by Sarah Piper
No end in sight for grisly crime spree…
“Charlotte…” he whispered, instinctively reaching for her, damn well knowing he shouldn’t.
And she came to him. She knelt before him on the floor and took his hands, bringing them to her lips. With a soft, gentle touch, she kissed him—kissed the hands that had slaughtered innocents, that had made the city streets run red with blood. The hands that had nearly killed his own brother tonight.
Deep in Dorian’s chest, an ancient pit bubbled and roiled, full of hatred and self-loathing as black and viscous as boiling tar.
“You were right to call me a monster, love,” he whispered. “I am a monster. More terrible than the vilest beasts that haunt your nightmares.” Tears of shame slipped down his cheeks, and he jerked his head toward the door, no longer caring if she saw him at his weakest. “So leave me, Charlotte D’Amico. Please. Get to your feet, put one foot in front of the other, and walk out of this manor before you live to regret the day the devil crossed your path.”
Still, she didn’t leave.
She climbed into his lap and took his face between her hands, her thumbs catching his tears, her mouth so close he felt the hot sweetness of her breath on his lips.
Dorian closed his eyes and shook his head, unable to bear the weight of her last goodbye.
All he wanted to do was kiss her.
It was more than he deserved, yet the thought of losing her nearly swallowed him, like some great hole opening up beneath him, plummeting him straight to hell.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
Demanded.
Begged.
When he finally opened his eyes again, Charlotte smiled, her eyes filling at once with sadness and longing and hope, and there, beneath all the pain, burning hottest and brightest of all…
Love.
She brushed a soft kiss to his forehead, then whispered the words that finally shattered the chains inside, cracking Dorian’s heart wide open, setting the broken pieces aflame.
“I love you, Dorian Redthorne. I love you. And if you think for one minute I’m walking out that door just because you told me to, you can fuck right off.” She pressed a hot kiss to his lips, then smiled again, achingly beautiful, achingly real. “I choose option two.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Words.
Right ones, wrong ones, broken ones, it didn’t matter.
Words had always been the hard part. But now, for Dorian and Charlotte, what came next was easy.
Here before the roaring fire in his favorite room in the manor, there were no words. Only Charlotte, the feel of her perfect mouth on Dorian’s throat, her lips and tongue sending ripples of pleasure throughout his body.
He sat in his chair, relishing in her sweet explorations until the fire burned down to embers and a chill finally crept into the room.
Silently, he carried her to his bedroom, and after a blissful shower to wash away the last of the evening’s brutalities, they slipped between the satin sheets of Dorian’s bed, naked and vulnerable, stripped bare of everything but flesh and bone.
And still, neither of them spoke. It was as if they both understood they’d crossed into new territory, vast and unexplored. Neither wanted to shatter its pristine beauty with something as basic and limiting as human language.
Here, in this new world, they relied on pure instinct. Touch. Heat.
Charlotte spent a long, sinfully delicious hour exploring the newly visible network of his daylight tattoos with her mouth, kissing and licking, nipping and teasing, sending spasms of pleasure across nerves Dorian didn’t even realize he possessed.
When it was his turn, he skimmed his mouth along her curves, drinking in every inch, unleashing soft moans that made him melt as surely as they made him hard. It was slow and sweet and perfect, a rare evening between them with no commands, no sexy games, no race to the finish line.
All of those things had their place, and Dorian had loved every red-hot experience they’d previously shared. And tomorrow, he was certain, they’d be right back to their old mind-blowing tricks.
But tonight was different.
Everything was different.
I love you, Dorian Redthorne. I love you…
Her voice echoed through his memory as he kissed his way down her throat, savoring the taste, sweeter in the wake of such confessions.
Charlotte slid her fingers into his hair, slowly urging him toward her breasts. He grazed her nipple with his teeth, and she gasped, arching closer, her hips undulating beneath him.
