reserved for his staff. “Until we’ve taken care of your uncle and Duchanes.”
Charlotte looked up, surprised and a bit confused. “Here? At Ravenswood?”
“Your uncle suspects you’ve tricked me into falling in love with you. Lovers spend their nights together. As for Duchanes…” He curled his fists, resisting the urge to pummel the stone bench. “It’s not safe for you in the city. Not until we’ve located him and eradicated the threat.”
“After what I saw today,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, “you can’t tell me we’re any safer here, Dorian.”
“Here I can at least keep an eye on you.”
“Every minute? Of every day? Because that’s the only way I’d feel safe anywhere right now.” She closed her eyes, a shiver rolling through her body. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and broken. “Besides, I need to get back home. I’ve got some things to take care of.”
“What things?”
“Just… some personal things.”
“What personal things?” he demanded.
“Seriously, Dorian?” She opened her eyes and got to her feet, that beautiful fire sparking to life once more. “I’m not your staff, or your younger brothers, or your loyal subject, or even your fucking girlfriend. I don’t owe you an explanation about my personal affairs. In fact, you don’t even get to ask about my personal affairs. You gave up that right the minute you decided we were over.”
“I’d just discovered you were a thief, woman! What was I supposed to do? Roll out the bloody red carpet? Yes, do come in, make yourself at home, take anything you’d like. Shall I fix you a sandwich and a drink while you’re fleecing me?”
“I said I was sorry and I meant it. You don’t get to keep throwing it in my face. Do you need to hear it again? Fine. I’m sorry!”
“Not as sorry as I, believe me.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on you.”
“Eyes. Right. That’s what you laid on me.”
Dorian shook his head, a bitter laugh rushing from his lungs. “You seduced me, woman. All part of your con, no doubt.”
“I seduced you?”
“What else do you call it when a woman wantonly throws herself upon a man at a private auction, distracting him from the fact that she’s—oh, right. Plotting yet another heist!”
“You are so full of yourself, highness. It’s a wonder your brothers can fit in the manor with your ego taking up so much room!”
“And you’ve got an attitude problem the size of the Empire State Building. It’s a wonder your sister hasn’t run for the bloody hills!”
“Run for the… You know what? Just… just bite me, vampire.”
He grabbed her and blurred her against the stone wall, pinning her wrists above her head, trapping her body with the hard press of his hips.
Her eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desire, her breath quickening right along with her heartbeat.
“That smart mouth is going to get you in trouble one day, Ms. D’Amico,” he warned.
“Let. Me. Go.” She struggled against his hold, glaring at him as if she could will him to burst into flames.
He swept his gaze from her eyes down to her mouth, full and soft and kissable. He recalled that night in the basement at the fundraiser, the first time he’d lost control and stolen a taste of her exquisite blood.
A pulse of desire throbbed in his balls.
“Is that what you want, little prowler?” he whispered, tightening his grip on her wrists, grinding against her warm, soft body.
She gasped at the press of his stone-hard cock, arching her hips to meet him.
His muscles trembled with barely contained lust, his blood racing, pulse pounding like a drum between his ears, drowning out the sound of her frantic heartbeat. The scent of her desire flooded his senses, the energy between them crackling like a gathering storm.
Her earlier taunt echoed.
Bite me, vampire…
Dorian wanted to bite her. To absolutely ravage her.
“Fuck,” she breathed, her eyelids falling closed. She cursed again, then shook her head, leaning back against the wall, her resistance evaporating. “Option two. I want option two.”
He was on his knees in a heartbeat, yanking down her thin leggings and lacy black thong, burying his face in the smooth, wet heat that had fueled his fantasies for weeks.
Tonight, there would be no teasing, no holding back, no exquisite restraint.
Only his raw, primal hunger, unleashed and untamed, reclaiming what was rightfully his with every delicious stroke.
Taking her.
Marking her.
Owning her.
Charlotte fisted his hair and gasped, and he gripped her thighs and plunged his tongue inside, fucking her with deep,