Dark Obsession, page 26
In his beautiful honey-brown eyes, she saw the soul of the vampire she loved, and knew she was right where she was supposed to be.
“I’m madly in love with you, my vampire queen,” he whispered.
She wrapped herself around him even more tightly, her heart full and happy as they found their perfect pace together, whispering each other’s names, kissing and touching until the sun went down and the seemingly infinite supply of hot water finally turned cold.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dorian had tied the silk scarf expertly over Charlotte’s eyes, and now he placed his hands on her shoulders, carefully guiding her into the remodeled dining room.
It didn’t even look like the same room anymore, which was how he’d wanted it. No longer his father’s. No longer the room he loathed. But one he’d rebuilt, intending to fill it only with love. With family.
His family.
In less than a week, they’d be gathering around the table for their first holiday meal together as immortals—the inaugural Redthorne family Thanksgiving.
It was centuries in the making, and for the first time, Dorian actually felt the meaning behind its name.
He took one more glance around the room, wanting everything to be perfect for the big reveal. New hardwood floors gleamed beneath deep gray walls, the white woodwork and trim like icing on a perfect cake. They’d widened the glass doors and topped them with sheer window treatments that allowed in even more light. A blond oak table and chairs gave the room a bright, modern look, complete with a centerpiece of roses from Rosalind’s garden. At the far end of the room, the hearth had been rebuilt by hand, with massive black and gray stones from a local quarry.
It was beautiful, and the thought of filling it with his raucous family again made his heart nearly burst.
Now, Charlotte held her hands out in front of her, as if she were afraid she might trip.
“I’ve got you, love.” Dorian’s lips brushed the shell of her ear, and beneath her thin silk bathrobe, he felt the quickening of her pulse. “Are you certain you’re ready for this? Certain you absolutely, positively want to see this?”
“Oh my God, yes!” A nervous giggle bubbled from her lips, and she bounced a bit on her toes, reminding him of the proverbial child on Christmas morn. “I’ve been ready all day, Dorian. Come on!”
“You need to be really ready, though. Completely, utterly—”
“Dorian! If you keep building it up like this, it’ll be a total letdown.”
Dorian laughed, coming around in front of her and kissing her playfully on the nose. “Not possible.”
“The suspense is killing me. Would you just—”
Dorian silenced her with a deep kiss, then slowly untied the scarf, letting it drape down over her shoulders instead. He held her gaze for a long moment, her eyes full of so much love and wonder, it made his heart hurt in the best possible way.
Bloody hell, I love this woman.
After one more stolen kiss, he finally stepped out of her line of vision, revealing not just the new dining room, but the gift he’d installed for her.
Charlotte gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth as the tears filled her eyes.
There, mounted above the rebuilt hearth, illuminated by museum-quality recessed lighting that erased every last shadow, was her painting.
Adrift.
“But how did you…” She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t believe it. “That’s impossible. I saw it go at auction. That night when—”
“Yes, I remember.” Dorian grinned and took her hands. “Let’s just say I made the buyer an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
Her eyes widened, and he rushed to add, “Quite legally, I assure you. I’ve got the bill of sale to prove it, along with the certificate of authenticity from the Smithsonian, who sold it to the family at the Salvatore years ago, all on the up-and-up.”
Clearly relieved, she released Dorian’s hands and approached the painting, admiring it up close. “Dorian, I… My God. It’s so beautiful, I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say you love it,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms again.
“I love it. I love you.”
“It reminds me of you,” he said. “Beautiful. Dangerous. But when the storm finally breaks and that little sliver of sunshine slices through the clouds… All I see is the light, Charlotte. The hope.”
Charlotte stretched up on her toes and kissed him, lingering in his embrace, and again he marveled that she was here. That she was his.
He’d never known a love like this, never felt anything so deep.
“It’s amazing,” she said, slowly turning to take in the rest of the room. “Everything looks so beautiful, and it’s… God, I can’t believe Adrift is here. Just… here, hanging in your dining room.”
“Our dining room,” Dorian amended.
She blinked at him and held her breath, tears filling her eyes once again.
Dorian took her face between his hands, gazing into those eyes.
Bloody hell, his life had changed so much in these last few months.
Charlotte had crashed through him with a force, bringing him out of the darkness and into the light, bringing him back to love, back to his family, back to himself.
Together with Rogozin’s help, they’d eliminated Chernikov and dismantled his entire organization, quashing the immediate threat of the demonic takeover of New York City. They’d slaughtered much of House Duchanes, reclaiming Renault’s assets for the crown, which Dorian was in turn funneling into projects toward the betterment of all supernaturals, guided by the new council they were just beginning to build.
After the Armitage Holdings acquisition became official, Isabelle followed suit, accepting Dorian’s offer to become the Redthornes’ bonded witch. In a new twist on an old tradition, she’d chosen to keep a workspace in the crypts next to Colin’s, but live in her own home in Phoenicia, which was just fine by Dorian. He was more than happy for he and Charlotte to keep Ravenswood mostly to themselves.
