Dark Obsession, page 19
And in that moment he knew, without reservation, he’d finally grant her wish. He’d turn her into a vampire—not because he was afraid of her human frailties, but because he saw in her a strength and determination that refused to be dimmed, no matter how much darkness life had thrown at her.
He wouldn’t turn her to make her strong.
He would turn her because she was already strong, and becoming a vampire was her choice—one she’d made from the depths of the same inner badassery that had allowed her to face the demons. That had allowed her to survive her father’s death and her uncle’s cruelty. That had allowed her to look into the eyes of a monster and see the human soul inside.
His soul.
Dorian pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips, then pulled back to admire those beautiful copper eyes once more. He could lose himself in them. In her.
How had she come into his life? How was it even possible she was his?
“Only one thing,” she said now, granting him the gift of a smile as she reached up to trace her fingers across his forehead. “I can’t read your thoughts.”
They were standing before the windows, and Dorian looked out through the glass, taking in the view of his father’s lands. His lands. “I was thinking about fate.”
“What do you mean?”
“For more than two centuries,” he said, “the Book of Lost Souls and the blade of the demon Azerius were buried here at Ravenswood. And a mere eighteen years ago, in a moment of abject desperation no father should ever have to face, yours promised you to that same demon. And somehow, across all the years, all the twists and turns, all the different possibilities, fate saw fit to bring us together.”
“So that’s it, then?” she teased, trailing her fingers down to unfasten the top buttons of his shirt, her touch making him shiver. “You think this was all some twist of fate? A stage play where we’re merely the actors?”
“Is that what you think?”
At his question, her fingers stilled over the next button, and the smile that had shone so brightly only moments ago faded. “I think we were both cursed with fathers who made terrible choices they convinced themselves were the right ones. And those choices—however terrible, however painful—set us on the collision course that ultimately brought us together. If you want to call it fate? Fine. Fate put me on your path.” She glanced up at him again, her eyes flashing with new fire. “But fate did not make me fall in love with you. It didn’t make us. We did this, Dorian. One kiss, one touch, one conversation, one heartbeat at a time. At least, that’s how I feel. If you feel differently, I—”
“Charlotte.” He covered her hand with his own and pressed it against his chest, his heart banging like a wild thing beneath her touch. “Do you feel that? For more than two hundred and fifty years, I scarcely remembered it even existed. And now, it beats again—because of you. For you. What I feel… My love for you… It’s not some cosmic whim or trick of the gods. It’s beyond explanation. Beyond words. Beyond all things. Don’t ever question it.”
Her smile finally returned, and Dorian touched his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent, her very presence.
It was time.
Dorian took one last deep breath, then said, “I have a proposition for you, Ms. D’Amico.”
“Is that so, Mr. Redthorne,” she teased, returning her attention to the buttons on his shirt. “Better make it a good one. Word on the street is I’m an excellent negotiator.”
“I’ve heard the rumors.”
Finished with the buttons, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, then got to work on her own clothing, losing the jacket, the blouse, and the suit pants in quick succession.
He stared at her, his gaze tracing the delicate lace outlines of her jade-green undergarments, his thoughts unraveling.
Charlotte arched an eyebrow, clearly aware of her effect on him. “You were saying, Mr. Redthorne? Or have you already given up?”
“Option one,” he said firmly, sweeping his half-naked goddess into his arms. “You remain as you are—an impossibly stubborn, fiercely beautiful mortal woman whom I vow to love and protect for the rest of your life.”
The meaning behind his words hit her instantly, and her smile stretched wider, her eyes shining with emotion. “What’s option two?”
“Option two.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, the words themselves feeling like a sacred declaration. “I will make you immortal, if that is still your desire. And from that moment henceforth, you’ll be an impossibly stubborn, fiercely beautiful vampire queen whom I vow to love and protect for the rest of eternity.”
Charlotte gasped, a new light dancing through her coppery gaze. “Sounds an awful lot like a real date, Mr. Redthorne.”
Dorian was captivated once again by her eyes, and for a moment he said nothing—just allowed himself to get lost in them, memorizing the threads of gold, the light, the sparkle, the storm.
“Is this truly what you want?” he finally asked.
She took his face between her hands and smiled. “It’s truly what I want, Dorian. But only if you want it, too.”
“I do, love,” he said, and despite his lingering fears, that was the truth. “But you must promise me you’ll do exactly as I say. Once I determine your heart has slowed enough—almost to a stop—you’ll need to drink my blood. Your body may reject the taste at first, but you have to fight through it. If you don’t take my blood, your heart will—”
“I’ll take it. I promise.”
“Maybe I… I should call Isabelle. Or Colin. If anything goes wrong, they can help—”
“No. Just you, Dorian. You and me.” She put her hand over his heart again and smiled. “I trust you. I trust us.”
Dorian let out a deep exhale. “All right, love. You and me.”
They stripped out of the last of their clothing, then he turned her toward the window again, both of them gazing out across the rolling hills to the river beyond. In the early evening light, it was a copper vein drinking in the last golden rays of the setting sun.
