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

by Sarah Piper

  Aiden rolled his eyes. “I bet he’s fun at parties.”

  “By Azerius’ own accounting,” she continued, “his father was a disgraced god who devoted his life to starting human wars. He fathered seventeen sons, including Azerius, but lived only in service to his own bloodlust. Eventually, Azerius got fed up with the neglect. To secure his father’s elusive attention, he slaughtered all sixteen of his brothers and their families, ensuring he was the very last of his father’s bloodline, but his father didn’t notice. So Azerius called upon the old gods of his father’s time, and made some sort of dark bargain—he sacrificed himself, only to rise to power in death with a bloodlust that rivaled his father’s. He then declared war on all warriors, making it his life’s mission to sow chaos on human battlefields and imbue soldiers with a limitless potential for brutality. In some cultures today, it’s still believed that if a white raven appears in the encampment on the eve of battle, Azerius is present, and a prolonged, bloody battle will follow, with mass casualties.”

  “So you’re saying he’s got some anger management issues,” Aiden said.

  “That is an understatement.” Isabelle closed the book, gently placing her hand on the cover. “People still call upon him for deals—deals so dark not even regular demons will touch them.”

  “Like Father,” Colin said, “slaughtering the vampire royals in England.”

  “I still can’t believe this is real.” Charlotte reached for the blade. “This thing was literally forged in hell. It’s—” The moment her fingers touched the bone handle, she swayed.

  Dorian blurred behind her, catching her just before she collapsed.

  “Damn it,” she whispered, closing her eyes as he steadied her.

  “Vertigo again?” he asked, and she nodded. “Colin, are you certain she hasn’t suffered more serious injuries?”

  “I haven’t ruled it out.” Colin came to stand beside them, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. “Have you eaten enough today?”

  “Yes.” Charlotte opened her eyes. “Everything else feels totally fine. But it’s exactly like before—the déjà vu too. I swear that blade has it out for me.”

  “What do you mean?” Isabelle asked, concern tightening her brow. “This happened before?”

  “When we first discovered it,” Charlotte said, “I got the same feeling as soon as I touched it, only it wasn’t as bad. This time felt much more intense.”

  Isabelle exchanged a worried glance with Dorian, then asked Charlotte to join her at the table.

  Dorian stayed by her side, afraid she’d faint again.

  “Did you touch the book before?” Isabelle asked.

  “No, just the blade.”

  “Place your hand on the book for me.”

  Charlotte did as she asked, but drew back at once, stumbling backward into Dorian’s arms.

  “Worse,” she said. “Way worse.”

  Isabelle held her hand over Charlotte’s heart. “May I?”

  She nodded, and Isabelle pressed her hand to Charlotte’s chest and closed her eyes.

  After an agonizing moment, she lowered her hand and shook her head, whispering a single word that kicked Dorian’s worry into overdrive:

  “Fuck.”

  “Isabelle?” he pressed, but she held her tongue. Dorian glared at her. “No shit-covered cupcakes, remember? Speak your mind.”

  She let out a deep sigh, then reached for Charlotte’s hands, squeezing tight. “Charlotte, your demon mark… It’s the mark of Azerius. I’m certain of it now—the energy signatures are the same. You’re feeling the reaction of his mark—his power calls to it through the book and the blade. Your soul recognizes him as its master.”

  Dorian’s entire body trembled as he fought to hold back his rage. He swiped the Book of Lost Souls from the table, his fingers turning white as he crushed it in his grip. “You’re telling me the demon known as the King of Blood and Ravens, He Who Slaughters the Blood of his Blood, He Who Drinks the Blood of the Fallen, He Whom Before All Mortals Weep, He Whom Can Choke On My Bloody Fist… The demon who murdered his own kin… The demon who killed himself just so he could spend eternity tormenting human soldiers… This is the demon who’s claimed the woman I love?”

  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of more bad news,” Isabelle said evenly, “but yes.”

  “If Azerius is the one who marked Charlotte, there’s only one thing I need to know from this book.” Dorian slammed it back onto the table, rattling Colin’s test tubes. “How the fuck do I kill him?”