Gabriel and Colin had established permanent residences in the city. Colin opened a pediatric practice in Manhattan, even as he still worked tirelessly to further their father’s research, and Gabriel had made good on his promise to rebuild the club formerly known as Bloodbath—it would be opening in just two weeks.
Slowly, piece by piece, the Royal Redthornes were rebuilding.
But not all of the changes had been good, and many things remained shrouded in darkness and mystery.
Despite Gabriel’s constant pressure, the Duchanes witch Jacinda was no closer to the cure for the curse Chernikov had placed on them for their father’s treachery. The partnership with Isabelle had helped stave off the worst of the effects, but Dorian and his brothers were still struggling with light sensitivity and mental fog. They had to feed more often, and the tattoos faded quickly, despite Isabelle’s best efforts to replenish them. It wouldn’t be long before Charlotte and Aiden showed similar symptoms.
All they could do was keep searching. Keep fighting.
After the battle at Bloodbath, they’d searched the city for days for signs of Duchanes, but it seemed their elusive enemy had fled once again. Dorian had no doubts he was still working behind the scenes, gathering his followers for another attempted coup. While his alliance with the Rogozin demons had certainly bolstered their numbers, Dorian had no illusions that the Redthorne Royals were safe.
That they wouldn’t have to fight for the crown again. For each other.
They’d already lost one brother to this battle. They wouldn’t lose another.
For Dorian, the pain of Malcolm’s death was as sharp as it’d been on that rooftop last month, and though they’d searched his room and belongings for an explanation, Dorian never found answers to the questions he sought. They haunted him still. Had Malcolm betrayed them after all, or had he been working to protect his family all along, sowing seeds of discontent only to gain trust among their enemies? Had he truly intended for Dorian to kill him, just so they could summon Azerius?
Now more than ever, Dorian believed the strange presence he’d felt in the crypts every time they’d discussed the blade and the Book of Lost Souls was Malcolm, quietly lurking in the shadows, plotting in silence to save them.
To honor his promise to their mother to look after his brothers.
But Dorian would never know the truth, and not everything in life could be wrapped up in a neat little bow.
He’d always found it disingenuous to only remember the best of a man in his death, as if the darkness had never existed. It had existed, and it was as much a part of Malcolm as it was a part of all of them. Discarding it might’ve made the memories brighter, but it would’ve been another lie. And lies were a part of his father’s legacy Dorian was more than ready to bury.
So for now, he would love and honor his brother as a Royal Redthorne prince, remembering the light as well as the dark, embracing the former, slowly working his way toward forgiveness of the latter.
He took in the sight of the dining room again.
Yes, so much had changed.
And now, Dorian’s life was about to change again.
“I’ve got a proposition for you, love.” He slid the scarf from Charlotte’s shoulders. “Two options.”
She gave him a soft, devastating smile.
“Option one.” He tied one end of the scarf around her wrist and leaned in close, his lips blazing a trail of hot kisses from her neck to her ear. In a dark, deadly whisper, he said, “I tie you up and do very bad things to you tonight.”
Charlotte let out a sigh of pleasure, already melting beneath his teasing words. “And option two?”
“Option two.” He kissed his way down her throat, then back up again, grazing her earlobe with his teeth, his cock already throbbing for her touch. “I tie you up and do very bad things to you every night, for however bloody long eternity lasts.”
At this, Dorian tugged the scarf forward and brought her hand to his, then gently slid the ring on her finger. It was a stunning red diamond in an antique setting, as rare and beautiful as Charlotte herself.
“Marry me, my vampire queen,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and pressing a kiss to her hand, his throat tight with emotion. “Be my immortal forever.”
She stared at the ring, tears spilling down her cheeks, her heart banging wildly in her chest.
He’d rendered her speechless.
Dorian held his breath, desperate for her answer.
Outside, winter’s first snow had just begun to fall, covering Rosalind’s roses in a thick, white blanket.
Charlotte’s eyes lit up at the sight.
Yet it seemed as if the spring had come and gone again before she finally sucked in a deep breath and dropped to her knees before him, wrapping her arms around his neck and claiming him in a devastating kiss.
Dorian ran his hand over her head, down her back, kissing her lips, her cheeks, kissing away all of her happy tears. She leaned into him, and he loosened her bathrobe and slid his hand between her thighs, finding her hot and wet and ready for him, as she always was. A soft moan escaped her lips—a music he would never tire of hearing.
But she still hadn’t answered him.
“So what will it be, Ms. D’Amico?” he whispered, teasing her with feather-light strokes as his lips brushed her collarbone. “Option one, or option two?”
Charlotte threaded her fingers into his hair and let out a delighted squeal, the first of many, many more he’d coax from her tonight. The snow continued to fall, enveloping Ravenswood in winter’s diamond-white grace, but here in the dining room—in their dining room—Charlotte melted beneath Dorian’s touch, her eyes shining with love, her legs trembling as he made her come, again and again and again, all for him.
“Option two, my vampire king,” she finally whispered on a soft, breathless sigh. “Always, option two.”
Thank you so much for reading Dorian and Charley’s epic love story!
