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

by Sarah Piper

  For that alone, Dorian was beyond grateful.

  “I do have other news, though,” Gabriel said somberly, glancing back at Dorian. All the warmth left his eyes. “It’s about Malcolm.”

  “Have you spoken with him?” Aiden asked.

  “He’s managed to evade me at every turn, but one of my sources spotted him entering and leaving Bloodbath on more than one occasion.”

  “I thought Bloodbath was closed down indefinitely,” Cole said.

  “To the public, yes,” Gabriel said. “But House Duchanes still owns the building. They’ve been more careful due to the increase in police presence after the murders in the area, but they’re still around.”

  “So our brother was spotted cavorting with Duchanes vampires?” Dorian asked.

  Gabriel nodded. “As well as vampires from house Mirren.”

  “Mirren?” Dorian sipped his scotch, trying to place the name. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “Relatively new on the scene, though the older sires were around when Father first started making inroads here.” Gabriel retrieved the phone from his jacket pocket. “Young vampire by the name of Dominic, and another my contact wasn’t familiar with. He took these pictures.”

  “Dominic… Why do I know that name?” Dorian reached for the phone, glancing down at the screen. There were two vampires in the shot—one he didn’t recognize. The other, however, made his blood boil. His face was partially obscured by the shadows, but there was no mistaking that smug, youthful arrogance. “For fuck’s sake. Dominic was at the bloody council meeting.”

  Gabriel leaned his head back and sighed. “Fuck. You’re right. I barely gave him a second glance that night.”

  “Nor did I. Just long enough to put him in his place.” Dorian recalled the little twat who’d insulted him at that sham of a meeting.

  House Redthorne is not united… How can you keep our communities safe and at peace when you can’t even keep your own house in order?

  Well. The boy had certainly pressed that advantage, hadn’t he? Parlaying it right into a friendship with the one Redthorne brother who seemed to agree with him.

  “Malcolm’s gone full-on turncoat.” Dorian tipped back his glass, wishing the alcohol would burn the taste of his brother’s name from his lips.

  “There’s more. The bad kind of more.” Gabriel slid a folded newspaper from his inside pocket and handed it over—today’s Times. “Looks like our brother and his new friends have been doing a bit of midnight snacking.”

  A fresh hole burned through Dorian’s gut, and he knew before he even finished scanning the article what he’d find.

  crimson city devil copycat strikes again

  Two more bodies were discovered late last night in a dumpster in the East Village. Both victims appear to have suffered massive blood loss from puncture wounds at the neck and thigh. Police are not sharing additional details about the scene and are not speculating on the exact cause of the wounds, but have released sketches of three suspects compiled from key witness reports. Suspects are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Anyone with information is asked to contact the authorities immediately. A midnight curfew remains in effect for all of Manhattan.

  The first two sketches looked very much like the vampires in the photo Gabriel had just shared.

  The third was a dead ringer for Malcolm, and the sight of it nearly brought Dorian to his knees.

  All the bloody battles. The arguing. The cruel words. The threats and betrayals. The heartbreak.

  And this is what it had come to.

  “Witness reports can be unreliable,” Dorian said anyway, tossing the newspaper back at Gabriel. “We can’t assume—”

  “I’m not assuming anything, brother. But we need to consider the possibility that Malcolm is… not himself.”

  Not himself. Dorian would’ve laughed if the thought hadn’t so deeply gutted him.

  Fifty years after Dorian had terrorized the city he so loved, chasing away his brothers in the process, Malcolm was following in his footsteps. Could Dorian honestly judge him? Was this savagery part of their so-called curse? Would all of them fall prey to it in time?

  Who would be the next to succumb?

  Gabriel, with those cold and calculating eyes, the anger always simmering just beneath the surface, desperate for an outlet?

  Colin, swept away by his endless quest for answers, chasing their father’s ghost as he sought, even now, to recreate the cure that would surely kill them all?

  Aiden—kind, loyal Aiden—whose only fault was that he’d remained a friend to the family whose fucked-up history had damned him to the same cursed eternity?

  Dorian caught his friend’s gaze across the study, and the last of the breath rushed from his lungs.

  In that moment, he wished his father were still alive, if only so he could tear the heart from his chest and watch the life drain from his eyes one last time.

  “Oh, fuck,” Charlotte said suddenly, dragging Dorian back from the precipice of his own darkness. She’d picked up the discarded newspaper, and now she stared at the sketches with a look of sheer horror. “I know this other guy.”

  “Are you certain?” Dorian asked.

  “Couldn’t forget the motherfucker if I tried.” She dropped the newspaper and glanced up at Dorian, new anger rising in her eyes. “Your brother’s new bloodsucking BFF is Silas.”

  “The vampire who assaulted you the other night?” Gabriel asked.

  “Yep. And he’s probably—”

  Charlotte’s phone buzzed in her pocket, cutting her off.

  In an instant, all the color drained from her face.

  She hadn’t even looked at the screen yet, but everyone in that room knew at once who she’d find on the other end.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Good morning, Charlotte.” Rudy’s face filled the screen, his fake smile making Charley’s stomach lurch. “I was hoping we could chat about a few… family matters. Is now a good time?”

