creatures cross his path. He retreats to caves and tunnels, as sunlight blisters his skin so horribly, it exposes the muscle and bone beneath. Eventually, over many years, he will decompose, alive and conscious till the bitter end.”
The strawberry turned to lead in her stomach, and Charley lowered her eyes.
The awkwardness crept back in between them, a thousand new questions burning through her mind like wildfire. There was so much she wanted to know—about vampires, about his family, about Dorian himself—but every time she opened her mouth to ask another question, her words turned to ash.
It was crazy. All of it. And it wasn’t her world. She shouldn’t have gotten a single glimpse, let alone an up-close-and-personal tour.
But she had.
Charley took a few more bites, but despite her grumbling stomach, she couldn’t eat.
Setting down her fork, she said, “I think it’s probably best if I head out.”
“You want to eat in the gardens? I can bring everything—”
“No, Dorian. I want to go home.”
“Now? But you’d planned to stay the weekend. I haven’t even told you about the art you asked after, and despite my best efforts to scare you off…” He offered a small smile, breaking through some of the tension. “…it’s clear you have questions about other things as well.”
“You mean about mindless vampires and werewolves and bogeymen?” Charley rolled her eyes, waiting for him to tell her she’d seen too many movies.
But Dorian said nothing.
“Are there other supernatural beings?” she asked. “Not just vampires?”
He speared a bite of waffle with his fork and shrugged. “I thought you wanted to go home.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore. That’s the problem.” She rubbed her eyes, her resolve weakening. Curiosity was definitely winning out—not just about the stolen artwork, but about the whole new world Dorian had opened up. With a single glance, he’d smashed through the lid on Pandora’s Box, and now that those demons had escaped, there was no putting them back inside.
“Wait… what about demons?” She looked up at him again, her heart sputtering.
“You’ve got questions, I’ve got answers.” Dorian’s mouth curved into a smug, sexy smile. “Perhaps I can tempt you with another deal.”
Charley shook her head, but she was already smiling again too. “State your terms, Mr. Redthorne.”
“I’ll allow you to return to the city this afternoon, if you’ll allow me to take you on a brief detour first.”
“Where?”
“A place I think you’ll love. It’s not far.”
“Hmm. So you can murder me and drink my blood?”
“Charlotte, I don’t need to leave the comfort of my own home to drink your blood, nor do I need to murder you.” His eyes glittered with mischief, despite the warning lurking beneath the surface.
Still, he had saved her life. Not just last night, but that night in Central Park too. Maybe he wanted to scare her, but Charley’s gut told her he didn’t want to hurt her.
Just the opposite, actually.
His eyes softened, and he let out a deep sigh. “You have questions only I can answer. I’m offering to do just that. But you need to show me a little trust too.”
“I know. It’s just… a lot to process. You’re a lot to process.”
He reached across the table and took her hand, stroking his thumb over her skin, sending ripples of heat up her arm. “Spend the day with me, love. Let me show you my favorite place in the world.”
“Just talking, right?”
“If that’s what you wish, then yes. Just talking.”
Charley drained the last of her coffee, then set her mug down on the table, decision made.
“Fine. But I’ve got a pre-condition.” She smirked and nodded toward the door beyond the breakfast nook—the one that led out to the garage, where Dorian’s collection of priceless automobiles awaited. “I’m driving.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sitting in the passenger seat of his red 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO, Dorian wiped his damp hands on his pants.
I can’t believe I agreed to this.
“Don’t worry,” Charlotte said, downshifting smoothly to take the next curve. She reached over and patted his knee as she accelerated into the turn. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“But it’s not a rodeo, is it? No.” Dorian removed her hand and placed it firmly back on the wheel. “It’s a priceless piece of machinery careening down a mountain road with a driver who may or may not be plotting my demise.”
“Careening? Please. I’m in complete control.” Charlotte laughed, her hair whipping around her face in the breeze. She took her hand off the wheel to brush away a few strands that had blown into her