnecessary.
Dead. On fire. Tortured. Banished to hell.
Whatever got the job done.
Fear reached into Charley’s chest again, squeezing her heart as Rudy’s threats echoed through her mind.
She’ll be well taken care of… As long as you cooperate… you’ll be reunited…
He’d promised to return Sasha to Charley after the heist, but she knew better than to believe him.
He was a fucking demon.
A shudder wracked her limbs.
I have to find my sister. Now.
She hopped up from the kitchen stool, but the sudden movement made her swoon.
“Easy,” Dorian said, steadying her.
She lowered herself back to the stool and closed her eyes.
“Sasha,” she whispered. “They took her. Did you see them drive off?”
“No.” Dorian stroked her cheek. “We found you in a different alley altogether.”
He told her the story, but she suspected it wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. Her mind was so hazy. Her uncle, the demon eyes, the grays…
All of it was blurring together.
“Silas,” she blurted out. “That was the vampire with Rudy. He tried to compel me.”
Dorian pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for an eternity.
Charley grabbed his hand and held it to her cheek, slowly shaking her head. “I don’t remember everything. Why don’t I remember?”
“Shock, most likely,” Dorian said. “But Isabelle and Colin have both assured me you’re going to be okay. Just a little banged up is all. We need to watch you for any symptoms of concussion.”
Concussion? It seemed so minor, so insignificant compared to what Sasha was going through.
“But my sister—”
“We’ll get her back, Charlotte.” Dorian pressed his lips to her forehead again, his kiss as gentle as his voice. “You need to rest tonight. Can you do that for me? Let me work on
this while you—”
“No. No way.” Charley tried to stand again, but Dorian put his hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. She looked up at him through watery eyes, every muscle screaming in protest. The pain didn’t matter, though. Charley felt like a mother bear, overcome with a fierce need to find her sister. “I have to go to Rudy’s place. I have to get to him and—”
“And do what?” Dorian asked. The gentleness evaporated from his voice, anger taking its place. “He’s a violent psychopath and a demon, for fuck’s sake. And right now, he’s holding all the cards. He’s using your sister as bait. He wants you out of the way, Charlotte, and if you think he won’t finish the job he started tonight…”
Dorian’s voice broke at the end, and when Charley met his eyes again, she saw her own fear reflected right back at her.
She pressed her bandaged palms to her temples. “I have to try. I can’t just stay here and… and do nothing while she… and I’m… and the heist is… and…” Charley tasted blood in her mouth again, another cut that wasn’t deep enough for stitches but still stung like a bitch.
Fuck.
She was being ridiculous. She couldn’t even stand up, let alone face off with the demon who’d done this to her. She had no fight left—not tonight. She could barely breathe.
Charley felt like a child stuck in a nightmare, crying out for a mother who would never come.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Dorian whispered. He bent down and gathered her in his arms, pulling her to his chest in a suffocating embrace. “Nothing else matters but you and Sasha.”
“But—”
“Nothing, Charlotte.” He pulled back and met her eyes, the intensity of his gaze leaving no room for argument. “When I tell you we’re going to figure this out, I mean it. We’re going to get your sister back, and we’re going to make sure that bastard never hurts either of you—or anyone else—again. Do you trust me?”
Do you trust me?
They were only four little words—words Charley should’ve been asking Dorian, not the other way around. But now she was locked in his unrelenting gaze, his honey-brown eyes seeing right through her, stripping her down to the core.
She was vulnerable and scared, ashamed of everything she’d done to bring this situation to his doorstep, but when he looked at her like that—like he believed in her, like he had total faith in her ability to get through this or anything else, like he loved her—she felt strong, somehow. Capable. Wanted. Cared for. Unstoppable.
Forgiven.
Charley’s heart expanded in her chest, and the moment felt suddenly huge and all-encompassing.
The question…
Dorian’s intense eyes…
Those four little words…
They weren’t just talking about getting her sister back.
Charley blew out a breath.
She’d never, ever trusted a man before—not like this. She’d learned that lesson early on, and though she’d regretfully and stupidly allowed her life to be dictated and controlled by men for decades, she’d never trusted them.
But Dorian wasn’t those men. He was a vampire. He was a king. He was strong and honest. Sincere. Protective. Even after everything she’d put him through—all the lies, the trickery, the games—Dorian Redthorne hadn’t run away. He hadn’t turned her in to the police, or threatened her, or twisted her weaknesses into something he could use against her for his own gain.
Whatever had happened between them, whatever she’d done to betray him, Dorian Redthorne had come back for her. He loved her. He was here. Now. Right by her side. And one look into his eyes told her that he wasn’t going anywhere—no matter what.
“I trust you,” she whispered, and those three little words from the bottom of her heart paved the way for the next ones. “You have my heart, Dorian Redthorne. Tonight, and always.”
They were the same words he’d said to her last night, but only now did she truly understand the depth of their meaning.
Loving someone… That was easy by comparison. But giving someone your heart? Freely, without strings, without expectations? It was exhilarating and terrifying, like jumping off a cliff and having no idea what awaited you at the bottom. No idea if there even was a bottom.
