Dark Obsession: A Vampire Romance (Vampire Royals of New York Book 3)

by Sarah Piper

  “Not happening. We left nothing behind. The demons found us in the basement—most likely, they’ll assume we were after the grays. Jacinda may already know we’re onto her about the amulets—it’s not a stretch to believe we tracked her to Estas’ place.”

  “Dorian, I left the external drive plugged into the damn laptop.” She leaned her head back against the headrest and rolled her eyes, a defeated sigh escaping her lips. “Amateur move, D’Amico. Total fucking amateur.”

  “The drive? That’s what you’re on about?”

  “My father’s probably rolling over in his grave.”

  “Really? Over this little bit of plastic and circuitry right here?” Dorian retrieved the drive from his pocket and handed it over. “And Aiden thinks I’m dramatic.”

  Her eyes went wide, a smile breaking across her face as she stared at the thing in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

  “It would appear that I am.”

  Charlotte laughed and set the drive on the dash, then surprised the hell out of him by crawling out of the driver’s seat and maneuvering into his lap, straddling him. Sliding her hands over his shoulders, she grinned again and whispered, “Dorian Redthorne, I could kiss you.”

  “Ah, but what a fall from grace.” Dorian ran his hands up her thighs and gripped her hips, returning her smile. “The fearless, death-defying, heartbreakingly beautiful Charlotte D’Amico lowering her standards to kiss an obstinate, demanding, boar-headed—no, wait. It was pig-headed, wasn’t it? An obstinate, demanding, pig-headed vampire—”

  She cut him off with a kiss that stole his breath away, igniting a fire inside him that’d been smoldering for days. Her thighs clamped tight around him, and she slid her hands behind his neck and fisted his hair, the familiar press of her body bringing him back from all the darkness they’d endured tonight.

  Her mouth was soft and warm and inviting, and there he lingered, tracing the contours of her lips with his tongue, nibbling and teasing, savoring the sweet taste of a kiss that was rapidly working him into the best kind of frenzy.

  There was no hiding her effect on him. In a matter of seconds, he was as hard as steel, his cock aching beneath her.

  “Dorian,” she breathed, rocking her hips and rubbing against his length, driving him absolutely wild.

  He tightened his grip on her hips, wishing like hell they were already naked. All he wanted to do was drive his cock into her hot, hungry flesh.

  All he wanted to do was make her come.

  But despite their mutual carnal appetites, something held Dorian back.

  He knew Charlotte was upset about Sasha—about everything that’d happened tonight. As much as he wanted to give in to this impossibly hot moment, he wouldn’t take advantage when she was feeling so vulnerable.

  “Charlotte,” he whispered, pulling back to catch his breath. “We don’t have to do this right now. I understand it’s—”

  “I want to.” She leaned forward again and pressed a searing hot kiss to his neck, then captured his earlobe between her teeth, her breath hot on his skin. “I need this, Dorian,” she whispered, running her tongue along the shell of his ear. “You’re the only thing that can make my mind stop spinning.”

  A shiver rolled through his body.

  “I can… certainly… distract you,” he panted, doing his damnedest to stay focused, but bloody hell, that hot, soft tongue of hers was making it nearly impossible. “But it’s not… going to… solve...”

  “I don’t care.” She pulled back, her voice breaking with emotion. “I’m barely keeping it together. Everything inside me hurts, Dorian. It fucking hurts.”

  “I know, love.” He traced his fingertips over her eyebrow. He knew he could bring her to ecstasy, but for once, he wished he could simply erase her anguish.

  “If you can take me away from this for even five lousy minutes,” she said, “I want it. Please don’t say no.”

  Dorian’s resolve crumbled. In that moment, there was nothing he’d refuse her.

  “Five lousy minutes?” he teased softly. A lock of hair had come loose from her ponytail, and he tucked it behind her ear, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I think we can do a bit better than that.”

  She was already reaching for the button and zipper on his pants, freeing him.

  “You’re certain?” he asked.

