Chapter 16
Dorian
I shift in my chair, sending a ribbon of blue-grey smoke spiralling toward the ceiling while my gaze flicks between the glowing monitors and the open laptop on my desk.
Even though it is only mid-week, the club pulses with energy tonight.
Nearly every room downstairs is filled with patrons and my clan members putting on their private shows.
Beyond my office, the music throbs in time with Sybil’s act, her sultry voice winding through the air.
None of it calms the storm inside me.
This club used to be my sanctuary. Now it feels like a cage, a prison I cannot escape.
I’m hemmed in by these walls, every thought circling back to Edie, devouring me from the inside out.
For three endless, agonising weeks, I have tried and failed to banish all thoughts of Edie.
I’ve swung between the need to hunt her down and feed from her, and the desperate need to lose myself in her completely, to fuck her until we’re both boneless.
But I know sex won’t satiate me. I’ll want more of everything.
I’ll want more of her laughter, her smiles, her gentle touch.
I’ll want all her secrets, her pain, her hopes and dreams. I’ll want her sass and dominance, her submission and vulnerability.
I know now I can’t just fuck her out of my system like I’d told myself I would. I can’t drink from her without revealing what I am and risk the safety of our clan, and I sure as fuck won’t change her, nor will I end her life.
But I can’t let her go either.
And it’s fucking with my head.
Every night since she showed up at the hotel, my restlessness has dragged me to her home, where I’ve watched her from the shadows.
I’ve gorged myself on blood in order to suppress the urge to feed from her.
I’ve fisted my cock and made myself come so I don’t break down her door and bury myself inside of her.
I’ve lied to Logan and Viktor about where I’ve been going every night.
I’ve kept Sybil distracted with plans about opening another club. I’ve done it all to protect Edie.
“Fuck,” I exclaim, reaching for my phone for the hundredth time this evening.
As I swipe at the screen, searching for her number.
I don’t think about the fact I shouldn’t want her this much.
I don’t think about how fucking irresponsible it is to reach out to her, and I sure as fuck don’t think about that feeling of warmth I’d experienced towards her at the Unlit Lounge, and the pain that followed it.
I just know I need to see her again, no matter the cost. With my thumb poised over the screen, I hesitate.
If I call her, she’ll refuse to answer. So I type out a message instead, hoping she will read it and not block me.
We need to talk.
I hit send before doubt can creep in, then wait. Moments later, three dots appear, pulsing as she types. I draw in another lungful of smoke.
What do you want?
Tension rolls through me. Crushing my cigarette in the ashtray, I type out a reply.
You.
Absolutely not. In fact, delete this number from your phone.
I’m not going to do that, Edie.
The bubbles float on screen, pausing then starting up again. Maybe she’s crafting a scathing reply, or just searching for the right words. I send another message before she can answer.
I will abide by your rules. Let me prove to you I can.
Minutes crawl past, and just as I’m about to grab my keys with every intention of driving to her home, her reply finally arrives.
How will you prove it to me?
My eyes flick to the wall of monitors, lingering on suite twenty, empty and waiting. Before doubt can stop me, I respond.
Video call me. I need to see your face.
Moments later, my phone beeps with an incoming call.
I lean back in my chair, some of my restlessness easing as Edie fills the screen.
Her hair is twisted into a messy bun, her beautiful face bare.
I can’t help but stare, mesmerised by the sweep of skin where her jumper slips from her shoulder, her jugular vein throbbing beneath its surface.
“I thought I told you to delete my number?” she says, her voice clipped, guarded.
“If you didn’t want to speak with me, why did you do as I asked?”
“Just get to the point, Dorian.”
“I’m sending a car to pick you up,” I say.
She folds her arms across her chest. “And where, exactly, is it that you think I’m going?”
“To my club.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Absolutely not.”
“And here I was thinking you wanted to explore your desires. Were you lying to me, Edie?”
“After what happened at the hotel, I very much thought this was over.”
My fingers curl around the phone so tightly that the case cracks. “It’s over when I say it’s over.”
“You’re not making the rules here,” she bites out, her eyes glinting with anger. “You don’t own me, remember?”
I relax my grip. “You’re right, I just want to see you, Edie. I’ve missed you.”
She frowns, her eyes darting away. She’s fighting to keep her thoughts tucked behind a careful mask, but I see through it. She misses me, too. It’s written in the softness of her gaze when she finally meets my eyes again.
