Chapter 10
Dorian
I keep to the shadows, slipping past the harsh glare that spills from the streetlights onto the pavement at my feet. Heavy rain clouds smother the sky as I prowl toward Edie’s home. It’s past midnight, and I should be at the club, but her silence is unravelling my patience.
I’m not used to being ignored.
I’m not used to my compulsion having no effect.
And I’m sure as hell not used to this relentless craving for Edie’s blood.
I can still taste her essence now, despite having drunk from several willing donors since that night in my car. Their blood, whilst giving me sustenance, is bland compared to hers.
And, fuck, I want more.
If I believed I could bend her memories to my will, I’d have no hesitation indulging.
I’d drink from her, knowing the sting of my bite would fade and my pleasure-laced saliva would send waves of rapture through her veins, leaving her breathless beneath my touch.
We’d fuck without restraint, and I’d take and give in equal measure, leaving us both satiated.
But Edie is an Aegis and my will slides off her like water on glass. I’ve tried, again and again, to find a crack, a sliver to slip through, only to come up against an impenetrable shield. That truth unsettles me more than sunlight ever could, but it does nothing to dull my hunger.
Over the years, I have learned to manage my unquenchable need for blood.
I’ve shackled the monster inside of me, satiating its hunger with discipline and a determination not to let it rule me.
Yet, the last time we were together, I almost lost control.
That should’ve been enough of a warning to walk away from her for good.
But I have to admit, her vulnerability, her confusion, and her disappointment cut me deeply.
Her very human reaction stirred something inside of me I’ve long since thought I’d buried, and instead of cutting all ties, I’ve spent every night since stalking her.
Tonight, that discipline I’ve worked so hard to maintain is being tested once again. Every instinct urges me to enter her home, pin her to the bed, and pierce her flesh.
But I know if I drink from Edie, there will be no lie to hide behind.
I can’t glamour her memory. She’ll know what I am, and she’ll recoil.
Worse still, her knowledge of my existence, and that of my clan, could be our undoing.
We’ve survived for centuries because of the rules I’ve enforced.
To break them would mean eternal death. My clan members know that, as do I.
Yet, here I am willing to break every single one of those rules just for the pleasure of her company.
The sound of Edie singing spills out of the open window of her kitchen as I approach, her voice a siren’s call that makes my fangs lower to deadly points.
When I drew out her orgasm last week, her invitation to enter her home was given in lust without her knowing the consequences of such an invitation.
All that’s standing between me stepping into her home and claiming what’s mine is my fragile restraint.
Darkness crawls inside my chest as I lean against the trunk of an oak tree. I consider surrendering to this feeling, entering Edie’s home and taking what I want, but if I do, I’ll have no choice but to change her, to make her one of us.
The other option is unspeakable, and I will not end her life. I will not repeat past mistakes.
Yet, I can’t walk away either. It may have been foolish to invite her to my home, but the thought of not seeing her again is a pain far worse than anything I’ve felt before.
I will overcome the bloodlust.
I will overcome my attraction to Edie. Eventually.
That doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy her in the meantime.
We will become lovers. I will give her more pleasure than she has ever experienced in her life.
I will teach her what her body is capable of, and once the flame she’s ignited within me sputters and dies, our brief affair will end. She will move on, as will I.
Curling my fingers into fists, I push off from the tree only to walk directly into a man out walking his dog.
“Good evening,” he says, nodding briefly before sidestepping me.
Before I can even consider the consequences of my actions, I’ve grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and slammed him into the oak tree. His dog barks, and I bare my teeth at it. “Quiet!”
It whimpers, but doesn’t make another sound.
The man however, he does.
“Get your hands off me,” he shouts, and I press my chest against his back, coasting my lips over his ears.
“Do not speak another word. Do not move. Do as I say, and you’ll survive.”
He instantly quietens, his body relaxing in my hold as I drag the collar of his jacket to one side, then bury my fangs into his neck. His blood hits my tongue, thick and warm, and I drink from him without remorse.
I’m fully aware I’ve just broken one of my own rules. Feeding is not allowed outside the protection of Avant Garde, but it was either feeding from this man or Edie. I chose the less complicated option.
Moaning, his hips undulate against the tree, my saliva coiling in his blood and heightening this moment with sexual pleasure. I’ve drank from both sexes, and their reaction is always the same, the loss of blood paling in comparison to the feeling of exquisite rapture.
I take just enough blood from him to dampen my hunger, then I withdraw my fangs, piercing the pad of my finger. A droplet of blood seeps from my skin, and I swipe it over the puncture wounds, watching them seal up. Releasing him, I step back, and he turns to face me.
“W-what just happened?” he asks, eyes wide with confusion, his skin pale.
“You will forget everything. You will forget this interaction, but you will go home and drink something sweet.” With that, I pet his dog, then stride towards my car parked at the end of the street.
By the time I get back to the club, I’m calm.
That calmness lasts all of ten minutes before Logan enters my office.
“We have a problem,” Logan says, the sound of Sybil’s sensual voice as she sings filtering through the open door.
Stubbing out my cigarette into the crystal ashtray on my desk, I lift my gaze to meet his through the haze of smoke. “And that problem is?”
“Two men are causing a scene trying to get into the club,” he replies, his voice cold, dangerous.
“So? Let the doormen deal with them. It’s their job.”
He flexes his fingers, a tremor running through his body. “I think you and I should manage this one.”
I snap my gaze to his. “Why?”
“It’s those predators,” he responds, a sneer darkening his features.