  Charlotte nodded, smiling again despite her pain. “Yes, Mr. Redthorne. Make me forget, just for a little while.”

  And just like that, Dorian was gone, lost to her desperate whispers, her eager touch, the warmth of it as she fisted his cock and stroked him just… fucking hell… just right.

  “Charlotte, you… I’m going to… You need to… slow down,” he finally managed, worried he wouldn’t last five lousy seconds, let alone five minutes.

  But she was relentless. Hungry. Insatiable.

  “I need you inside me,” she breathed urgently. “Don’t make me beg. Not tonight.”

  “As you wish.”

  In the tight space of the car, Dorian helped her out of her leggings and panties, but there was no time to remove anything else. Naked from the waist down, she straddled him again, then sank down onto his cock, wrapping him in her soft, seductive heat.

  For one brief moment, she stilled, her body pulsing around his cock in time with her heartbeat.

  Dorian touched his forehead to her shoulder and sighed. She felt so bloody perfect, he wanted to weep.

  They hadn’t been together like this since before Sasha was taken, and even though it had only been a few days, he was absolutely starved for her. After everything he’d recently endured—fighting off the grays in the alley, carrying her wounded body out of that dumpster, watching Colin stitch her up, bearing the weight of Isabelle’s crushing proclamation about her soul, torturing Rogozin’s demons, the fight at Estas’ place tonight—being inside her felt like a safe haven, a respite from every last one of life’s torments.

  If Dorian could’ve stayed there for an eternity, he would have.

  But Charlotte was already moving again, rolling her hips to bring him in deeper, desperate to lose herself to this momentary pleasure.

  “More,” she demanded. “I want more of you.”

  Wrapping a hand around her throat, he pushed her backward, her shoulder blades hitting the dash. The new angle of her body gave him even deeper access, and he thrust inside her, making her gasp. He slid his other hand beneath her shirt, running it up her taut stomach, then palming her breast. Beneath the lace bra, her nipple rose at his touch.

  Charlotte closed her eyes.

  “Fuck, yes,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”

  He had no intention of stopping. Not if Cole and Aiden emerged from the cabin and caught them in the act. Not if the grays returned and surrounded them. Not if the very pits of hell opened up and swallowed them whole.

  The thought of hell reminded him of the demon mark, setting his heart ablaze.

  I will not let you go, Charlotte D’Amico...

  He fucked her deeper, harder, but it still wasn’t enough. Bringing her upright on his lap again, Dorian hooked his hands around her shoulders and pulled her down hard against him, thrusting to meet her desperate writhing, driving into her wet heat again and again, giving her everything she wanted.

  It was so hot, so intense.

  Already his fangs throbbed, aching to break through, aching to sink deep into her flesh.

  Please don’t ask me to bite you, love. I won’t be able to say no…

  Dorian was damn near delirious with the thought, but Charlotte wasn’t looking for the bite tonight. Only his cock, which she claimed with a wild, feverish desperation, as if she could ride him to some distant, foreign shore where nothing bad could ever touch them again.

  The fog of their breath coated the windows, hiding them in their own private paradise.

  And still, they didn’t stop.

  Kissing. Teasing. Touching. Fucking. Devouring.

  “Charlotte,” Dorian moane
d, his balls tightening, so fucking close. Wherever she’d gone, he’d fucking follow, chasing her through all the darkness to the very edge of that achingly beautiful precipice.

  He slid a hand between them, seeking her clit. At his touch, Charlotte let out a cry of pleasure, her body tightening around him like a fist.

  “Fuck,” she whispered. “Right there. Right… God, Dorian. You always know how to… Yes…”

  “That’s it, love,” he murmured, quickening his touch. “Come for me. Let me feel you break.”

  “I’m so close. I’m… Dorian! Fuck!” She gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders, her whole body shuddering as the orgasm took hold. A pink blush rose on her cheeks, her mouth parted in sheer ecstasy, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her brow.