  A good time?

  What he really wanted to know was whether she was alone. Whether he could threaten her without witnesses.

  She’d anticipated the question, though, and had scooted into the kitchen before hitting the answer button. No matter how she felt about him, Charley knew she needed to keep playing the game. Just long enough to get Sasha back, then all bets were off.

  Along with your dick, you fucking coward.

  He’d sold her out to a demon lord. He’d killed her father. Maybe he hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he’d orchestrated the murder. He’d siphoned her inheritance into his own pockets, forcing her to become completely dependent on him. He’d had a lifelong affair with her mother. He’d threatened and abused her.

  And he’d kidnapped her fucking sister—a beautiful, fiery young woman with a heart of gold and a contagious laugh Charley would give anything to hear again.

  For that, more than anything else, Rudy was going to die.

  As painfully as possible.

  “It’s a great time,” Charley said now, forcing the words through the twin knots of rage and fear in her throat. “Dorian and Aiden are sequestered in the study dealing with FierceConnect business. I haven’t seen the other three. I was just about to make some coffee.”

  Right. She was currently looking at Dorian, Gabriel, Aiden, and Cole, who were looming just out of sight of the phone camera, but Rudy didn’t need to know that.

  “How are things going at Ravenswood?” he asked casually.

  “Everything’s on schedule. Just trying to get things ready before the Hawaii trip.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Rudy…” Charley closed her eyes and blew out a breath, her patience cracking beneath the weight of her worry. Gabriel had said there was no trace of Sasha at Rudy’s penthouse. So where the fuck had he stashed her? Why was he still acting so nonchalant about all this?

  “Something on your mind, kiddo?”

  “Where is my sister?” she finally asked—partly because s
he knew Rudy was expecting it—hoping for it, even—but mostly because she really needed to know. “Sasha has nothing to do with this. You know I’m not going to fuck up my end of the deal.”

  “I certainly hope not,” Rudy said, “but as I told you before, I didn’t get where I am in this world by skipping the necessary precautions.”

  No, you did it by kissing a bunch of demon ass and making deals with other people’s souls.

  “Is she okay?” Charley asked, fighting to keep the desperation from her voice. “Can I at least talk to her?”

  “I’m so glad you asked.” Rudy flashed a cruel smirk, his eyes lighting up like he was the damn fairy godfather about to grant her every wish. “I thought you might appreciate a reminder about why you’re doing this. An important reminder, just in case you get any ideas about alerting Redthorne or the authorities.”

  Before Charley could utter a single reassurance, Rudy conferenced in a video call from an unknown number, and the screen switched to an image of a blank white wall without a single identifying mark or shadow to be found.

  There was a muffled sound from the new caller, and suddenly the screen filled with a sight that made Charley go boneless.

  She collapsed onto her knees on the kitchen floor, tears welling in her eyes. “Sasha! Baby, are you all right?”

  “Chuck?” Sasha yawned and blinked the sleep from her eyes. Her face was lined with sheet marks, but she seemed unharmed. “Oh, crap! I didn’t miss a shift, did I? Hey, you okay? Why are you crying?”

  Miss a shift?

  Why are you crying?

  Charley glanced quickly at Dorian, then back to the screen, her heart thudding against her ribcage. “Sasha, do you know what day it is?”

  “Um… Sunday? Friday?” Sasha shrugged, then let out a cute giggle. “Who even knows anymore.”

  God, how Charley had longed to hear that laugh. To see that sparkle in her sister’s big blue eyes. Her color looked good, her eyes bright, her skin unmarred.

  It was enough to make Charley weep with joy.

  But she couldn’t, because for all the outward signs of health and vitality, something was very wrong.

  Sasha wasn’t just disoriented from sleep. She was on another fucking planet.

  “Did they hurt you?” Charley asked, wondering how long she had before Rudy cut her off.

  Fuck, what else should she say? What intel could she ferret out before Rudy figured out her game?

  She took a quick screenshot, just in case there was a clue to be found later.

  “Are you okay?” she tried again, attempting a more casual tone. “Where… What are you up to?”

  “Hmm?” Sasha yawned again, but it quickly trailed into another laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I’ve got Netflix and a fully stocked fridge. Are you okay? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

  Charley forced a smile. “I’m good. I’m really good, Sash. So, um, who’s there with you?”

  “Just some guys I met at Perk. No, wait…” She wrinkled her nose, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Actually, I think I met them in class? Yeah, it was probably in class. Everyone is super nice. Hey, you should totally come over later!” Sasha beamed, then glanced at something across the room and nodded. “But listen, Chuck. I need to get going. We’re just about to start an Originals rewatch, and Klaus Mikaelson waits for no woman. Call you later?”

  “Sasha, wait! I—”

  The call disconnected, and Rudy’s evil face filled her screen once again.

  “See?” he said. “The little bitch is just fine. No harm, no foul.”

  “Fine? She doesn’t even realize what’s going on!” Charley closed her eyes, willing herself not to freak out.

  There was only one explanation why Sasha would be acting so bizarre.

  They’d compelled her. They’d fucking compelled her to think being kidnapped and kept prisoner was totally normal. Fun, even.

