Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,74

just any guest, but a woman he’d claimed as his own.

It meant war.

In some ways, Dorian was relieved. Politics was complicated. But war? War simplified things.

Duchanes would suffer. His bloodline would burn. And then, when the last of his house was forgotten and scattered to the winds, Dorian would personally send his enemy into the jaws of hell.

But first, he needed to take care of Charlotte.

“Dorian?” a weak voice called, pulling him back to the moment.

Dropping the cloth, he took her hands and pressed them to his mouth, breathing in her scent. “Thank the gods and the devil both. How are you feeling?”

She blinked down at him from the chair, her eyes still unfocused, her brow furrowed. “I think… I need a drink.”

“Of course.” He got to his feet and headed for the small bar he kept stocked in the study, pouring her a hefty dose of his favorite scotch. “I don’t have gin on hand, but—”

“It’s fine. Anything is fine.” She reached for the glass, then downed it in a few gulps, wincing at the burn.

“Better?” he asked.

She held out the glass for more.

He poured a little less this time. “Careful, love. You’ve only just regained consciousness.”

Heeding his advice, she took a measured sip, fighting off a shiver. “What happened?”

Dorian pulled a blanket from another chair and draped it over her shoulders. “You had a fall. Nothing to worry about—just a slip and a good scare.” He told her the story he’d invented, sending gentle waves of compulsion through her mind.

“It’s weird,” she said. “I remember walking along the path, and seeing Gabriel by the tree, and sitting on the bench by myself. I texted my sister, and then… I don’t know. It’s all a big blank.”

“You may have a concussion,” he said, knowing damn well she didn’t. “I’ll keep an eye on you tonight.”

She offered a watery smile, the first he’d seen since their encounter in the basement hours earlier. “Thank you, Dorian. I… I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all.”

“Where is everyone else?”

“I sent them home.”

Charlotte squeezed her forehead and groaned. “Oh, God. I ruined the whole party.”

“Nonsense.” Dorian knelt before her again, sliding his hands up her thighs. “It was the perfect excuse to cut short an otherwise dreadful evening.”

She laughed, but it rang hollow, her eyes still glazed with confusion.

Dorian lowered his gaze, his mind racing. Other than a few cuts on her feet, which he’d already healed with his blood, Charlotte didn’t have any physical injuries—he would’ve sensed them. So why wasn’t she accepting the compulsion? Even if the ordeal had left her drained, her mind should’ve been clear by now.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked.

“It bothers me that I don’t remember falling. I don’t remember you guys finding me, either. You said Gabriel was with you?”

“Yes. I was already looking for you—I ran into him on the path. That’s when we heard you calling for help.”

She nodded, but Dorian sensed her mind was still spinning, working over the details and searching for the holes in his story. He was about to try another round of compulsion when Aiden entered the study, Gabriel and Malcolm right behind him.

Their grim faces said it all.

“Nothing?” Dorian asked anyway, rising and crossing the room to meet them. He didn’t want Charlotte to overhear.

“Not a trace,” Gabriel said. The blood on his shirt had dried to a muddy black, and Dorian curled his hands into fists, another wave of fury rippling through him as he thought of the Duchanes traitors.

“How is Charlotte?” Aiden asked.

Dorian glanced over his shoulder and found her holding the drink in her lap, staring into the fire as if the flames held all the answers. “Hard to say. She doesn’t remember much.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Aiden asked.

Dorian sighed and shook his head.

“Didn’t you compel her?” Malcolm asked, unable to keep the superior tone from his voice.

Dorian glared at him. “Didn’t you seek an alliance with a murderer?”

“We don’t know that Renault gave the order for the attack,” he said.

“Where is he, then? If he’s innocent, he should be just as eager to uncover the traitors of House Duchanes as we are. Instead, he’s fled the scene like a—”

“Dorian.” Aiden gripped his arm, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand. “The compulsion. It didn’t take?”

Dorian shook his head. “Doesn’t seem so. Not fully, anyway.”

“Dorian?” Charlotte called out now, her tone more curious than anything else. “Am I going to turn?”

“Turn?” Dorian exchanged a shocked glance with Aiden, then returned to