Heeding her body’s seductive call, Dorian shifted between her thighs, teasing her with the tip of his cock. More than anything, he wanted to be inside her again, to fill her, to feel her shatter around him. But first, he needed to taste her.
He pulled away, and she cried out in desperate agony, but he knew how much she enjoyed his relentless teasing. From their first moments at the Salvatore, he’d learned to decipher her body’s signals—to know when she needed it hot and hard and fast, or when she wanted to be teased.
Right now, she wanted option two.
Blazing a trail of hot, wet kisses down her stomach, Dorian worked his way lower, his head dipping between her thighs, hands sliding up to spread her wide. He ran his tongue over every delectable curve, slowly taking his fill, inhaling her scent.
Bloody hell, he loved eating that pussy.
He craved it like a drug—one in which she was more than willing to indulge him.
He licked her again, and Charlotte sighed, fisting his hair and pulling him closer as he kissed her hot flesh. Beneath the demanding pressure of his hands, she spread herself even wider, and Dorian blew a soft breath over her clit, stroking her with the tip of his tongue, tracing every inch with slow, delicious precision.
Her muscles began to tremble, and he knew she was getting close—his favorite fucking part. Without warning, he gripped her thighs and crushed his lips against her clit, kissing and sucking, swirling his tongue as she writhed beneath him.
But no matter how badly he wanted to grant her this exquisite release, he couldn’t let her come alone. Not tonight. He wanted to see it in her eyes, wanted them to collapse into that wonderful oblivion together.
And he was already so fucking hard, so fucking close.
At the last possible moment, he pulled back, dragging his mouth along her thigh, her belly, kissing his way up toward her lush mouth.
Silently, she reached for him, welcoming him back with a dazzling smile and a deep kiss, filling his mouth with a delicate moan.
She parted her thighs and arched her hips, and he slid inside her with a long, slow thrust, her body clenching around him, drawing him deeper until he filled her completely.
With every thrust, they found their perfect rhythm, Charlotte’s gaze fierce and unwavering as their bodies drew together and apart, again and again and again, their skin slick with sweat, mouths hot and eager as they tasted and touched, pushed and pulled.
She ran her hands along his back, down to his ass, and clutched him hard, his fevered thrusts intensifying, everything inside her slippery and hot, driving him wild.
The trembling started in her thighs again, and Dorian knew she was right there—right fucking there.
“Dorian,” she breathed, finally breaking their intense silence, her eyelids fluttering closed as the orgasm began to pull her under.
He wanted to let her go, to watch her drift off to that perfect place where nothing could hurt her, nothing could break her heart, even just for a moment. But before she let go completely, he cupped her face and whispered against her lips, bringing her back.
“Open your eyes, Charlotte.” He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand finding hers beneath the sheets and holding it tight. “Stay with me, love.”
She nodded, her heart thudding wildly beneath the press of his muscled chest.
“Stay with me,” he whispered again, squeezing her hand like he never wanted to let her go.
Eyes wide open, loc
ked in his intense gaze, Charlotte gasped, her body clenching around him, the wave cresting and breaking over them both as Dorian plunged inside her with a growl that rumbled from his chest, their mouths seeking a last, desperate kiss as they tumbled headlong into that final, bruising moment of pure ecstasy.
Minutes passed. Hours. Lifetimes. And when he finally pulled back and looked into her eyes once more, he knew.
She was his eternity. She was his forever.
Dorian’s forever would almost certainly outlast hers, and perhaps that was his true curse—an immortal monster roaming the halls of Ravenswood, endlessly chasing her ghost long after she’d passed on.
Centuries. Eons. Millennia.
And still, in that moment, Dorian knew.
He would never love another.
“My heart is yours, Charlotte D’Amico,” he whispered. “Tonight, and always.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Charley had no idea how they’d managed to stop time, but somehow, they had.
And for an entire Saturday, she floated on the clouds, suspended in a bubble of happiness that not even Rudy’s irritating texts could pop.