  Dorian couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  She was stunning—like an immortal goddess. And in that moment, he wished she truly was immortal.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of a world without her.

  Couldn’t bear the thought of his world without her—not even for a single day.

  He brought his mouth to hers, capturing her final moans in a kiss. She writhed in his lap, and he dragged his lips down to her chin, to her throat, lingering in the hollow above her collarbone, drinking in the taste and scent of her skin.

  “My vampire king,” she whispered dreamily, her body clenching him tight, and Dorian was gone.

  “That’s…I’m… Fucking hell, woman!” He came hot and hard inside her, marking her. Claiming her. Reminding himself that she belonged to him, as surely as he belonged to her, and no one—nothing—would shatter that bond.

  Not Estas.

  Not Rudy D’Amico.

  Not Alexei Rogozin.

  And certainly not some pathetic demon lord lurking in the bowels of hell.

  As the last, blissful tremors finally receded, Dorian stilled inside her, once again sensing the pulse of her heartbeat, the perfect heat, the softness.

  She smiled at him in the darkness, and he lifted a hand to cup her face, holding her as if she were the most delicate summer rose on the vine.

  Emotion welled in his chest.

  “Tell me you’re mine, Charlotte,” he said suddenly, desperate to hear her say it. “Promise me you’ll always be mine.”

  Another smile ghosted across her mouth, and she closed her eyes and touched her forehead to his, her breath warm and sweet on his lips. “I’m yours, Dorian Redthorne. Always.”

  Dorian closed his eyes, letting her soft voice echo through his mind and shore up his heart, as if her own impassioned declaration could break the curse that bound her to another.

  The curse he’d yet to tell her about.

  “I love you,” he whispered, and there in the quiet, intimate space of the car, the truth of those words—the depth of them—finally set him free.

  He would tell her about the demon mark tonight because she deserved to know.

  But in the end, the confession wouldn’t matter.

  One way or another, Dorian would hunt down the beast who’d claimed her.

  And one way or another, he’d destroy him.

  Even if he had to destroy himself in the process.

  Chapter Eleven

  They drove back to Ravenswood in silence, Charlotte lost in her own thoughts, Dorian struggling to find the words for his.

  He was no closer when the massive stone manor finally came into view. No closer when he pulled into the garage, navigating the BMW to the dark corner in the back. No closer when he turned off the car, listening to the familiar tick of the engine.

  The sound used to bring him comfort; it’d always meant he was home. That however terrible and black the day had been, he’d survived it. That somehow, he’d made it back to the one place that always brought him solace.

  Now, the sound reminded him only of a bomb counting down to its brutal detonation.

  Next to him, Charlotte let out a deep sigh, her shoulders heavy with some new weight.

  Neither of them made a move to exit the car.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she finally said, her voice impossibly soft in the confined space. “I can always tell when you’re holding back.”

  “Between you and Aiden,” he teased, “I’m afraid I’ll never be able to hide anything again.”

  “Are you still upset with me about tonight?”

  Dorian brushed his knuckles across her cheek and shook his head. He could no more stay mad at her than he could imagine spending an eternity without her.

  “Then what is it?” she asked.

  Then what is it… The ultimate question. There were so many thoughts colliding in his head, all he had to do was reach out and pluck one from the ether.

  It’s that I’m so in love with you, I feel as if my heart might burst.

  It’s that I would die before I let him take you from me.

  It’s that I can’t bloody exist without you, Charlotte D’Amico…

  “When I say you’re mine, Charlotte,” Dorian said, “do you have any idea what that really means?”

  A faint smile touched her lips. “That you’re a possessive, overbearing caveman? A trait I’m learning to love about you, but—”

  “It means you’re my heart. My soul. My absolute… obsession.” Dorian closed his eyes. Bloody hell, how had it even happened? Wasn’t he the one who’d sworn off love forever?

  He recalled that first night with her in Central Park, when he’d compelled her to forget the Chernikov demon attack. Even then, when she was merely a sexy, feisty stranger he’d ravaged in a closet, he’d wanted so badly to protect her from the darkness of his supernatural existence.

