Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,31

his gums again, mouth filling with a taste for blood and vengeance.

Charlotte’s skin was swollen and red, a row of fresh bruises blooming across her collarbone like rotten grapes.

Dorian’s vision swam, blood pounding in his ears. He thought he’d been angry last night, finding the robbery plans in Charlotte’s bedroom. He thought he’d been angry when he’d cornered her in the dining room, confronting her with his dark past and her own bloody lies. He thought he’d been angry as he’d fucked her today, his traitorous heart still beating just for her, nearly breaking to think it might truly be their last time.

But seeing the perfect, silky-smooth flesh he’d eagerly kissed and caressed so many times before, suddenly bruised and battered…

I will find the man who did this, and he will beg for death…

“Who?” he demanded, fighting to keep his voice even, even as tremors of rage rocked his body.

Charlotte bent down to pull up her pants and retrieve her sweater, ducking his insistent gaze. She dressed quickly and covered herself up again, but now that he’d seen the marks, no amount of clothing would erase them from his mind.

“Charlotte, answer me.” Dorian wanted to break something. Someone. Had this happened before? Was it the snake who’d shown up here the night of the fundraiser, claiming to be her driver? Was it the man who’d ordered her into the SUV outside the Salvatore? Some other soon-to-be-dead man for whom Dorian should promptly order a coffin and headstone?

His mind reeled, his fury desperate to lock in on a target. In that moment, if Charlotte pointed out a stranger on the street and named him as the one, Dorian would’ve ripped the man’s throat out without a second thought.

“Charlotte?” he tried again, gently cupping her face. She looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, her lashes wet with tears. “Tell me his name.”

Charlotte bit her lower lip. She seemed at once determined and vulnerable, those eyes frantic, her mouth red from his kiss, her hair a mess. Even falling apart, she looked beautiful. Dorian didn’t know how she always managed to get under his skin, but she did—every fucking time. And despite his intention of keeping a safe distance, all of his cool rationality—along with a good bit of his sanity and the last shreds of his self-preservation—had flown out the window the moment he’d seen those bruises.

Oh, who was he kidding? It wasn’t just the bruises. His good intentions died the moment he’d laid eyes on her today, so clearly happy to see him, so confused by his cold response. He could no more keep his guard up than he could keep his mouth from devouring her lush, soft lips or his body from craving the exquisite taste of her blood.

Dorian ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes in an effort to regain his composure. When he opened them again, she was still watching him, her own gaze desperate and frightened.

But not of him.

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed about that.

“Tell me this much,” he said. “Are your injuries related to the information I found in your bedroom?”

At this, she finally nodded, letting loose a deep sigh. A strand of auburn hair stuck to her lips, fluttering in the shallow breeze of her breath. Dorian couldn’t take his eyes off it. Off her, the woman who’d gotten him so turned round he could barely think straight.

“It was my boss,” she admitted. “Rudy.”

Rudy. Even the name enraged him, the sound of it setting fire to his ears.

“Was this the boss I met outside the Salvatore? The one who all but shoved you into the SUV and sped you away from me?”

“Yeah, and before you ask why I work for such a trash fire of a person… Rudy’s not just my boss, Dorian. He’s my uncle.”

“Your uncle?” Dorian didn’t know why it surprised him. It wasn’t as if his family was a stellar example of love and loyalty. But still, it did.

He’d wanted better for Charlotte, he realized. Despite everything he’d learned about her, everything he’d speculated in the hours since discovering those floor plans, he’d still wanted her to be innocent. Not of the crime, perhaps, but in the sense that maybe she’d been spared some of life’s harsher brutalities.

That had been a fool’s hope, of course. She was as damaged as he was. In different ways, but nevertheless scarred.

He’d seen the darkness inside her from the moment they’d first locked eyes in the Salvatore lobby.