Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,7
from her vampire felt like a memory now. She pulled off the bandage; her skin was unmarred.
Had she imagined the whole damn thing?
She needed to talk to Dorian. Why wasn’t he there?
Worry tugged on her heart as another memory surfaced—Dorian, begging her not to die. Blaming himself for drinking too much blood, his eyes full of anguish and fear. A woman imploring him in the hallway. You’ve done enough, Dorian Redthorne…
No. Charley needed to talk to him. Now.
With slow, awkward movements, she searched her bedroom for the phone, but it wasn’t there. It was probably still at Dorian’s place in Tribeca. For all she knew, it’d fallen into the hands of Duchanes and the demon.
Without her phone, she couldn’t get in touch with Dorian. She couldn’t even check on her sister. Sasha had planned to stay at Darcy’s all weekend, but what if she had an emergency? What if Duchanes had somehow tracked her down?
What if Duchanes had come back for Dorian or his brothers?
The tug of worry on her heart turned into full-blown panic.
Ignoring her throbbing head, Charley slipped into her bathrobe, then put one shaky foot in front of the other and exited the bedroom.
Almost immediately, she sensed it—something was off.
The roses, she realized. The smell had been so sweet and overpowering, yet now, she could barely detect them. All she could smell now was bacon. Burned bacon.
Someone was in the kitchen. Not Dorian, as she’d foolishly hoped. Someone graceless and crass, cursing up a storm as he rifled through the cupboards, silverware and dishes clanging, breakfast burning on the stove.
As she reached the end of the hallway, her heart dropped into her stomach.
The roses were gone. Every last one of them, erased as if they’d never even been there at all.
And there, standing at the stove with a towel draped over his shoulder, scraping charred bacon from the cast iron skillet, was the man responsible for ruining her day before it’d even begun.
“Uncle Rudy?” Charley’s voice cracked, her throat raw.
Rudy glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned—a warm, welcoming smile for his favorite niece.
Right.
Charley didn’t miss the warning flickering behind it.
“Good morning,” he said, taking in her disheveled appearance. “You look… hungry.”
“What happened to my roses?”
“I had the doorman remove them.” He clucked his tongue. “Honestly, Charlotte. They were starting to rot.”
Tears stung her eyes, the headache behind them roaring into five-alarm migraine territory.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, willing the tears not to fall. Rudy would never understand how much those flowers had meant to her. In his eyes, they were just one more beautiful thing he saw fit to ruin—one more way to drain the color from her life.
“Take a seat,” he said, ignoring her question as well as her obvious distress. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
Breakfast with him? Like hell.
“I’ll just grab a coffee. I’m not feeling—”
“Sit down, Charlotte.” He turned to face her, abandoning the bacon on the stove.
Now, instead of the spatula, he held a gun.
“Holy shit!” She backed up against the wall, holding up her hands in surrender. For all his bullshit, Rudy had never pulled his gun on her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You and I? We’re going to eat breakfast together, like a real family. We’re going to have a serious conversation about the way things need to change around here. And Charlotte?” He crept toward her, his eyes sparkling with cold, hard malice. “You’re going to drop that fucking attitude, or the next time a man sends roses, it will be for your funeral.”
Chapter Four
It was unwise to confront Chernikov without the proper protections, but Marlys was unreachable and Dorian couldn’t locate a backup witch on such short notice. Cole thought he should wait it out, but every minute that passed was another in which Duchanes could recover his strength and stage another gruesome attack.
Dorian had no idea what the vampire was planning—only that it likely ended with the Redthornes in a pile of smoldering ash, the city’s supernatural factions suffering under the reign of a vicious moron, and vampires running roughshod over the entire human population.
As for Charlotte…
Dorian sighed. He could only imagine what would become of the woman if Duchanes got his way. She’d survived not only the attack by his sirelings at Ravenswood, but Duchanes’ own ambush last night.
With those near misses on the books, there was no way Duchanes would let her slip away unscathed a third time. Without Dorian to protect her, she’d likely end up…