It was beautiful.
It was perfect.
Dorian swept her long hair aside, blazing a trail of kisses down the back of her neck, the taste of her skin a remedy that chased away the last of his fears.
Bracing her hands against the window, Charlotte arched her back, and he slid his cock between her thighs, entering her from behind with a soft, slow rhythm as his hands wandered her luscious curves. He skimmed over her hips, up the sides of her ribcage, sliding forward to cup her breasts. She moaned softly as he grazed her nipples, teasing and tugging, dragging his lips down the gentle slope between her neck and shoulder, hovering over her pulse point.
It beat for him, singing to him as it always did, an invitation as blissful as it was dangerous.
Taste me, I’m yours… Taste me...
Dorian’s cock thickened in anticipation, his fangs descending, everything in him throbbing with need.
Charlotte let out a sigh of ecstasy.
“I love you,” he whispered against her pale skin.
And then…
He bit her.
She cried out in pleasure, in pain, her body tensing, her heartbeat kicking into a frantic thrum as Dorian’s fangs pierced the artery. Warm blood pooled in his mouth, and for a brief instant he savored the unique pleasure, the richness, the utter decadence.
A possessive growl rumbled through his chest.
Mine.
He swallowed it down, the taste of it making him dizzy.
And then, at long last, he began to suck.
Charlotte finally relaxed into the bite, the pain receding as the intense pleasure took hold. He gripped her hips and slid deeper inside her, stroking her, teasing her, guiding her body through the wild sensations he knew she was now feeling—the rush of heat from the pleasure of the bite and the slide of his rock-hard cock. The lightheadedness as the blood loss set in. The unmistakable tug of a human soul desperate to flee a dying body.
And she was dying. Every second Dorian fed, he pushed her a little closer to that black, terrifying edge.
He held her life in his hands. In his mouth. If he took too much blood, if he didn’t initiate the change in time, if her heart spasmed, she’d die.
Charlotte’s hands slid from the window, her arms falling to her sides as her body continued to weaken.
And still, Dorian drank.
Taste me, I’m yours…
Deeper. Darker. More.
Taste me…
Her pulse slowed.
Taste me…
So faint, he had to strain to hear it. To feel it.
Taste me…
And then it was nothing more than a memory, and she let out her last breath, collapsing backward against his chest.
With one arm holding her upright, his cock aching for release inside her, Dorian dragged his mouth from her throat and bit hard into his wrist. He pressed it to her lips and whispered his command against her ear.
“Drink, love. Do it now.”
He waited, counted to ten, held his breath, but still, Charlotte didn’t respond. Not a struggle. Not a whimper. Not a twitching muscle.
Her body grew heavier in his arms.
“Drink,” he demanded. Begged. “Bloody hell, Charlotte. Drink!”
Suddenly, her body jerked to life, and he felt the warm suction of her lips closing around his wrist.
And then—finally, blissfully, miraculously—she drank.
She didn’t resist the taste. Instead, she sucked him hard, her velvet tongue lapping at his skin, her lips vibrating with a hum of satisfaction as she took her fill.
He felt the change move through her body, strengthening her muscles, warming her skin, bringing her back to life.
Back to him.
When she was strong enough to stand on her own again, Dorian released his hold and slid his hand down her stomach, slowly gliding between her thighs. Still feeding from his wrist, Charlotte moaned at his touch, her hips rocking as he rubbed slow, hot circles over her clit, fucking her deep from behind, bringing her closer to bliss with every long, hard stroke.
It was erotic and incredible, dangerous and seductive. But above all else, it was special. A deeply powerful, profoundly intimate bond that would eternally connect them. He was her sire now, but it wasn’t a position of power or coercion. They’d created this together. From their love, from their trust, from all that they’d come to mean to each other.
Love. He still wasn’t quite used to the word, to the taste of it on his lips.
For so long, Dorian was convinced love was a recipe for weakness and stupidity. But that wasn’t the case at all. It was fighting love—resisting it in all its forms—that had damn near destroyed him.
Charlotte saved him. She’d stormed the iron gates, cracked open his heart, and filled it with a light so bright, he could scarcely remember a time when he’d suffered alone in darkness.
And somehow, despite everything she’d witnessed at Ravenswood, despite all she’d learned about his past, she still wanted this life with him. She’d chosen it. Chosen him.
She was his woman.
His vampire.
His heart.
“Dorian,” she whispered, finally breaking free from his wrist. “Don’t stop touching me. Everything is on fire and I’m… It’s so… You’re… Dorian!”
She came with a last, desperate gasp, her body clenching hard around him, trembling, pulling him in deeper, driving him right over the last fucking edge.
“Fucking… hell…” It was all he could manage before a wave of hot, pulsing intensity swept through his body, and he came hard inside her, his fingers digging into her hips, his face buried in her hair, his soul no longer broken, but whole.
When they finally stopped trembling, when the wound in his wrist finally healed, when he could finally breathe again, Dorian turned her around in his arms and pressed his ear to her chest.
Wondering.
Listening.
Hoping.