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I hope you loved meeting the Redthorne Royals and falling in love with Dorian and his vampire queen. Their story has come to a close, but don’t worry—we’re just getting started in the Vampire Royals of New York world, and there’s lots more family drama, supernatural politics, and red hot romance coming your way!
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So… which brother’s story is next in this sexy supernatural lineup? Hint: Oh, never mind. I’ll just come right out and say it because he’s just so damn angsty and sexy I can’t hold back for another second… GABRIEL!
Find out what kind of trouble the youngest Redthorne vampire gets himself into in HEART OF THORNS, a spicy enemies-to-lovers vampire romance that kicks off the next trilogy in the Vampire Royals of New York world—with lots of appearances from all your favorite characters! Read on for an excerpt…
Are you on Facebook? Come hang out with me and the other amazing Vampire Royals of New York fans in our private Facebook group, Sarah Piper’s Sassy Witches. Pop in for sneak peeks, cover reveals, exclusive giveaways, book chats, and plenty of complete randomness! We’d love to see you there.
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XOXO
Sarah
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PS - That sexy little excerpt is waiting for you! Read on for a sneak peek…
Heart of Thorns Sneak Peek
Are you ready for this steamy sneak peek? It’s not from chapter one—I wanted to give you something you wouldn’t find in the ebook preview—but it’s not spoilery. Just a little snippet from an incident in the wine cellar in Gabriel’s new club that showcases exactly what kind of vampire we’re dealing with here… and exactly what kind of witch can put him in his place!
Fangs descended like hot iron, a rush of raw hunger flooding his body. The demon he’d drained earlier had done little to sustain him, and now his primal need surged, mixing with other, baser needs until everything in him ached to sink deep inside her—his cock. His bite. His tongue.
Jacinda shoved against his chest, but Gabriel wouldn’t budge.
“I told you, Prince,” she hissed. “I’m no one’s butterfly.”
A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Not even mine?”
“Especially not yours.” Hatred filled her voice, her eyes glittering with malice.
It only turned him on more.
“Despite what you think,” he said softly, “I’ve never harmed a butterfly. But demons?” His gaze swept down to her mouth, then back to her eyes, where he nearly drowned. “I’ve bled and burned them. Vampires? Staked and incinerated them. Shifters? Starved them, poisoned them with molten silver, broken the wild beast that raged inside until there was nothing left of it but memory and shame.”
Her eyes widened, but the witch offered no reply.
“I’ve carved my name into the flesh of my enemies,” he continued. “Watched them bleed, rubbed salt into the wounds, and waited for them to heal—all so I could do it again. I’ve tortured without mercy, murdered without regret, sent more monsters to hell than there are bottles in this cellar and trust me when I tell you that nothing pleases me more than the sound of a fallen immortal begging for death.”
Gabriel shared all of this, his dark résumé, his private shame, his quiet threats, as if he’d ever carry them out against her. As if his soul was so far beyond repair, it would allow him to mar so much as an inch of her smooth, perfect skin.
No, he didn’t want to mar her. Only to frighten her off. To force her to say the words that would stop this inevitable train wreck, because he sure as fuck couldn’t do it.
Yet there she remained. Silent. Pulsating beneath his grip. Clove and cinnamon on her breath, eyeliner smudged beneath those bewitching blue eyes, glossy mouth parted in a bated breath held only for him.
He buried his face in the curls draped over her shoulder, nosed the soft skin behind her ear. Her raw-earth scent was intoxicating. Dizzying.
In his firm hold, Jacinda’s body heated, her heartbeat a frantic thing that seemed to know instinctively what the rest of her did not.
The witch was in serious trouble.
In a low growl, he issued his command.
One he needed her to obey… for both their sakes.
“Tell me to stop, Jacinda Colburn.”
He released her throat, his hand already sliding down her rib cage, down to her hip, then lower still, down past the hem of her dress where satin and lace gave way to those sheer black stockings. He gripped her thigh, held tight. Squeezed when all he really wanted to do was bite.
“I’ve a black soul and an even blacker heart,” he whispered, his warning as dark and deadly as the broken-glass wine. “The things I could do to you…” He nearly shuddered at his own depraved thoughts. “Tell me to stop.”
Still, the witch said nothing.
“Say it,” he ordered again, hitching her leg up around his hip and reaching beneath her dress. His fingers crept past the top edge of her stocking, trailing along the garters and brushing the bare skin at the back of her thigh, all the way up to the silky mound of her arse, barely contained by a lace thong. Goosebumps pebbled in the wake of his touch. His cock ached.
A gasp escaped Jacinda’s lips, but the word he so desperately needed to hear did not.
Dipping between her thighs, he traced the thong’s path with one finger, barely brushing the scrap of lace over her clit. Heat radiated from her core, and when he pressed against that inviting warmth, she shivered.
“Say it,” he ground out, his control slipping, his mind spinning with lust and fury in equal measure.
And oh, he was furious. Furious that she’d tempted him. Furious that she’d haunted his fantasies. Furious that of all the witches he’d encountered and despised and feared in this long immortal dance, this one—this prisoner, this enemy, this conspirator had thoroughly entranced him.
