wrapped around her midsection, noticing the stark contrast of his tattoos—the magic that allowed him to walk in the daylight, among other things. “They look darker tonight.”
“I fed this morning. Not to worry—just a few sodding demons.”
“Demons?” Alarm shot through her limbs, and she wriggled free from his iron grip to gaze up at his face. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter, love. It’s over now.”
But it wasn’t over—that much was obvious. His jaw was tight, his eyes haunted by a new darkness that hadn’t been there last night, even after everything that had happened with Sasha, Rudy, and the grays in the alley.
“Dorian, please don’t shut me out. Not now. We said no more secrets.”
He cupped her face again, his touch as delicate as a feather. “It’s not my intention to shut you out, Charlotte. I’m simply… I want to protect you. I need to protect you, and protecting you means showing some discretion with—”
“Bullshit.” Charley glared at him, frustration rising in her voice. “Look. I realize you’re an immortal vampire and I’m a weak human and you’ve got this whole overbearing, overprotective thing going on, and don’t get me wrong—I appreciate it. Especially when you’re hauling me out of dumpsters and beating off grays. But this?” She traced her fingertips over the wrinkle of tension between his eyes, then moved down to his chest, placing her hand flat against his bare skin. Beneath her touch, his heartbeat thrummed. “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to protect me from it.”
Dorian reached up and grabbed her hand, holding it firm against his chest. “You’re not weak, Charlotte. Not by a long shot. But I’m not going to add to your nightmares just to momentarily unburden myself.”
“I’m not afraid of your pain. Only of losing you to it.”
He held her gaze a few more beats, then finally relented. “Gabriel and I interrogated some of Rogozin’s demons today, hoping to net a bit of useful information. It was… unpleasant, to say the least. We left none alive.”
“What happened?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to loosen whatever terrible memories had gotten stuck inside.
“Through all those gruesome hours,” he said, “all I could think about was coming home to you. Coming home to this moment, right here. To your soft skin, to your perfect… everything.” He drew her close again, burying his face against her neck and inhaling her scent. “You are the only good thing in… I can’t…” His voice crumbled. “I’ve done things, Charlotte. Dark, terrible things I don’t wish to bring home to the bed we share. Please don’t ask me to.”
The pain in his voice nearly broke her heart. She knew it’d cost him something to admit even that much—something she wasn’t sure he’d meant to lose.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, because in all the things he hadn’t said, the truth shone as starkly as if he’d written it in blood.
Whatever Dorian had done today, whatever brutalities he’d administered, whatever hell he’d put himself through… He’d done it for her.
She closed her eyes and lay her head against his chest, taking comfort in the strong, steady beat of his heart. Dorian slid his hand into her hair and stroked her head, and they held each other close, seconds turning to minutes, time slowing to grant them this momentary reprieve.
When the darkness finally began to abate, Dorian pulled back and glanced down at her face, his gaze sweeping to her mouth. The warmth had returned to his eyes, chasing off his earlier torments.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Any pain?”
“I was a little sore this morning, but I’m actually doing okay. Colin did a good job patching me up. I was hoping to thank him, but I didn’t see him around today. Is he staying somewhere else?”
“I’m afraid Colin is still spending most of his time in the crypts. My father left a number of medical journals in his laboratory there, and—”
“Wait. Your father had a medical lab? In the crypts?” Charley laughed. “That’s what I get for skipping the official tour.”
“The lab isn’t part of the official tour. But if you’d like, I could put in a word with the owner.” He brushed a powder-soft kiss across her lips and whispered, “I hear he likes you.”
“Don’t tell my vampire boyfriend. He’s kind of the jealous type.”
“Your vampire boyfriend is definitely the jealous type.”
“Why do vampires even need crypts? I never understood that.”
“They’re a holdover from the original manor in West Sussex—all part of