  “I don’t know, Dorian,” she said. “He’s a lord of hell, and that’s his domain. He doesn’t exist on the earthy plane.”

  “Then how do we make him exist here?”

  “I suppose he’d have to be summoned, but I have no idea how to even attempt—”

  “Read the bloody book!” he roared, but his anger wasn’t for Isabelle.

  He muttered an apology and turned away, shame heating his face, rage still swirling inside him like a tempest.

  A soft touch graced his shoulder, and Dorian turned to find Charlotte smiling at him, her copper eyes full of love and kindness.

  It disarmed him immediately.

  He slid his fingers into her hair and brushed a kiss to her forehead, calming himself by the feel of her soft skin. “How is it you’re smiling after what Isabelle revealed?”

  “Because I’m channeling my sister, and she would definitely see the positives here.”

  “What positives? We’ve just discovered you’ve been claimed by one of the original demons of hell.”

  “Exactly.” Charlotte curled her fingers around his wrists and gazed up into his eyes. “Last night—before we knew anything about this Azerius asshole—you promised me you’d find a way to break the demon bind. And after less than twenty-four hours, we already know who he is. We know about all his stupid names, his daddy issues, his bloodlust. We’ve got his toys. We know who worships him.”

  “And,” Isabelle added, offering Dorian a warm, understanding smile despite his earlier outburst, “as a human promised to Lord Azerius, Charlotte will be safe from any demons who swear fealty to him. In their eyes, a soul bound to Azerius is untouchable—harming her would be like harming the demon lord himself.”

  Dorian blew out a breath, wishing the information brought him some measure of comfort. But what did it matter if she was safe from harm tonight, only to be dragged to hell tomorrow?

  “We still don’t know how to summon him,” he said.

  “Yet.” Charlotte turned and kissed his wrist, the touch of her warm lips further relaxing him. “Now, let’s go back upstairs and get you another drink before you Hulk out on Colin’s creepy collection of blood and bones and he has to recreate his research from scratch.”

  “Excellent point, Charlotte,” Colin said. “And now that you mention it, I could use a drink too.”

  Finally granting his woman a smile in return, Dorian leaned in and whispered, “You’ve convinced him to take a break, love. You really are a miracle worker.”

  As they made their way to the elevator, Dorian was overcome with the same feeling he’d experienced earlier—like someone had been watching them.

  But just as before, the chamber was empty, save for the echoes of his dead father and the brutal lord of hell who would soon—one way or another—meet the same fate.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  By the time they settled into the study and Dorian poured everyone another round, Gabriel had returned, the frustrated look in his eyes confirming what Dorian had already suspected—he wasn’t able to trace the source of Sasha’s call.

  “It looks like whoever’s holding her covered their tracks well.” Gabriel returned Charlotte’s phone and dropped into the chair closest to the fireplace, stretching out his legs before the flames. “The call bounced through several different cities, none of them in New York State. But,” he added, “my source isn’t giving up. I sent him the screenshot you took—he’s analyzing it now.”


  “Thank you.” Charlotte smiled—still channeling a bit of her sister, Dorian suspected.

  “So what have you lot been up to, then?” Gabriel leaned back in his chair and glanced around as Dorian distributed the drinks. “No offense, but you look as if you’ve just emerged from the very dungeons of hell.”

  “You have no idea how right you are.” Aiden lifted his glass. “Cheers.”

  There hadn’t been time to get into the details of the blade and the book with Gabriel earlier, and now it spilled out in a mad rush, all of them trying to fill in the gaps with whatever information and hypotheses they had about Chernikov’s dastardly plans and the demon Azerius.

  They were all in agreement on one thing—Chernikov had to be dealt with, and quickly. They had no idea how much work had already been completed on his project, and no guarantees the other nefarious employees at Armitage Holdings would back off, even with their operation exposed.

  “We need to take them out completely,” Gabriel said.

  “We can’t take out Chernikov’s entire organization alone,” Aiden said. “We haven’t the numbers.”

  “So we’ll start with Chernikov himself,” Gabriel said. “Cut off the head of the snake, then work our way down.”