“It’s been three weeks, Dorian.”
“You ran. I was giving you space. Should I have chased you?”
Her cheeks flood with heat. “I don’t know.”
“Edie, listen. All I care about is making you feel good.” Edie starts to protest, but I cut her off. “I want to worship you. Please, come.” My lips curl around the word in such a way that I hope she understands my intentions clearly.
“And what makes you think I have any intention of seeing you again?”
“Edie, you can’t fool me. You want what I want.”
“And what is that exactly?”
“To give each other pleasure. Nothing more.”
“That’s not what it felt like at the hotel,” she accuses. “The way you looked at me. It was intense. Overwhelming, Dorian. It was as though you wanted more from me, more than just sex.”
“You misinterpreted what was happening,” I lie.
“I know what I felt,” she argues, drilling me with her gaze, anger sparking in her eyes once again.
“If I overstepped the boundaries you placed between us, then I apologise. It won’t happen again,” I say forcefully, intent on regaining her trust. “We will keep this strictly about sex. I want you.”
“Why do you want me?”
“Because you’re smart. You’re not afraid to speak your mind. You’re beautiful, Edie, sexy as fuck, and if you want to know the honest truth, you have all the power here. Whatever happens next, it’s your decision.”
She swallows, shifting in her seat. “This is strictly about pleasure.”
“Nothing more,” I confirm, that restlessness to have her by my side unravelling once again.
“You understand I can’t give you anything else.”
I nod. “I understand completely.”
She pauses, and for a moment I think she’ll turn me down, but instead she says, “I’ve never been to a sex club before. I don’t know what to expect.”
Relief unravels the knots in my shoulders, and I seize the chance to reassure her. “I will never put you in a position where you feel uncomfortable, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not an exhibitionist, despite what happened in the restaurant, and the car that night...” Her voice fades, cheeks colouring a deeper pink. If this weren’t such a delicate moment, I might press her, because I suspect she enjoys the thrill that comes with the possibility of being caught.
“And I don’t share, that means the only person who gets to indulge in you is me.”
She chews on her lip, then nods. “And if I come to your club, what’s going to happen?”
“Whatever you want. There are no rules, other than the ones we choose to agree to.”
She reaches for something off-screen, then settles back in view, taking a sip from her glass of wine. “Will Sybil be there?”
“You don’t need to worry about Sybil.”
“Will she be there?” she insists.
I nod, easing back in my seat, ignoring the little voice in my head that tells me I’m courting disaster. “Yes, but she’s performing tonight.”
“If I decide I’m uncomfortable in any way, will you respect my decision to leave?” she asks.
“Of course.”
After a beat, she nods. “I’m trusting your word, Dorian. Don’t you dare disappoint me.”
“So we’re in agreement then? You’ll come to my club?”
She pauses, and I hold my breath waiting. “How long do I have?”
“Logan will be with you in half an hour.”
Propped against the bar on the club’s main floor, I watch the patrons sway to the hypnotic rhythm played by our resident DJ, filling the lull before Sybil takes to the stage again.
The air is thick with sweat and desire. Couples are tangled together, kissing and grinding against each other, stoking the restless hunger in my blood.
Performers dance on podiums dotted around the space, their swaying bodies barely concealed by strips of well-placed material.
Candles flicker on the tables in the private booths surrounding the dance floor, whilst a soft red glow bathes everyone in a seductive, blood-tinged haze.
Usually, this nightly spectacle barely registers for me.
But tonight, every nerve is raw, strung tight with anticipation for Edie’s arrival.
“Another?” the barman, Emmanuel, asks.
I slide my empty glass across the bar. I’ve already drunk a bottle of blood whilst waiting and my hunger is, thankfully, satiated, though not satisfied given it tasted like fucking dishwater. “No, but tell Viktor to take a bottle of Merlot to suite twenty. I have a guest arriving soon.”
He nods and strides over to Viktor, who is hovering at the end of the bar.
I watch them converse before Viktor takes the bottle from Emmanuel and pushes through the crowd towards me.
All of the women he passes, and a few of the men, track his every step, his allure as powerful as my own.
None of them approach. Our compulsion is so powerful that whispered words to stay away, unless invited, are obeyed.
“You’re entertaining tonight?” he asks without preamble.
“Yes, and it’s important you keep Sybil busy once she finishes her next performance.”