  Charley couldn’t let on that she knew about vampire compulsion, but she had to say something. Rudy would get suspicious otherwise.

  “Did you drug my sister?” she asked.

  Rudy laughed that machine-gun cackle of his. “Why would you think that?”

  “She seems to be taking this whole kidnapping thing pretty well.”

  Rudy let out an irritated sigh. “Has it occurred to you, Charlotte, that Sasha is simply content? That she’s grateful to me for giving her all the things you couldn’t?”

  “Rudy, please let her go. You and I can work something else out.”

  “Big day’s coming up, Charlotte. Keep up the good work, and you’ll be reunited with your sister soon enough.”

  Charley did her best to keep her face neutral, knowing damn well Rudy had no intentions of returning her sister. He was planning to leave the fucking country right after the heist.

  But if he wasn’t going to return her, what the hell was his end game?

  She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. For now, compulsion aside, it looked like he was keeping Sasha relatively safe.

  Charley had no idea how much longer that would last, but it was a start.

  “Everything’s on schedule,” she said. “We leave out of JFK next Friday.”

  “Excellent. Hey, send me some pineapples.”

  Don’t they have any in Brazil? she wanted to ask, but instead she could only nod. “Count on it.”

  “I am counting on it, Charlotte. Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll be in touch again soon.”

  Before she could utter another word, the screen went blank.

  The phone slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a soft thunk.

  Dorian was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms and pulling her to her feet. “You did great, Charlotte. Rudy didn’t suspect a thing.”

  “They compelled her. They messed with my baby sister’s mind.”

  “I know, love.”

  “I just want her back. Why the fuck can’t we get her back?”

  “Gabriel’s going to try to trace the location of the other caller. In the meantime, we’ll keep looking through the Estas files until we figure this out.” He slid a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “My brother was right to tell you not to lose hope. Your sister may be under compulsion, but she can sense your love for her. She knows you’re with her, Charlotte. She knows you won’t stop fighting for her.”

  Charley nodded, comforted by his presence as much as his faith in her.

  Seeing her sister again—alive and apparently safe—had bolstered her.

  But more than that, it filled her with a cold and deadly determination.

  Not just to find Sasha and bring her home safely.

  But to end her uncle for good.

  I can’t wait to see you burn, Rudy D’Amico…

  “Dorian,” Aiden said suddenly, “do you mind if I borrow Charlotte for a moment? There’s something I’d like to show her.”

  “By all means.” Dorian pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “But don’t be too long. I start to miss her when she’s—”

  “Oh, for the love of…” Aiden rolled his eyes. “You two are bloody disgusting. Please, Charlotte, allow me to save you from this Hallmark movie moment before your teeth rot from the nauseating sweetness.”

  Grateful for Aiden’s particular brand of humor, Charley laughed and took his offered arm, allowing him to escort her into the small sunroom at the back of the manor.

  It was warm and bright, with curved, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the infinity pool and the rolling hills beyond. Fallen leaves in reds, yellows, and browns carpeted the landscape, reminding Charley of some of her favorite things about this time of year.

  Soft flannel shirts.

  Fuzzy socks.

  Hot caramel apple cider.

  Sasha’s endless quest for the perfect Halloween costume.

  For a brief moment, her heart seized up again, but then she relaxed, deciding right then and there that she
had nothing to worry about. Of course Sasha would be home for Halloween. In fact, maybe they could even talk Dorian into throwing a costume party at Ravenswood. Sasha would go nuts for it.

  “Sasha adores this room,” Charley said now, remembering how much her sister had gushed about it when she’d visited. “It’s easy to see why.”

  Aiden smiled. “We spent quite a bit of time chatting in here between dips in the pool. She said it reminded her of floating in a big bubble.”

  “Sounds exactly like something Sasha would say.”

  “Here—this is what I wanted you to see.” Aiden guided her over to the far corner of the room, where a small café table and two chairs were set up near the window. On the table, an antique chess set gleamed in the sunlight.

  “Is this yours?” Charley asked, crouching down to admire the craftsmanship. The board was made of polished wood, but the pieces were antique ivory, each one painstakingly carved and painted with so much detail, they almost looked alive. “It’s beautiful, Aiden. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It was crafted in France in the Renaissance period, passed down to Dorian’s mother through her family. She was a kind woman with the patience of a saint—as you’d expect from the woman tasked with raising those little hellions.” Aiden laughed softly, his eyes glazing with memories. “Sometimes, when the boys were out with their father and I’d gotten lost in the shuffle, she’d take me into the sitting room, order tea service from the kitchen staff, and chat with me for hours, teaching me how to play. Years later, she gifted this set to me. It was one of the few possessions I cared enough about to bring with me to America.”

  “I wish I could have known her,” Charley said, trying to imagine what she looked like, what she sounded like, how she called Dorian’s name when he was late for a meal.

  “She would’ve loved you, as her son does.” Aiden held her gaze for a beat before turning his attention back to the chess set. “Anyway, I haven’t played in an age—Dorian doesn’t play, and it’s not easy to find a partner. But when Sasha expressed an interest, I thought… I mean, I wanted… I…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clearly flustered.