Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,89
an uppercut and a jab, the force of the blows making his head spin.
Another quick jab, a kick to the stomach, a fist to the face. Dorian took every blow, giving back just as many in return.
They fought like feral ghouls. They fought like grays. They fought until Dorian’s ears rang and the world spun, and still, Azerius did not capitulate.
Neither did Dorian.
Azerius blurred in close again, sinking his fangs into Dorian’s shoulder and tearing out a chunk of flesh, carving him clear down to the bone.
His arm felt as if it were on fire.
Despite the agony, Dorian landed a fresh series of blows to the size of Azerius’ head, then dropped to a crouch, sweeping his leg out in a wide arc and knocking Azerius onto his ass. He leaped onto the demon, pinning his arms with his knees and grabbing his head, slamming it hard into the ground, again and again and again, caving in the back of his skull.
Blood poured from the would, from his ears, from his mouth, but Azerius only laughed.
“You would kill your own brother for this woman?” he demanded. “This human?”
Dorian panted, his heart slamming against his ribs, sweat pouring into his eyes and nearly blinding him. “Again, and again, and again.”
The demon laughed once more. Then, in a move so sudden and unexpected it made the whole world spin, Azerius blurred them back to the edge of the roof, pinning Dorian down once more.
He wrapped his hands around Dorian’s throat, and this time, his grip didn’t slip. It was unrelenting, choking off the last of Dorian’s air, crushing his windpipe, fracturing the small bones of his neck.
Soon, he would pass out.
Soon, the crush of Azerius’s grip would decapitate him.
Soon, Dorian Redthorne would reach his immortal end.
“You fought well, vampire king,” Azerius taunted, blood leaking from an unhealed gash over his eye. “But only a miracle will save you now.”
Miracle.
The word triggered something in Dorian’s memory, just out of reach.
An argument with his brothers.
Colin, erupting in anger.
A glass vial flickering in the firelight. A deep, red-orange glow.
A miracle.
Colin’s words whispering from the farthest reaches of his mind.
The miracle our father spent the better part of his immortal life creating. Distilled to its essence, slightly improved for quicker administration and effectiveness, but the cure nevertheless...
A smudge of light as he blurred to the mantle.
His fingers closing on the cold glass vial.
The miracle, still in his shirt pocket where he’d shoved it out of Malcolm’s reach.
“I am Azerius,” the demon said now, a grin of victory twisting his cruel mouth. “I am the King of Blood and Ravens. I am He Who Slaughters the Blood of his Blood. I am He Who Drinks the Blood of the Fallen. I am He Whom Before All Mortals Weep.”
“You,” Dorian choked out, “are a test subject.” With his very last bit of strength, he jammed the syringe into Azerius’ neck and pressed the plunger, dosing him with the miracle cure.
The air rushed back into his lungs as Azerius released his throat, his hands clawing at the puncture wound.
But it was too late. The cure was already doing its work, turning the vampire body into a human, weakening him. Breaking him down.
With Azerius still looming over him, Dorian shoved his hand through the demon’s chest—Malcolm’s chest—gripping his heart just as he’d done the night of the council meeting.
In that terrible, blood-drenched moment, the demon’s eyes shifted from black to golden, his face crumpling in anguish as he looked upon Dorian with the face of his brother Malcolm.
“Please, brother,” he said, stealing Malcolm’s voice. “Don’t do this.”
A tear slid down Dorian’s cheek, and though he knew it wasn’t really Mac—knew it was just another of Azerius’ tricks—he took the opportunity to say goodbye anyway, knowing it would be the very last time he could.
“I’m so sorry, Mac. For… for everything. But it’s already done. I… I hope you find peace, brother.”
He tore the heart from his chest, holding it for a brief, bloody instant before everything turned to black ash in his hands, falling onto his chest and scattering in the chilly Manhattan wind.
Dorian got to his knees.
He stared at his hands for what felt like an eternity, and all around him, a hush fell over his city.
And then Dorian Redthorne, vampire king of New York, brother to the royal princes, slayer of the King of Blood and Ravens, closed his eyes and wept.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was Charlotte who saved him.
When they’d finally broken down the door and she appeared before