Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,3
is a direct violation of the Shadow Accords, not to mention an invitation to more bloodshed. Risking my own head is one thing, but I can’t ask you to—”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” Isabelle said. “Besides, demon blood is almost as useful to me as yours. I could stand to restock.”
“Restock. Right.” Dorian folded his arms across his chest, scrutinizing her face for the lie. “Why are you doing this? And don’t tell me it’s got anything to do with your dwindling supplies, or even upholding your father’s wishes for Armitage Holdings.”
“I told you last night,” she said. “When it comes to family obligations, there’s a thin line between duty and imprisonment. Let’s just say I’m ready to redraw that line for myself.”
“Meaning?”
She held his gaze for another beat, assessing him as plainly as he’d been assessing her.
“I’m tired of wasting my considerable talents managing my brothers’ affairs,” she finally said, “and I’ve no interest in freelancing. For years, I’ve been searching for a vampire partnership that will grant me the freedom to explore a… Let’s call it a non-traditional course.” She met his gaze, her eyes fierce and formidable in the firelight. “My intuition tells me House Redthorne is not only tolerant of such an approach, but in desperate need of it.”
Dorian couldn’t argue with that. “I appreciate the honesty.”
“That’s all you’ll ever get from me, Dorian. If you’re looking for someone to pour sugar over shit and call it a cupcake, I’m afraid this is where we part ways.”
Dorian almost laughed, but Isabelle was dead serious.
He looked at her with new eyes, his respect and appreciation growing. There were few people he trusted in this world, but Isabelle Armitage was quickly becoming one of them.
“Very well,” he finally said. “Gather your things and wait for me in the garage. I need a moment with Aiden.”
Isabelle nodded, then headed back into the house.
Next to him, Aiden had his phone out, thumbs flying across the screen.
“Who are you texting?” Dorian asked.
“Gabriel. You need backup on this.”
“You don’t trust Isabelle?”
“Listen, Dori. Any woman who can put you in your place like that is a bloody godsend. But if she’s busy muting and banishing demons, you’ll need someone to pass you the fire poker.”
“The… what?”
“Honestly. Did they teach you nothing at royal vampire school?” Aiden rolled his eyes. “Shoving a hot poker up a demon’s ass is a two-man job.”
“Thank you, as ever, for the visual. But Gabriel isn’t…” Dorian crouched down to retrieve another loose piece of wood, then whipped it into the fire. “The only reason he’s even tracking Silas is that it gives him an excuse to avoid me at Ravenswood.”
“Never thought I’d say this about Gabriel, but perhaps you don’t give him enough credit.”
“He’s literally the last vampire looking to help me. Well, second-last, if we’re counting the brother whose heart I nearly excavated.”
“Lucky for us, torture is a game the whole family can play. And from what I hear, the cold-hearted little princeling is a real pro.” Aiden finished up his text, then waited for the return message.
After what felt like an eternity, the phone finally buzzed.
“Well?” Dorian asked.
“He says to text him when you’re close. He’ll meet you outside the Sixty-First Street Station in—”
“Woodside?” Dorian got to his feet and dusted off his hands. “That’s in Queens. Rogozin’s territory.”
“Precisely. Gabriel says Rogozin’s got some sort of chop shop in the neighborhood.”
“That’s… that’s actually a good lead.”
“No one knows how to navigate the seedy metropolitan underbellies of the world like your baby brother.” Aiden slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Right, then. You’ve got your witch, your assistant torturer, and of course—favorite among favorites—me, entrusted with looking after the lovely Ms. D’Amico, hoping like hell she doesn’t wake up and ask me where you’ve gone. How I get myself into these escapades is beyond me, but you’re welcome.”
Dorian smiled, the crushing weight on his chest lifting just a fraction. “Thank you, Aiden. Truly.”
“Just come back to me in one piece, you damned fool.”
“I shall do my best.”
“I mean it, Dori. I’m not redecorating the dining room alone. Ask anyone—I’m right terrible at blending textures and patterns.”
“Good to know,” Dorian said. Then, shocking them both, he hauled Aiden in for a hug, holding him tight. “Take care of my woman. And save me a few marshmallows—I’ll be back before you know it.”
Chapter Two
If there was one thing Charley’s years of thieving and con artistry had taught her, it was how to compartmentalize.