And there, at long last, it was.
The steady beat of a newborn heart.
A vampire heart.
It was the most precious, most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
Charlotte slid her hands into his hair, gently tugging him back up to meet her gaze.
Her eyes were as red as the blood soaking her lips.
“Dorian? I…” Her lush mouth curved into a smile, and she ran her tongue over her teeth, gasping when she felt the fangs. “Holy shit. I think I’m a…”
The realization made her sway.
“Yes, I think you are.” He swept a lock of hair from her face and drew her into a tight embrace, the beat of her strong, beautiful vampire heart thrumming against his own. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hunger.
It burned through her like battery acid, making her ache and itch and writhe.
How had Dorian survived this? How had any of them survived?
Would it always be this way?
Charley couldn’t be still another second. She bolted upright in bed, shocked to find it was already dark.
Shocked to find her eyes needed almost no time to adjust.
“Breathe, love,” Dorian said, still stretched out beside her. He reached up to rub her back, and she instantly relaxed at his touch. “That’s it, Charlotte. Deep breaths. It will pass.”
“I feel so… buzzy. Like… like my veins are full of bees.”
He let out a soft laugh and sat up, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “You need to feed. We’ve got blood bags downstairs. I’ll—”
“Don’t you dare leave me like this.” She turned toward him, and in a move so fast it made her dizzy, she straddled him, pushing him hard onto his back. “I need you, Dorian. Right fucking… here.”
She rolled her hips, desperate to feel the heat of his cock between her thighs.
Dorian dragged his thumb across her lips, grinning up at her in the darkness. “Good to see some things haven’t changed, my insatiable little prowler.”
“I feel like I’m on fire,” she breathed. Every word vibrated through her mouth like a kiss, her nerve endings sizzling at his every touch.
“It’s an effect of the vampire blood. Newly sired vampires often feel extreme—”
She kissed him, smothering him, reaching down to fist his cock. He groaned and stiffened at her touch, sliding his hands up her back and hooking them around her shoulders.
Before she could guide him inside her wet, aching core, Dorian tightened his grip on her shoulders and blurred her out of bed, slamming her against the wall.
Fuck, yes.
Charley grinned.
And then she pushed back with everything she had.
In a blink, they were clear across the room, Charley pinning her man against the far wall, her blood surging with raw, undiluted power.
“Did I just blur?” she asked through a giddy laugh. “That was fucking amazing!”
“Ah, the first blissful taste of vampire strength,” Dorian teased, his eyes sparkling with light and love. He lowered his mouth to hers, stealing a breathless kiss, then whispered, “Devil help us, I’ve created a monster.”
She tested her strength again, pushing him back to the bed in another blur and collapsing on top of him.
“All that time,” she said, her hair falling into his face, “you were holding back.”
“If I’d shown you even a fraction of my full strength, I would’ve broken you.”
“I want you to break me.” Pinning his wrists to the bed, she hovered over his mouth and whispered darkly, “Fuck me, vampire king.”
A low growl rumbled up through his chest, and in another blur, he flipped them again, pinning her beneath his solid, muscular form. Without another word, he pushed his cock deep inside her, claiming her hot flesh in a single stroke that made Charley gasp.
She felt everything. Every inch. Every movement. Every red-hot pulse of blood running through his veins.
His kiss tasted like heaven, like sin, like the end of the world, and the raw, masculine scent of him pushed her desires to the depths of their depravity.
The best fucking kind of depravity.
“More,” she breathed, arching up to meet his every thrust, her body demanding all of him.
He slammed into her, again and again, setting her every nerve ablaze.
And still, she wanted more.
“Harder,” she demanded. “Fuck me harder, Dorian. I need it.”
Dorian let loose another possessive growl, and Charley growled right back at him, crushing his mouth with another kiss as he fucked her madly, deeply, hot and hard and desperate.
Her entire body hummed like a live wire.
This wasn’t slow and tender. This wasn’t dirty talk and bedroom games and naughty, delicious teasing.
This was mouths and hands and breath and fangs.
This was pulled hair and nails raked down backs.
This was a bruising grip, a devastating kiss, blood drawn and licked and sucked and devoured.
This. Was. Fire.
“Holy fuck,” Charley gasped, the orgasm building inside her so quickly, she hadn’t even felt the warning tingle of nerves. “Dorian, I’m so close. I’m… I can’t…”
Dorian pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach, lifting her hips and slamming back into her pussy from behind, pushing her right back to the edge. Sliding his hand up her back, he fisted her hair and pulled, fucking her harder, deeper, and then—with a final vicious thrust that made her cry out his name like a curse—she came, a white-hot explosion that ricocheted through her limbs and dragged him right along with her, and with her final breath of ecstasy, her vampire king shuddered against her backside, his fingers digging into her hips, her name torn savagely from his lips as if he’d been waiting an eternity just to say it.
Sex as a vampire had been fucking incredible—hotter and more intense than it had ever been between them, which was saying a lot, considering their mutual appetites and Dorian’s many, many talents.
But now, all Charley wanted to do was consume.
