Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,77
her feet, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut to stem the tide of nausea. When she finally opened them again, she and her captor were no longer in the study.
“What the hell did you do?” she breathed.
“It’s called a blur.”
“Yeah? I’m pretty sure you left my internal organs behind.”
Dorian kicked a door closed behind them, then set her on her feet.
“Just breathe,” he said again—refrain of the hour. “The feeling will pass.”
She did as he asked, and the new room slowly sharpened into focus.
The master bedroom.
It was massive and imposing, with deep red walls, dark wood paneling, and gorgeous hardwood floors covered in Turkish rugs. Ornate tapestries hung over the windows, and every piece of furniture looked as if it belonged in some ancient British castle rather than in a mansion in Upstate New York.
A colossal four-poster bed dominated the back wall, each intricately carved column the size of a small tree. The whole thing was topped by a huge oak tester, with black-and-gold damask curtains hung from each corner.
The room was truly fit for a king.
A creepy one.
“I take it this is your bedroom, highness?” she asked, forcing a little more sass into her voice. As it was, her skin was covered in goosebumps, her heartbeat thrumming at a fevered pitch.
Vampires.
They were all vampires.
Her brain was still railing against the idea, even though she knew—deep down—it was true.
Malcolm, with his holier-than-thou attitude and mistrustful eyes. Gabriel, the brother with the biggest stick up his ass. Colin, with his kind dimples and shiny hair. Aiden, with his cute jokes and sparkling eyes. The men that had attacked her.
Even Dorian, a man she’d been inexplicably drawn to from the start—the proverbial moth to the flame.
“It is,” he finally replied.
“You blurred me up to your bedroom?” Charlotte let out a nervous laugh. “I think you were confusing my screams of protest with my screams of passion.”
“Not likely. I can assure you, the difference is quite distinct.”
“Then let me make something even more distinct. This?” She gestured between the two of them. “…is not happening. And don’t you dare try any of that compulsion bullshit again. There’s a word for that, Dorian. Forcing a woman to—”
“I’ve already told you—I did not compel your desire. Even if it were possible, it’s a line I would never cross.”
“Why?” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against one of the bed’s oak columns. “Because you’re such a nice chap?”
His eyes blazed again, two embers in a face of stone. “Because even the most evil among us have their limits.”
A shiver rolled through her body, but she stood her ground. “Then how does it work? You just… erase people’s memories whenever you feel like it?”
Dorian shoved a hand through his hair, clearly flustered.
But Charlotte wasn’t going to let this drop.
“A skilled vampire can compel humans to forget recent events or conversations,” he said. “He can manipulate memories to make you believe you saw something other than the truth. He can order you to perform certain acts, or say certain words, or even take your own life. But he cannot compel a woman to want him.” He stepped closer, trapping her against the column, glaring down at her with those intense eyes. Then, brushing his fingertips across her collarbone and taking a deep draw of breath, “He cannot compel her body to respond to his touch, nor to create the unmistakable scent of her darkest desires.”
Charlotte closed her eyes, the shiver finally breaking through, rattling her from head to toe.
It would’ve been so easy to give in. To push aside everything she’d seen tonight—to bury it with her guilt and shame and all the other dark things she kept locked in a box—and fall into his eager embrace.
But she wouldn’t. Not this time.
She looked up at him again and shook her head. “I’m not sleeping with you tonight, Dorian. Forget it.”
Dorian sighed and took a step back, breaking their connection. “I didn’t bring you here for sex, Charlotte.”
“So we’re gonna sit around and play Scrabble, then?” She shoved against the column behind her, but it was as immovable as solid stone. “God, this thing was probably made in the middle ages.”
“Renaissance, actually.” He glared at her, broody as ever.
“Seriously? Fine. I’ve got a better game. Twenty questions. Me first.” She popped her hands on her hips and glared right back at him. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you’re a… a bloodsucking vampire king?”