Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,95

his mind. There was no room for it.

Bloody hell, woman. Where are you?

“Charlotte!” he repeated.

A small voice finally broke through, echoing across the sea of writhing grays. “Dorian?”

Dorian nearly fell to his knees. His name on her lips was a sonnet, a symphony.

“Charlotte,” he breathed, the sound of her voice—however faint—giving him new life. “She’s alive. Where are you?”

“Trapped in the dumpster!” she called back.

“Stay put,” he said. “We’re coming after you.”

“See you on the other side, brothers.” Cole shifted into his wolf form and charged in.

Aiden and Dorian exchanged a quick glance.

“About that raise…” Aiden said.

“Fuck yourself, mate.”

“Let’s hope we live long enough for that.”

And with that, Dorian and his best mate blurred into the knot of grays.

As Dorian knew it would, the unprovoked attack put the beasts on the defense. It was as if someone had flipped the switch; all at once, they attacked.

Side by side with his friends, in a desperate bid to reach his woman, Dorian fought them off, dodging their vicious but uncoordinated attacks, ripping heads from bodies as if he were pulling weeds from the garden. More than half of them had the demon amulets, their bodies rising again almost as soon as they hit the ground.

How the fuck had so many managed to reach the city?

The question prodded the back of his mind, but Dorian didn’t have time to ponder it. Right now, there was only the fight. Another head, another bloody heart, another amulet ripped from its cords, another pile of ash at his feet. The stench of so much blood and gore nearly overwhelmed him. Yet all the while, the sight of that grimy black dumpster in the shadows was a lighthouse in the storm, keeping him on course.

Charlotte was in there.

She was alive.

Getting to her was all that mattered.

The fight had drawn the grays away from her, and Dorian didn’t let up. Hours? Days? Time lost all meaning. He had a job to do, and he fucking did it—his arms burning, his body soaked with their foul blood, his eyes blurry—until the last gray in his sights turned to ash.

“Will you please fuck off!” Aiden shouted, and Dorian spun around just in time to watch him shove a metal pole through the gray’s throat, then rip off its head.

That final gray wore no amulet, his body turning to ash before its head even hit the ground.

Certain that was the last one, Aiden dropped his weapon, the clang of the metal pole ringing out across the now quiet alley.

“Tell you one thing,” Aiden said, leaning back against the brick exterior to catch his breath. “These assholes are even more relentless than the pigeons in Time’s Square.”

“And they taste a lot worse too,” Cole said, dragging a sleeve across his bloody mouth. He’d just shifted back into his human form, naked and covered in gore, but unhurt.

A river of blood washed down the alley, mixing with the ashes of the dead into a bright red paste. Dorian tried not to slip on it as he picked his way toward the dumpster, heart thudding against his ribs.

Why was she so quiet?

“Charlotte?” he called softly.

No response.

A pulse of fear shot through his heart.

“Charlotte, love?”

Nothing.

The world tilted on its axis, nearly dumping him off.

No. She can’t be…

Behind him, Cole and Aiden fell silent.

Terror shook him to his core, but Dorian forced himself to continue that long, agonizing march to the dumpster.

A familiar scent rose above the stench of the alley, sharp and sweet. Unique. His.

It was Charlotte’s blood.

Fucking hell…

When he finally reached the dumpster, the scent of her blood nearly overpowered him. He wrapped his hands around the edge of the lid, closed his eyes, and made a wish. One fucking wish in his entire immortal life. This was all he wanted—all he’d ever ask for again.

Please, please let her be alive.

He shoved open the lid. And then, without looking inside, he hauled himself over the edge and dropped down inside.

The dumpster was mostly empty, but for a few bits of trash and broken bottles. And there, huddled in the corner, a small, dark lump.

Hot tears welled in his eyes, and he fell to his knees, afraid to call to her again. Afraid she wouldn’t respond.

But he had to know.

He reached out and touched her shoulder.

The lump twitched, and she lifted her head, turning to meet his eyes in the darkness.

“Dorian?” She smiled faintly, a flower blooming in the trash.

“Bloody hell, woman.” The breath rushed from his chest, kickstarting that slab of meat in his