Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,115
a bottle of bourbon from the mini bar set up in the corner, helping himself to a glass. “Your incessant backbiting is driving me to drink.”
Gabriel ignored him, determined to say his ridiculous piece.
“Let me remind you, highness, she was attacked on your watch. In your bedroom. And who’s responsible for nearly exsanguinating her? Oh, right!” He jabbed a finger into Dorian’s chest, an inferno blazing behind his typically cold eyes. “You did this, Dorian. So forgive me, brother, but my priority is protecting my family from our enemies, not babysitting your human pet.”
“Your priority,” Dorian warned, one insult away from giving his brother the same window treatment he’d given Duchanes, “is what I command it to be. I’m still your king. If that is too difficult a concept for you to grasp, remove yourself from my city.”
A low rumble vibrated in the back of Gabriel’s throat, but Malcolm stepped between them before the argument could escalate.
“Bloody hell, the two of you make me want to tear my own heart out.” He tossed back his bourbon, shaking his head. “Yes, we need to find Duchanes. Yes, we need to figure out whose demons have gone rogue. Yes, we need to eliminate the threats to our family. But Ms. D’Amico—despite her wretched choice in lovers—is an innocent human. We can’t stand by and let Duchanes use her as bait.”
Dorian and Gabriel continued to glare daggers at each other, but eventually, Dorian nodded, and Gabriel backed off.
“Any word from Aiden?” Malcolm asked.
“He’s still looking for Sasha,” Dorian said, pouring himself a scotch from the bar. He’d sent Aiden to track her down with little information to go on but what Charlotte had mentioned earlier—she was staying with a friend called Darcy in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn—prime Chernikov territory. Dorian had no idea how he’d convince the girl to return with him, but he trusted Aiden to see it through.
He’d likely have to compel her.
Charlotte would kill Dorian for it later, but he couldn’t worry about that now. Sasha needed to be here with her sister, where both of them could be kept safe. He’d deal with explanations and cover stories later.
“Dorian,” Gabriel said, his tone losing some of its earlier bite, “are you certain you can’t remember anything about the demon who attacked you?”
Dorian shook his head. “Dark hair, average build, average dress—nothing particularly memorable.”
“And you didn’t see his mark?”
“There was no time. But if we’re placing bets, my money is on Chernikov.” Dorian could barely get the man’s name out before the rage ignited inside him again. “Just like the demons Kate Connelly saw at Bloodbath—no one has been able to identify them, but my gut says all roads lead back to the Russian.”
“We can’t start a war with the most powerful demon in the city based solely on your gut,” Gabriel said.
“My war is with Duchanes. As for Chernikov…” Dorian sighed. “You’re right. We need more information.”
“Which we can’t get sitting around here, waiting for—”
“Dorian.” Colin emerged from the hallway, Marlys following behind.
All thoughts of Chernikov and Duchanes vanished.
“How is she?” Dorian abandoned his drink, his heart lodged in his throat.
“She’s going to be okay,” Colin said, and relief swept over Dorian in a rush. “She needs to rest for a few days, drink plenty of fluids, and avoid anything strenuous.”
Dorian was already heading down the hallway toward the bedroom.
Marlys grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”
“I need to see her, Marlys.”
“She’s still in and out of consciousness.”
“I don’t care.”
Marlys tightened her grip, her eyes blazing with a darkness Dorian had never before seen from his freelance witch. “You’ve done enough, Dorian Redthorne. I suggest you let her regain her strength.”
“Dorian,” Colin warned, “Marlys is right. We just got her back. We can’t risk you—”
“I’m not going to hurt her again,” he said softly. “That is a promise.”
Most of Dorian’s promises might’ve been worthless in their eyes—hell, a good portion of them were worthless in his own eyes. But not hurting Charlotte? Not drinking from her again? Those were promises he could now make without hesitation.
He’d always known her blood would drive him over the edge. Tonight, he’d gotten a glimpse of just how terrifying that edge could be, and he never wanted to go anywhere near it again.
Not even if his life depended on it.
Colin and Marlys must’ve seen the determination in his eyes, because they finally nodded and stepped aside, letting him pass.
Charlotte’s bedroom was luxuriously furnished but surprisingly plain, with no personal touches except for a