Dorian spoiled her with breakfast in bed, followed by a long, languid hike through the woods. The day was bright and beautiful, no grays afoot in the sunshine, no traitor vampires lurking behind the trees.
They talked about the things they’d temporarily set aside last night—things they’d been setting aside for weeks. Dorian’s brother’s betrayal, the council meeting, the witch who’d come to Dorian’s aid. Charley told him more about her father and uncle, the jobs she’d worked, her unconventional childhood. She hadn’t yet told him about Rudy cutting her off, or her fears about losing her penthouse, but that was only because she knew he’d try to fix it for her, and she wasn’t quite ready for that conversation.
There was still so much she didn’t know about her vampire either—about his family, about old rifts, about why Colin was spending all his time in the crypts, about the darkest days of his life he’d only just begun to tell her about in the study last night.
But all of that would come, she trusted, in time—all part of the slow, delicious dive of falling in love, getting to know each other bit by bit, story by story, dream by dream.
Confession by confession.
In every way, it’d been a perfect day. A perfect evening.
But at some point in the middle of the night, the warm, solid weight of Dorian’s body vanished from the bed and didn’t return.
In his place, she found only a note.
Gone for a midnight snack. Sleep tight—be back soon.
Charley paced the circular drive, waiting for the infuriating vampire to return. She didn’t want to text him—didn’t want to be that girl, but really? A midnight snack? With a full pantry and fridge, Dorian decided to just pop on over to the convenience store for some chips and salsa? No way. He was definitely up to something, and she wouldn’t rest until she figured out what.
After nearly an hour of incessant pacing, two sets of tell-tale headlights finally appeared in the drive.
Charley’s breath left her in a hot rush—relief, mostly, followed by supreme irritation.
You are so busted, Redthorne.
She recognized Dorian’s BMW at once. Aiden’s Lexus SUV pulled in behind him, carrying an additional conspirator—a man she’d never seen before. When he exited the SUV, she got a better look—big and muscular, handsome in a rugged, outdoorsy sort of way. Despite the rough-around-the-edges exterior, he was dressed in a bespoke three-piece suit and carried some kind of gilded statue under his arm.
What the fuck?
“Charlotte? What are you doing awake?” Dorian stepped out of the BMW, forcing an innocent smile Charley could see right through. She knew that look. She invented that look.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” she said.
“You should wait inside, love.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his mouth warm and soft in the chilly night. “It’s not safe out here at night.”
“Good evening, Ms. D'Amico,” Aiden said, approaching with his mysterious friend. “How is Sasha?”
“She’s good—she’s in Vermont for the weekend. But she wanted me to tell you she’s still holding you to your promise. She really wants to learn how to play chess.”
Aiden grinned. “Next time you bring her round, it’s a date.”
“And who’s your guest?” Charley asked, smiling at the newcomer.
“You must be Charlotte.” The man returned her smile with a warm, genuine grin that immediately put her at ease. “Feel like I already know you, considering Red here can’t shut the fuck up about you for more than five seconds, pardon my French.” He reached out to shake her hand. “Cole Diamante. Charmed. That’s what you’re supposed to say when you’re wearing a monkey suit like this, right Red? Charmed?”
Dorian grumbled something indecipherable, but Charley was too captivated to ask him to repeat it.
“Cole Diamante,” she breathed, her smile stretching so wide it hurt her cheeks. “Oh my God. I’m a huge fan of your work. Not just your landscapes, but your portraits and still life—all of it. I’m… Wow. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’m… I don’t even know what to say.”
Cole laughed. “Oh, I like her already, Red.”
“Yes, and apparently she likes you too.” Dorian wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulder. “Perhaps you can ask for his autograph, love. Better yet, a studio tour.”
“I’d rather see his lioness, Red,” she said, finally realizing what Cole had been cradling in his arm.
Why the hell is he carrying around an ancient Egyptian artifact as if it were a case of beer?