  Little did he know then, she was already on a collision course.

  “Losing you…” Dorian’s throat closed on the words, but he shook his head and swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. “It would end me. Do you understand?”

  Her smile faded, and she turned away from him. “I’m not the one who’s lost. Sasha—”

  “Will be found.” He reached for her face, turning her toward him once again. “And her tormentors will be brought to their knees, kept alive just long enough to look upon the face of their executioner, who will show them no mercy.”

  A soft sigh. Another smile.

  Both melted him.

  “My very own vampire hero,” she said, “charging in to smite my mortal enemies.”

  “I’m quite adept at smiting mortal enemies. If only it were as easy to vanquish the immortal ones.”

  Her brow furrowed, an she opened her mouth to question him, but Dorian spoke first.

  “You’re right, love. I’ve been keeping something from you. Dodging it for days, trying to find a way around it, but there is no bloody way around it.” He was still holding her face, and he forced himself to keep his touch steady, knowing this moment wouldn’t get any easier. Not for either of them. “Isabelle… She’s an empathic witch. She can sense things about people—about our souls.”

  “Right. She mentioned something about it the other night when she was trying to do a locator spell for Sasha. Has she found something?”

  “This isn’t about your sister, Charlotte. It’s about you. You’re…” Dorian closed his eyes, wishing he could hold onto this moment for just one more minute. One more second before he spoke the words that would shatter her world.

  But time, as it so often did, had finally run out.

  “When she was helping Colin heal you,” he said, “she found an anomaly in your energy. In your soul.”

  “An anomaly?”

  “You’re… you’re demon-touched. I suspect that’s why vampire compulsion doesn’t work on you—his claim essentially invalidates it. Perhaps only the demon himself can manipulate your mind. You were promised to him, and you… Somehow the mark… It’s all just… Bloody hell.” He was making no sense, all the words tangling up inside, his own terrifying thoughts bleeding into Isabelle’s interpretations until he could no longer find the begi
nning or the end of this dreadful story.

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Dorian. Demon-touched? A claim? What?”

  “You’re bound to a demon lord, Charlotte. Someone promised you to him. And according to Isabelle, the end of your term is… quite near.”

  “But… but what happens then?” Her voice was a broken whisper, her eyes wide with the same horror coursing through Dorian’s own veins.

  He did his best to explain, as Isabelle had explained to him—that Charlotte belonged to a lord of hell. That she would either die and become a vessel…

  Or live and become a slave.

  The demon’s slave.

  Every word sliced through Dorian’s mouth, as if he were spitting out broken glass. He couldn’t tell which hurt worse—forcing those sharp, jagged-edged words through his lips, or seeing the raw fear and pain in her eyes as she tried in vain to make sense of them.

  “I don’t know which lord,” he continued, “nor how to find him, nor how many demon lords even exist. I don’t know who brought this cruel fate upon you. I don’t know how much longer we have until the demon attempts to collect on his claim. But I do know this, Charlotte… I will not rest until I find a way to break this abominable curse.”

  She turned away from him again, her breath shallow, her heartbeat as quick as a rabbit’s caught in a snare.

  Rage boiled up from inside—at the demon, at hell, at whoever had made this promise.

  Charlotte was not for sale. Not for trade. That such a bright, vivacious human soul could be so carelessly bargained away was a fucking abomination.

  After an eon, she finally turned to face him again, her lashes wet with tears, eyes wide in the darkness. In a pained whisper that nearly gutted him, she said only, “And what if you can’t?”

  Dorian reached for her hands and brought them to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to her palms. When he glanced up at her again, his own eyes blurred with tears, his voice shattering, his heart damn near exploding with the force of his conviction. “Then my last act upon this wretched earth will be to sign away what’s left of my soul. I will follow you to the depths of hell, Charlotte, because I love you, and I’ll continue to love you—in this realm or the next—for however bloody long eternity lasts.”