Whilst there are many men who could be described in such a manner, I know exactly who he’s talking about. With a sharp nod of my head, I flick my gaze to the wall of monitors.
“Suite ten is empty. Escort them there. Ask Phernella to keep them occupied whilst you stand guard,” I command, barely contained violence thrumming in my veins. “I will join you shortly.”
“Of course,” Logan hesitates, his piercing gaze meeting mine. I know what he wants without him needing to ask. “Yes, he’s yours. But that cunt who laid his hand on Edie, he’s mine.”
By the time I make my way to suite ten, the violence that’s been simmering inside of me ever since that pathetic sack of flesh hurt Edie is thrashing with need.
I had every intention of dealing with these bastards eventually, especially after what Logan dug up about them both, but as they’ve graced us with their presence tonight, now is the perfect opportunity to unleash my wrath.
Standing sentry outside the suite is Logan, a cruel smile spreading across his face as I approach.
“Are they suitably entertained?” I ask, handing him the machete I brought from my office.
He nods, taking it from me. “Phernella has done an excellent job at distracting them.”
“Good.”
“Shall we?” Logan asks, pushing open the door.
I step into the suite, Logan following me.
Both men are too enraptured by Phernella’s performance to even notice our entry, their eyes fixed on her exquisite form.
She is one of our most experienced performers, her long raven hair, deep green eyes and plush lips alluring.
Tonight she is wearing a see-through red slip, every dip and curve of her perfect hourglass figure a captivating picture of beauty.
For a moment we stand in the shadows, the dimly lit room designed to draw the patrons’ attention to their performer for the evening.
Phernella dances in a focussed spot of blood-red light, her hip-length hair swaying around her seductively.
Both of their mouths are slack as they watch her, their base animal instincts subdued to a controllable level.
Her compulsion is powerful, made more so by her innate sensuality.
“You may leave, Phernella,” I say. She cuts me a look, a knowing glint in her eyes as she dips her head in acknowledgement. “Take the rest of the evening off. You have my permission to satiate your desires. There are plenty of patrons to choose from tonight. Just remember the rules, yes?”
“Thank you, Dorian,” she replies, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she strides from the room.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Mark, the man who gripped Henrietta’s arm, exclaims.
John blinks up at me, shock slowly registering on his face as I step into the muted light. His body tenses as Mark shifts in his seat next to him, Phernalla’s compulsion wearing off.
Yes, fuckers, we’ve met before.
“Wait—” John begins, his instincts kicking in as he senses our savagery.
“This is my club, and you are not fucking welcome,” I snap, cutting the prick off as I remove my jacket and place it over the chaise lounge situated to my left. Then I unfasten my cufflinks, tucking them into my pocket as I roll up my sleeves with slow, deliberate movements.
“Your club?” Mark replies.
It’s almost comical watching him try to catch up with the imminent threat, though a flicker of arrogance remains. It’s going to be very enjoyable watching Logan squash that once and for all.
“That’s right…” I let my voice trail off as I pin him with my glare.
“We didn’t realise. We’ll go,” John simpers.
“Stay right the fuck where you are,” I snap, my command pinning the bastard to his seat.
“We’ll pay you whatever is owed for the performance,” he offers, flicking his gaze to the machete gripped in Logan’s hand. “There’s no need for violence.”
“I thought violence was exactly what you enjoy. Oh, wait, violence against women and children is more your wheelhouse, right?” I sneer.
John flinches.
“We paid our dues,” Mark has the stupidity to say.
Logan bares his teeth, a deep rumble rising up his chest as he moves behind the fucker, grasps his hair, and yanks his head back with a vicious tug.
He lowers his mouth to Mark’s ear, and says, “A few years in jail is not nearly enough punishment for what you’ve done.
” Then he grasps Mark’s arm, and slices off his hand in one quick movement. “That’s for daring to touch Henrietta.”
Mark roars in pain, blood spurting from his radial artery, his fingers slipping through the bloody stump as he futilely tries to stem the flow. The acrid stench of urine lifts into the air as he pisses himself.
“Jesus-fucking-christ.” John’s eyes widen comically as he holds up a shaking hand in an attempt to appease me. “L-listen, we d-did w-wrong. We’re n-ot those men anymore.”
I step closer, my presence making him shrink further into his seat as I barely restrain my fury. “You attempted to drug my woman. So tell me again you’re not that man anymore.”
“I didn’t… I wasn’t going to do anything…”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” I command, and his mouth slams shut as though sewn together with invisible thread. I see the panic flare in his eyes as I lift my foot, pressing it into his crotch. “Lie to me again, and I will crush your limp dick until it’s nothing more than a pulpy mess.”
“It was his idea,” Mark groans, his final words a pathetic attempt to save his own skin.
Logan immediately grips his throat, crushing his windpipe in one powerful motion. A wet, strangled sound releases from Mark’s lips as the blood vessels in his eyes pop, turning the white, crimson.
“Remind me of your names,” I command, removing my foot as Logan releases Mark’s throat.
He immediately gasps for air, but it’s no use. His lips are already turning blue. Death is almost upon him.
“I’m J-John and this is M-Mark,” John replies. “W-why?”
Logan grinds his teeth, his gaze snapping to me as he waits impatiently for me to act.
“Because John, Mark,” I say, my voice cold as the true face of the monster within me rises to the surface, and my fangs descend. “This is the last time you’ll ever hear your names.”
Then I lunge for the bastard, ripping his throat with my teeth, his blood spattering across the walls.