Fangirl moment aside, the whole night had taken a very strange turn, and despite all the friendly banter, Charley couldn’t shake the feeling these three co-conspirators were up to something big.
“All right boys.” She popped her hands on her hips. “Spill it.”
The three of them looked at her with sheepish, guilt-ridden faces.
Charley held out her arms for the statue, and Cole handed it over without protest.
She inspected it carefully—the head of a lioness, the body of a woman. The base was carved with hieroglyphs—spells to aid the royal deceased through his underworld journey.
Charley was shocked. Even in the darkness, she could tell it was the real deal.
“Where did you get this?” she demanded. But then, before any of them could respond, the pieces clicked into place. “Shit. You made contact with Vincent Estas.”
Wisely, Dorian didn’t deny it.
“How much?” she asked.
“Five hundred thousand,” Dorian said. “Cash.”
Charley let out a low whistle. “Personally, I wouldn’t have paid a quarter of that, but to each his own.”
“Do you recognize it?” he asked.
“Sure. It’s Sekhmet.” Despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but be awed by the beautiful carving, the gold overlay shimmering in the darkness as if it had its own life force. “Part of the vast Egyptian pantheon—a powerful goddess whose breath was said to cause the desert winds. I don’t know much about the cult, but her bloodlust was legendary.”
“I told you,” Aiden said to Dorian. “She was practically the first vampire.”
“Authentic?” Dorian asked.
“One hundred percent,” Charley said. “This piece was discovered in the tomb of King Tut and was reported missing from the museum at Cairo in the seventies. Authorities believed one of the workers stole it, but they could never prove it.”
“Cairo?” Dorian’s brow furrowed. “I was hoping it was from the One Night Stand cache.”
“Sorry to rain on your secret-mission parade, boys.”
“But you said there were several statues of Sekhmet in that cache. Bronze, faience, gilded—”
“Do you know how many Egyptian antiquities are floating around on the black market?” Charley returned the statue to Co
le, her frustration growing. “Hell, Dorian. You can buy a royal mummy if you know the right people. They used to eat them.”
“Is that true?” Aiden asked.
Dorian scoffed. “Forgive me for not knowing the quote unquote right people in your vast underground network of criminals and thieves.”
“You can really buy a mummy?” Aiden asked. “How much do they—”
Charley cut him off with a look that could shrivel his balls.
Dorian sighed. “Fine. It was a long shot, granted.”
“You spent a half-million dollars on a long shot?” she asked. “I’m selling a bridge in Brooklyn if you’re interested.”
“I might be,” he snapped, “if I thought for one moment it would help us nail the bastard who likely wants you and your sister dead, and—lest we forget—is working for the bloody demons, who likely want all of us dead.”
Dorian’s words found their target, piercing Charley’s heart with stunning accuracy.
What could she say to that? He was right, and despite wracking her brain all week for information on Rudy, she hadn’t been able to come up with anything particularly useful.
It wasn’t surprising Dorian had made a move.
She just wished he’d trusted her enough to tell her about it first.
Now, fully taking in the sight of her for the first time since he’d pulled in the driveway—messy bun, leggings, a baggy sweatshirt she’d pilfered from his closet—Dorian said, “What are you doing out here, anyway? Did something happen?”
Silence fell between them, an eerie hush marred only by the crickets and the whisper of dried leaves. Suddenly, all of Charley’s frustration faded, replaced by a deep sense of foreboding.
“I woke up, and you were gone,” she said, the admission leaving her raw. “We said no more secrets, and you snuck out anyway.”
Aiden coughed, a gentle reminder they still had an audience, but Charley no longer cared.
“We arranged the meeting days ago,” Dorian said. “I thought if we could get a foot in the door with Estas, we might be able to track down some relevant intel about your uncle’s involvement with Rogozin. We’re running out of time, love. I’m not sure what else to do.”
