Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,9
“Torturing demons is definitely a two-man job. Mind if I give it a go?”
“By all means.” Gabriel passed him the blowtorch, the mirth in his tone a stark contrast to the ice in his gaze.
Not since childhood had Dorian felt so connected to his little brother. As much as Dorian had judged him—despised him, even—he was certain if he looked in the mirror now, he’d find the same frigid determination in his eyes, the same cold cruelty that had earned Gabriel such a merciless reputation in Las Vegas.
Perhaps it should’ve bothered him—how close he felt to his own darkness. His own savagery.
Instead, it only fueled him.
He grabbed the demon by the throat and brought the flame to his eye, melting it in an instant.
“Stop! Stop!” Jordan bellowed, piss soaking through what was left of his torched pants. “I’ll tell you anything! I swear it!”
“That’s what you said fifteen minutes ago,” Dorian reminded him, unrelenting in his torment. The skin around the demon’s eye socket blistered and blackened, smoke wafting up from the wound. Fat, juicy tears leaked from his remaining eye.
“I mean it this time!” he cried. “Just… God, please stop! Please!”
Dorian finally backed off. “God? You’re a demon, for fuck’s sake. Show some self-respect.”
The demon turned his head and spit out a mouthful of blood, but offered no witty comeback, no threats, no curses.
Demons could withstand unfathomable amounts of pain, but now, he was utterly broken.
Perfect.
“What does Rogozin want with Duchanes vampires?” Dorian asked, handing the blowtorch back to Gabriel.
“I… I don’t know,” he panted.
“So you and your friends haven’t been cavorting at Bloodbath—a known Duchanes establishment?”
“Point of clarification, brother,” Gabriel said, “Bloodbath is a former Duchanes establishment. Your friend at the NYPD made certain of that.”
“Very true, Gabriel. Thank you.”
“Do I look like the club-hopping type? Fuck.” Jordan slid partway off the chair, his ruined eye still smoldering, his legs trembling. “All I do is work. If I’m not here working on the cars, I’m running my ass all over Queens like a fucking errand boy.”
“What sort of errands?”
“Drop-offs, pickups—shit like that.”
“Dorian!” Gabriel gasped and pressed a hand to his chest, his voice laden with mock concern. “I believe he’s referring to… to drug trafficking!”
“Rogozin has lots of different businesses,” Jordan said. “I don’t ask questions. I just do what I’m told.”
“Were you doing what you were told when you kidnapped a teenaged girl?” Dorian asked.
“What? Look, I’m not saying I’m the most upstanding citizen, but kidnapping a girl? No. No fucking way.”
“Right. Because you have so much respect for women?”
“Look, that bitch you saw in there? She had it coming. Her brother tried to welsh on his deal, and—”
“Now that was definitely the wrong thing to say.” Dorian grabbed the torch and scored a fresh gash across the demon’s chest, carving his flesh open from one shoulder to the other. “Women are not property to be bartered in deals.”
“Fuck! Fuck! I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Fuck, man, I’ve never been more sorry in my life. I swear.”
Dorian returned the blowtorch to Gabriel. “You’re doing a lot of swearing today, Jordan, but not a lot of sharing. So tell me—what is Rogozin’s relationship to House Duchanes?”
The demon remained silent.
Dorian glanced at Gabriel, who took a step closer with the torch.
“Come on!” Jordan cried. He was fading now, his breathing becoming more erratic. He’d lost a lot of blood already, and the pain alone was likely enough to drive his human vessel into unconsciousness, even if the demon himself could withstand the agony.
He was still lucid, but Dorian knew they didn’t have much time.
“Duchanes,” Dorian said again.
“Look, Rogozin doesn’t waste his time with vampire bullshit,” the demon said. “Duchanes? Yeah, I seen him around, but he’s not part of the crew.”
“You’re certain? Certain your boss isn’t working with Duchanes vampires to break a few more demons out of hell? Build an army, perhaps?”
“I told you—Rogozin doesn’t give a fuck about vampires. Doesn’t give a fuck about bringing in more demons either. Our numbers are rock-solid.”
Dorian smacked him twice on the ruined cheek. “Slightly less solid after today, perhaps.”
“You don’t get it. If Rogozin wanted an army, he’d fucking build one. Meat-suits are a dime a dozen in this city—everyone’s looking to make a deal.”
“If he doesn’t want more demons, then what is he after?”
“Same as every other supernatural in this city.”
“Fae pussy?” Gabriel blurted out.
Dorian rolled his eyes. “Must you always be so uncouth, brother? Honestly.”
Jordan spit out another mouthful of blood. “Rogozin wants territory.”