Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,75
the face.
It was a move straight out of Midnight Marauder, and it did wonders to brighten Dorian’s foul mood.
Malcolm hobbled backward and laughed, rubbing his now-bloodied mouth. “I see the king’s first sire is already getting accustomed to her vampire strength. Better watch it, brother—she’s feisty.”
Charlotte glared at him. “Touch me again, and you’ll need fucking surgery to remove my fist.”
He held up his hands, his smirk firmly in place. “Save your strength, Ms. D’Amico. You’ll need it once the curse takes hold.”
“You and your lies are not welcome here.” Dorian rose from the chair and pointed toward the door. “Take the bottle and go.”
“You feel it, Dorian. Tell me you don’t.”
“Irrelevant,” he snapped. “Once we’ve bonded with the witch, this won’t be—”
“It’s not the witch bond, brother. It’s the curse. And now you’ve cursed the woman you claim to love with the same fate.”
Dorian readied another denial, another command, another insult, but they all died on his tongue.
Despite the traitorous source of this new revelation, somehow, Dorian knew it was true. He could feel it in his fucking soul.
Bloody hell. Cursed by dark witches? Was there no land mine their father had left unplanted?
Dorian let out a deep sigh. “Is that all, Malcolm? Or is there some other darkness you’d like to spread at my feet tonight?”
“No need to be testy, Dorian. I only wanted to share the information.”
“Consider it shared.” He grabbed Malcolm’s elbow and steered him toward the door. “Now leave.”
Malcolm jerked free of his hold and glared at him. “You look at me with such contempt, all because I speak the truth. I would’ve thought you’d be more grateful.”
“The fact that I’m allowing you to leave this manor in anything other than an urn is all the gratitude I can muster. Perhaps you’re the one who should be grateful.”
“Me? And yet Gabriel gets a free pass?”
“For all his faults,” Dorian said, “Gabriel is not a traitor to the crown. To his own blood.”
“Are you certain?” Malcolm met Gabriel’s gaze across the room, his eyes darkening with new malice. “Certain in all our years as men and vampires, our little brother never once betrayed your trust?”
“Don’t,” Gabriel warned, but Malcolm only grinned.
Then, leaning in close to Dorian, he whispered, “Perhaps you should ask him about his relationship with Evie. As I understand it, they were quite… close.”
He blurred out of Dorian’s reach in a heartbeat, and Dorian turned to find Gabriel pinning Malcolm to the floor, hands wrapped around his throat.
“Charlotte,” Dorian said through gritted teeth, “if you’ll excuse us—”
“No problem. I’m more than happy to skip the testosterone-fest tonight.” She gave him an understanding smile and touched his shoulder, then left him to deal with his brothers alone.
Dorian tried to pry them apart, but Gabriel was enraged, his cold eyes boring into Malcolm with a dark hatred Dorian had only ever seen in their father.
Malcolm managed to get in a swift uppercut, which Gabriel was all too glad to return.
“Enough!” Dorian roared, yet still his brothers fought, throwing fists and baring fangs, tearing at each other like wild animals, destroying half the study in the process.
Dorian finally wedged himself between them, launching Gabriel into a chair and pinning Malcolm to the floor, a knee jammed hard between his shoulder blades.
Gabriel was just about to jump back in for another round when Colin blurred into the room.
“This ends now!” Colin bellowed, a darkness rising from within, his eyes burning with wrath.
The spectacle of Colin’s anger was so shocking, Dorian and the others immediately backed away from one another, retreating to separate corners of the room.
“The fighting, the insults, the blood…” Colin shook his head, his body trembling with rage. “Is this all we’re capable of? We’re brothers, for fuck’s sake!”
Malcolm spit out a mouthful of blood. “And Father—”
“Father?” Colin’s lip curled in disgust. “Always about Father, is it? His dirty dealings. His cruelty. His legacy. Well. If you’re so interested in his legacy… Here. Here is what Augustus Redthorne has left for his sons.” He pulled a syringe from his pocket and set it on the mantle over the fireplace, where it rocked back and forth, the red-orange liquid inside catching the light.
“What is it?” Dorian whispered, already afraid of the answer.
“That, brothers, is the cure,” Colin said darkly. “The miracle our father spent the better part of his immortal life creating. Distilled to its essence, slightly improved for quicker administration and effectiveness, but the cure nevertheless.”