But you took the risk anyway, because you knew—you knew it was worth it.
Charley smiled, and then closed her eyes, her body slumping forward with exhaustion.
Dorian caught her against his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“Ah, love,” he said, so softly Charley wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it. “What have you done to me?”
And then, for the second time that night, Dorian’s strong arms encircled her, lifted her up, and carried her away to a better place.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Isabelle? Is something wrong?”
Dorian had just gotten Charlotte to bed, and now he returned to the study to retrieve a much-needed bottle of his favorite scotch. But instead, he found the witch pacing before the fireplace, her shoulders bent with the weight of bad news.
“I need to speak with you,” she said urgently.
“Were you able to trace Sasha’s location?”
“I’m still working on it, but this isn’t about Sasha.”
“Charlotte?” His chest squeezed tight. “But you and Colin said… She’s fine, Isabelle. I’ve just gotten her settled. She’s already feeling much better, and—”
“Dorian.”
Her sharp tone, the uncharacteristic use of his first name…
Dorian’s blood turned to ice.
“May I speak plainly?” she asked.
“I’d prefer it.”
Isabelle let out a deep sigh, then shook her head, as if she herself didn’t want to believe whatever came next. “Charlotte… She’s demon-touched.”
“Demon… what?” He blinked at her, trying to follow. “What does that even mean?”
“It’s a claim, essentially. I can sense it in her energy field.”
“I still don’t understand. Does this have something to do with your empathic gifts?”
“Yes. I read emotional energy, which comes through your heart, your mind, and your soul. Feelings, intentions, thought forms… I don’t get specifics, as a mind reader might. Just general impressions. And with Charlotte, the energy of her soul is…” Isabelle frowned.
“Isabelle, you’re mistaken.”
Again, she shook her head. “There’s no mistaking the mark of the demon-touched, Dorian. It’s almost like a dark shadow—a mark on her soul. I’m sorry.”
“What the bloody hell does that mean?”
“It means that at some point in her life Charlotte was promised to a demon lord. And judging from the strength of the mark, the end of her term is nearing. It won’t be long now before he comes to collect.”
Promised to a demon lord? It won’t be long before he comes to collect?
Dorian shook with rage, his fangs descending, the familiar hunger rushing into his veins.
I’d like to see him try…
He glared at Isabelle, outrage turning his vision red.
“Why are you standing here blathering on about this?” he shouted. “Get rid of the bloody thing!”
“The mark is bound to her soul. If I so much as attempt to manipulate it, magically or otherwise, it will kill her. If she dies, her soul goes to hell, and her body becomes a demonic vessel. If she lives, her contract comes due, and the demon comes to claim her, to do with as he sees fit. There is no way out of this.”
She took a step closer and placed a hand on Dorian’s arm, her eyes full of a compassion he did not want to see. There was no need for such sentiments. Not in regard to Charlotte. This story about the demon mark… No. Dorian had never heard of such a thing.
He said all of this out loud, again and again, his mind spinning, searching for a way to tear the bloody heart out of this fucking nightmare.
Yet still, the witch looked at him, her eyes glassy in the firelight,
unwavering in her relentless concern.
“This is her fate, Dorian. There’s not a damn thing you or I or anyone else can do to save her.” Isabelle reached up and touched his chest, a tear glittering on her cheek. “Charlotte D’Amico belongs to hell. I suggest you make peace with that and say your goodbyes.”
It’s not over yet! Dorian and Charley’s story continues in Dark Obsession!
Charley and Dorian have found their way back to love, and there’s nothing the vampire king won’t do to protect his woman. But with enemies closing in on all sides and a demonic claim on Charley’s soul, is their happily ever after even possible? Find out what happens next in Dark Obsession, book three of the Vampire Royals of New York series!
Vampire lovers! If you loved reading this story as much as I loved writing it, please help a girl out and leave a review on Amazon! Even a quick sentence or two about your favorite part can help other readers discover the book, and that makes me super happy!
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XOXO
Sarah
About Sarah Piper
Sarah Piper is a Kindle All-Star winning urban fantasy and paranormal romance author. Through her signature brew of dark magic, heart-pounding suspense, and steamy romance, Sarah promises a sexy, supernatural escape into a world where the magic is real, the monsters are sinfully hot, and the witches always get their magically-ever-afters.
Her works include the newly released Vampire Royals of New York series, the Tarot Academy series, and The Witch's Rebels, a fan-favorite reverse harem urban fantasy series readers have dubbed "super sexy," "imaginative and original," "off-the-walls good," and "delightfully wicked in the best ways," a quote Sarah hopes will appear on her tombstone.
Originally from New York, Sarah now makes her home in northern Colorado with her husband (though that changes frequently) (the location, not the husband), where she spends her days sleeping like a vampire and her nights writing books, casting spells, gazing at the moon, playing with her ever-expanding collection of Tarot cards, binge-watching Supernatural (Team Dean!), and obsessing over the best way to brew a cup of tea.