Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,80

Mr. Redthorne—in any way that I can—until such time as our partnership can be solidified.”

Fresh hope rose in Dorian’s heart. A bonded witch, after more than fifty years without one…

It felt like a dream. No more chasing down freelancers. No more fading tattoos, eyes aching in the sunlight, mind clouding with confusion. No more falling victim to his insatiable hunger so soon after a feed.

He could regain his full power. Protect his family. Protect his woman.

It was almost too good to be true.

“You’re… certain?” Dorian asked. “I’m not sure how much of that meeting you overheard, but I feel compelled to warn you my family is not in its strongest position right now. And with Duchanes causing havoc from afar… You’re putting yourself at risk, Isabelle.”

In response, she gestured for Dorian to hold out his hands, palms up.

“You’ll have to excuse the blood,” he said. “Malcolm and I—”

“I know.” She placed her hands over his, their palms touching. “May I?”

Dorian nodded, and Isabelle closed her eyes, whispering an ancient incantation that warmed his skin, sending waves of heat cascading up both arms.

The magic was following the lines of his tattoos, he realized. Strengthening them as surely as Charlotte’s blood had strengthened them. But unlike the spell, the blood was a remedy Dorian couldn’t rely on. Not without putting the woman he loved at risk.

He needed the witch. All of them needed the witch.

“Better?” she asked, pulling away.

Dorian rolled his shoulders, the magic finally dissipating, but the power still coursed through him like lightning. His vision sharpened, his mind clearing at once.

Without an official witch-vampire bond, the spell wouldn’t last long. But it was enough to bolster him for the weeks to come. More than that, it was a show of trust and commitment at a time when Dorian’s life was lacking in both.

“Thank you, Isabelle. You’ve no idea what this means.”

A kind smile touched her lips. “I understand all too well the obligations of family, and the often-thin line between duty and imprisonment.”

“A line that grows thinner with each passing day, I’m afraid.” He escorted her out of the study and back to the front door.

He offered her payment in vampire blood, but she refused, telling him there would be plenty of time for that later.

“In the meantime,” she said, “if you need anything, I want you to call me. Oh, and Mr. Redthorne?” She took his hands again, her eyes full of understanding.

This time, it was hard for him not to shy from her touch. Isabelle was an empathic witch; Dorian couldn’t hide his emotional state, no matter how vulnerable and weak revealing it made him feel.

“Do not allow the brutality of your past or the grim realities of your present to harden your heart,” she said. “In our world, love and kindness are strengths. They should be revered as such.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Always turned out to be a little longer than Charley had expected.

Waiting for Dorian in the master bedroom, she counted the minutes until she’d be in his arms again, but soon those minutes began to drag.

Anxious to pass the time, she showered and changed into one of Dorian’s T-shirts and a pair of leggings she’d left behind last weekend.

She texted with Sasha, who was having a blast with Darcy’s family on a fall foliage tour in Vermont for the weekend.

She checked in briefly with Rudy, who’d been oddly distant all week, letting him know she was at Ravenswood on another “fact-finding” mission.

She listened to some music.

Flipped through the Met’s online gallery.

Gazed out the window and counted the stars glittering over the Hudson.

And still, her man did not return.

At some point, Charley must’ve fallen asleep. Because when she opened her eyes again, three hours had passed in a blink, and the manor was as silent as a graveyard.

She couldn’t see the driveway from Dorian’s bedroom, but when she peeked out the window, the shadow of the helicopter was gone.

Charley wandered the halls of the manor like a ghost, desperately seeking her vampire king. With no sign of him upstairs or on the main level, she decided to wait in the study, where the fire still burned and crackled.

Wrapping herself in the blanket she now thought of as her own, she sat at the desk in the corner of the room and looked out across the study, trying to see it as Dorian might. She wondered how many family meetings had taken place in here—arguments as well as celebrations. She hoped there were more of the latter, but given what