Taking her face between his hands, he held her gaze and spoke softly, willing the compulsion to do its work. “You and I enjoyed a lovely, uneventful stroll through the park. We saw nothing out of the ordinary—just shared a few laughs and a lovely goodnight kiss.”
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to compel her to accept his invitation home, but that was a line he wouldn’t cross, no matter how desperately he wanted her in his bed.
The woman blinked rapidly, then finally nodded, the color returning to her cheeks, her breathing soft and even once again.
“Holy shit.” She gazed up at him, then at the street, confusion creasing the skin between her eyebrows. “What… what’s going on?”
“Are you all right?” Dorian didn’t have to feign the concern in his tone, though she’d never know his true reasons. “You nearly fainted.”
“What? I’ve never fainted in my life. I… Wait…” She pulled out of his embrace, then spun around, scanning the park behind them. “Those dickheads in the park… I thought… What the hell happened?”
Dorian bit back a curse. In his efforts to keep his mental meddling to a minimum, he hadn’t taken the compulsion far enough.
“What do you remember?” he asked cautiously.
“I’m not sure.” She pinched her forehead and let out a soft sigh. “We were kissing under the tree, and those guys came out of nowhere. One of them said something about payback? After that it’s… Everything’s kind of a blur. Did someone help us? I feel like… No, that can’t be right.”
He smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Just a couple of punks trying to score some quick cash. And you’re right—a jogger came by and helped chase them off.”
“Really? And I didn’t fight back?” She opened her purse, frantically digging through it. “Damn it. Where’s Beyoncé?”
“The situation unfolded rather quickly,” he said, closing his hands over hers. “You must’ve dropped it in the confusion.”
She bit her lip, likely trying to reconcile his version of events with her own. Despite his best efforts at a convincing tone, Dorian knew it sounded like bullshit, and he waited for her to make the obvious suggestion about calling the police and filing a report.
But she said nothing more about it, accepting his explanation with little more than a long, shaky exhale. “I guess I’m a little overwhelmed. Still processing, you know? That was fucking weird.”
Dorian nodded. He still hadn’t processed it himself. He’d been a mere heartbeat away from oblivion. He’d smelled the brimstone, felt the heat in his lungs. They were going to unleash hellfire, certainly killing him.
As for the woman…
A shudder wracked his body. Dorian didn’t even want to think about what they would’ve done to her in his absence.
Yesterday, the very idea of demons even setting foot in Manhattan would’ve been preposterous—the Accords prohibited it, and for decades, the creatures had obeyed, just as vampires avoided the demonic-held territories of Brooklyn and Queens. Violations could lead to war or widespread discovery—twin threats that, save for the occasional skirmish, had kept the supernatural communities in a peaceful state of suspension.
Yet tonight, Chernikov demons had not only set foot in vampire territory, but attempted to claim a human soul, unleashed an attack in front of another human, and damn near assassinated the Redthorne vampire king.
If war was what they were after, Dorian could deliver their dreams on a silver fucking platter.
“Oh, great,” the woman said suddenly. “Another ambush.”
He followed her gaze to a black SUV that had pulled up to the curb. From the backseat, a man emerged—late fifties, maybe, with thinning gray hair slicked back off a high forehead and a mediocre suit trying its damnedest to look expensive. He glared at the woman with such contempt, Dorian wanted to tear out his heart and feed his soul to the demons—a peace offering for his mortal enemies.
Instinctively, he reached for the woman’s hand, but she ignored his touch, folding her arms over her chest instead. Everything inside her tensed, her pulse racing with new urgency.
“Do you know him?” Dorian asked.
Through clenched teeth, she whispered her reply. “That’s my… boss.”
The man barely spared a glance for Dorian, his cold gaze fixated on the woman. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Charlotte. Where have you been?”
Charlotte. Dorian let the name rest on his tongue, melting like rich, dark chocolate. It suited her—a sweet sonnet tinged with a hint of spice.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” she replied. Disappointment and frustration warred for dominance in her tone, but she offered the man a smile anyway. “I decided to stretch my legs in the park.”
Her smile was nothing like the radiant looks she’d shared with Dorian, but that fact was little comfort; he may have earned her genuine expressions, but in the end, it seemed she’d still be going home with another man.
Now, that man opened the SUV’s back door. “Get in. We have things to discuss.”
“Just give me a sec,” she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. Then, turning to Dorian, she offered one last smile. The real one.
Dorian tried not to gloat.
In a soft, wistful tone, she said, “I have to go now.”
“You really don’t.”
“Thanks again for the company.”
“Charlotte,” he said, savoring the taste of it, the way her eyes softened when he said it. “This isn’t necessary. I can have my driver here in a matter of minutes. We’ll take you anywhere you’d like.”
As long as it’s not anywhere near this man and his ice-cold eyes.
“I appreciate the offer.” Charlotte lowered her gaze, cheeks blushing, and Dorian wanted to freeze the moment right there, to stop the inevitable goodbye poised on her lips.
But he could no more stop time than he could reverse it.
“Technically I’m still on the clock,” she continued. “I don’t have a choice.”
He wanted to kiss her. To memorize the feel of those soft, plump lips, to welcome the warmth of her sigh against his ear one more time. But with the other man standing so close, Charlotte’s discomfort was obvious.
“It was lovely to meet you,” Dorian said instead, cursing himself, cursing the demons, cursing the man in the SUV, cursing the very witch who’d created the first vampires eons ago.
For all the blood and fury, this was the true bane of an immortal life.
Regret, heavy and inescapable, destined to haunt him for eternity.
“Goodnight, Charlotte,” he said, resisting the urge to touch her face.
“Goodnight, Stranger.”
And then she was gone, climbing into the SUV without a backward glance.
Dorian took a deep breath, her scent lingering on his skin, despite the second dose of demon blood.
They may have said their goodnights, but it wasn’t a goodbye.
Not for him. Not by a long shot.
Dorian felt the burn of a dark gaze on his skin, and he glanced up to find the man watching him, a puzzled expression on his face. He schooled it quickly, rearranging his features into a mask of neutral disinterest.