  “And then we’ve got hundreds of pissed-off demon sycophants on the loose, with no obligation to honor the Accords,” Isabelle said. “They’ll be looking for blood and vengeance, and where do you think they’ll start?”

  No one said a word to that—no one needed to. In the wake of a Chernikov assassination, all those rudderless demons would be torching Ravenswood by dawn. And without an army of his own, Dorian had no way to defend it, especially when he considered Chernikov had the backing of House Duchanes, a coven of dark witches, and untold other defectors on his side.

  At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if Malcolm was among them.

  “I don’t suppose you’re any good with biological weaponry?” Aiden asked Colin. “Serious question, mate.”

  “If only I’d chosen my post-doctorate studies more strategically.” Colin flashed a dimpled grin, then sipped his bourbon. “To be fair, I thought I’d be delivering babies and setting broken arms at this point, not trying to recreate a cure for vampirism, summoning a lord of hell, and plotting against an army of demons.”

  “You make it sound like drudgery when you say it like that,” Aiden teased, then settled back into his chair, his eyes darkening with the same worries the rest of the group obviously shared.

  For a while no one spoke, and Dorian allowed himself to be lulled by the comforts of a crackling fire, a fine scotch, and the company of friends and family. It’d been a long time since he’d felt anything close to it, and though Malcolm’s absence left a particularly sharp ache in his heart, Dorian couldn’t help but be glad for the moment.

  Still, thoughts of Malcolm were never far, and now they clawed at his insides anew, filling him with a mixture of sadness, betrayal, and guilt—a cocktail of pain he’d associated with his family for far too long.

  Bloody hell, he still wanted so badly for things to be different.

  If only, if only, if only… A refrain as closely connected to thoughts of his family as the disconcerting feeling churning through his chest.

  “I have a crazy idea,” Charlotte finally said, bringing him back from his dark thoughts. He looked at her and smiled, warmed by the firelight dancing in her eyes. With a mischievous smirk, she said, “What if we got Rogozin to do it?”

  “Rogozin?” Gabriel scoffed. “Yes, let’s hop into bed with more demons, since my brother had so much luck bedding Chernikov. And wasn’t it Rogozin’s demons who attacked at the Tribeca penthouse?”

  “Indeed it was,” Dorian said, recalling the taste of Rogozin hellfire in his lungs as Duchanes had poisoned him and tormented Charlotte before his eyes.

  “And Chernikov’s who attacked us in Central Park,” she countered.

  “Your point?” Gabriel asked.

  “Demons and vampires are mortal enemies, and right now, in the wake of your father’s death, all of the demon factions are testing the boundaries. I’m not saying Rogozin is the perfect ally by any stretch, but there are no perfect options here.”

  “We can’t trust him, Charlotte,” Gabriel said.

  “With this? I think we can,” she said. “You guys said it yourselves—Rogozin is after territory, not human vessels. There’s no way he’d want Chernikov’s plan to succeed. If it did, Rogozin would be forced to give up all his territory and fall in line, just like everyone else. With his organization backing us, we’ve definitely got the numbers, right?”

  “It certainly gives us better odds,” Colin said.

  “My enemy’s enemy is my friend,” Aiden said. “A classic strategy, to be sure. But I’m not sure that’s enough to win him over. What’s in it for Alexei himself? Why would he risk his own organization, his reputation, and his life to align with the royal vampires?”

  “Because if he doesn’t,” she said, “the moles in his organization will sell the precious Blade of Azerius to his enemy, basically ensuring Chernikov’s victory and sole dominion over all life on earth, human and supernatural alike.”

  Dorian sighed. As much as he loathed the idea of working with Rogozin—with any demon, for that matter, especially after Chernikov’s treachery—Charlotte had a point.

  “How are you seeing this play out, love?” he asked.

  Through another cheeky grin, she said, “We offer him something no demon can resist: A deal.”

  “You’re out of your bloody head,” Gabriel said. “Demon deals are a one-way ticket to hell.”

  “Not if we read the fine print,” she said, “and not if we’re the ones making the deal.”

  “What is it you think we have to offer?” Dorian asked.

  At this, the sparkle in her eyes dimmed, and she let out a long, slow breath. “Two things, actually, and you’re going to hate them both.”

  Dorian took a long pull on his scotch, steadying himself.

  “One—sell him the Blade of Azerius,” she said. “Direct buy, half of what he’s supposedly paying Estas, none of the hassle.”

  “Why would I give up the one weapon we’ve got that can eradicate demons?” Dorian asked.

  “Because it’s not actually all that useful to you. Think about it—you can only use it on one demon at a time. If that’s your grand plan against Chernikov, it’s going to take a while.”

  “I agree,” Isabelle said. “In the hands of a vampire—even the king himself—the weapon is more symbolic than anything else.”

  “A symbol of our power over the lesser supernatural beings,” Gabriel said. “Turn that over to Rogozin—to any demon—and you may as well drop to your knees and offer to suck his cock.”

  “Even if we defeat Rudy and Estas and avoid the robbery,” Charlotte said, “if you keep that blade, you’re going to be hunted. The demons will never stop trying to take it from you, and eventually, they’ll succeed. I’d bet my left tit they’ll come after it the minute they figure out Rudy can’t deliver it.”

  “I’d really prefer you not bet your body parts, love,” Dorian said. “I’ve gotten rather attached to all of them. Furthermore…” He closed his eyes and rubbed them, wishing like hell he wasn’t about to say this next bit, but seeing no way around it. “I actually agree with you.”

  “Fuck,” Gabriel said. “So do I—about the blade being a danger to us, not about aligning with Rogozin. There has to be a better way.”

  “I’m all ears,” Dorian said, but Gabriel had nothing more to add.

  “Charlotte,” Isabelle said, “what was the second thing?”

  Charlotte sipped her gin and tonic, then turned to Dorian. “After Malcolm convened his council, you told me you weren’t opposed on principal—only that you wanted to see other supernaturals represented.”

  “If and when I decide to form an advisory committee, then yes, I would want everyone represented. But… Wait. Surely you’re not sugge
sting…?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

  “You want me to extend an olive branch to the Rogozin demons? To invite them to the literal table?”

  “I’m asking you to objectively look at the situation we’re in. Even if we defeat Chernikov, you’re still going to need more allies going forward. Your father has only recently died, and look at the chaos that’s already come to your door. If we can secure an alliance with one of the most powerful demonic factions in the city—one poised to become the most powerful, if we can take out Chernikov—that can only help keep the peace.”

  “Are you serious?” Gabriel rose from his chair, glaring at Charlotte as if she were mad. “Rogozin is not our friend, Charlotte. He’s a demon. You of all people should know that.”

  “Gabriel,” Dorian warned. “Do not speak to—”

  “No, he’s right,” Charlotte said. “I should know that—and I fucking do, Gabriel. Believe me. Rogozin’s guys did unspeakable things to me as a kid. But I need to set my personal feelings about them aside, because what’s happening now is so much bigger than me. War is coming, guys. Chernikov is the bigger threat right now—to House Redthorne and to Rogozin. But if your house and Rogozin’s organization are united against that threat, Chernikov doesn’t stand a chance. It’s time to make a deal.”

  “Are you hearing yourself?” Gabriel shoved a hand through his hair, the air around him crackling with his anger. “Fucking hell, Charlotte. You find out your uncle’s a demon, and suddenly you’re an expert in navigating supernatural politics.”

  Dorian was out of his chair in a flash, but he stopped just short of putting his little brother through the wall. As much as he wanted to defend her from his brother’s utter dickishness, Charlotte was doing a fine job on her own.

  “Watch your tone, brother,” he said instead, letting him off with a warning—the last he’d offer before mounting Gabriel above the mantle like a piece of art.

  “Look, Gabriel,” Charlotte said. “I don’t pretend to know anything about supernatural politics. I’m just speaking as someone who’s spent her entire life watching men swing their dicks around and play bullshit power games just to get one more slice of the proverbial pie. Vampires, demons, mortals… Corruption and greed rots everyone the same—from the inside out. So if you don’t mind, kindly put your dick away before you break something, and give me a fair shot for once.”