Chapter 19
Dorian
“This is a bad idea,” I mutter, standing in the shadows on the balcony outside Edie’s bedroom, the night sky both a comfort and a curse.
I’ve spent another week trying to claw back the cold, emotionless control I’m so renowned for.
I’ve fed the monster within me. I’ve given it the blood it craves in an attempt to cut off any human emotion that rises at the thought of Edie, but it hasn’t been enough to smother the warmth I feel for her.
A warmth that weakens me, that hurts.
My tattoos shift restlessly beneath my skin, serving as a reminder, a warning.
“Fuck,” I groan, my gaze slipping to her sleeping form as silvery moonlight falls across her face, making her appear otherworldly. Her hair is spread out in messy waves against her pillow, her plump lips slightly parted as her chest rises and falls in gentle, even breaths.
I’ve never been more drawn to someone than I have Edie. She’s stunningly beautiful, infuriatingly sexy, but more than that, she’s completely unaware of her own allure that has nothing to do with how she looks and everything to do with who she is; a woman capable of bringing a man like me to heel.
A task no one has ever achieved before.
And that, that is a huge fucking problem.
Being here is a mistake.
“Dorian.”
Her whimper is barely perceptible, but it’s enough to trap me where I stand. Every instinct screams at me to walk away.
I don’t.
I can’t.
Releasing the railing, I take an unsteady step towards her window, my palm pressing against the cool glass.
She stirs in her sleep; her cover slipping lower, revealing the curve of her bare breast, her pink nipple begging to be sucked.
I’m itching to touch her. To run my fingers over her flesh, to taste her skin, to breathe in her scent that filters through the gap in her window, stirring my senses and fucking with my desire to remain in control.
“Are you dreaming of me, Edie? Do I haunt you as much as you haunt me?” I whisper, my breath misting up the window.
“Please,” she mutters, her eyes flickering beneath her closed lids as she dreams. “Please, Dorian...”
She doesn’t know what she’s begging for.
She has no idea what I am.
“Leave. Now.” I say, forcing myself to take a step back, but when Edie shifts beneath her cover, her hand sliding between her legs, all rational thought leaves my mind as my whole body quakes with an uncontrollable need to be close to her once again.
Without giving it another thought, I slide my fingers between the gap in her window and open it.
Silently, I creep into her bedroom, her heady perfume an aphrodisiac that makes me sway drunkenly.
Beneath the top notes of sunshine warming a salt-scented shore is the decadent, musky scent of her arousal as she touches herself, moaning, yet still deeply asleep.
In less than two beats, I’m standing at the foot of her bed, her cover gripped in my hand as I slowly drag it from her body.
Bare before me, I vibrate with an intense need so powerful it’s like a punch to my gut.
I groan, instantly regretting it as her eyelids flicker.
For a moment I think she’s going to awaken, but another soft breath eases from her lips and her muscles relax as she’s pulled back into a deep sleep.
My gaze tracks her sleeping form, and a glint of silver catches my eye. Resting beside her hip is the dildo I’d gifted Edie. I lean over her sleeping form, sweeping it up in my hand and lifting it to my nose.
“Fuck,” I whisper, the scent of her pussy making my fangs drop.
There’s no doubt she’s been fucking herself with it, and despite everything that happened at the club, that foolishly gives me hope.
Tentatively, and with more care than I’ve ever displayed, I rest my fingertips on her bare ankle, allowing her skin to warm my hand, needing that brief touch to ground myself.
Edie widens her legs, her fingers slipping between her folds as she circles her clit and bares her pussy to me.
The slash of glistening pink has my cock throbbing painfully.
“Dorian,” she moans, her mouth parting as her eyes flicker beneath her closed lids.
“I’m here,” I whisper, a trail of goosebumps spreading across every inch of her skin as I traverse the bed and drop to my knees beside her. Beneath her ribcage her heart beats slow and steady, a reminder she’s everything I’ll never be.
I watch, enraptured, as her pretty pink nipples tighten with every circle of her finger against her clit.
“Ahhhhh,” she moans, her clit swelling beneath her fingers, revealing itself beneath the fleshy hood. I desperately want to flick my tongue over it, to suck the hardened nub into my mouth and scrape my teeth against the bundle of nerves until she awakens, writhing beneath me, begging for more.
But I won’t.
She hasn’t given me her express permission, and I refuse to be like those men who tried to hurt her and Henrietta.
Instead, my gaze focuses on her fingers swirling over her clit.
She whimpers in her sleep, and I gently slip the dildo beneath her hand, hoping somewhere in her subconscious mind she’ll recognise what it is and use it.
Drifting somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, Edie’s fingers wrap around the dildo as she slides the long edge between her folds. A gasp parts her lips, her stomach muscles contracting as her subconscious mind tries to make sense of the sensations wracking her body.
“I… want… to… come…” she moans, each word a breathy demand that has me enraptured.
Dropping my head as though in prayer, something shifts within me.
I am no longer Dorian Crow, ruler of the most decadent, sensual club in the city.
I am a monster stripped bare. I am a man who lost his soul a long time ago, yet I feel the same flicker of warmth that I’d experienced at the club gathering strength within me now.
Feelings, once again, rise to the surface and my tattoos tighten, the vines squeezing, the barbs sinking into flesh and muscle.
A groan is ripped from my lips as I fight against the pain, the warmth, against feeling.
End this. Take her.
My fangs drop, the urge to bite her overwhelming.
Planting my hands on either side of her head, I lean over and scrape my teeth over her pulse, the darkness within urging me to give in to its baser desires.
It wants to stifle that warmth, to exert its dominance, to disavow these feelings setting root inside of me.
The monster within me hungers for her, a wild, feral beast desperate to drink her blood.
Acutely aware of her every breath, every pound of her heart, and the delicate thrum of her pulse, her pleasure becomes mine, her desire heightens my own, and I can’t fucking stop myself from gently nicking her skin just enough to draw out a tiny bead of blood.
I lift my head slightly, watching it slide down her neck.
She’s a temptation I must resist.
She’s the cause of my physical pain.
She’ll be my undoing.
Even knowing all of that, I give in to the lure of her blood, the tip of my tongue gliding over her skin.
Her essence explodes in my mouth, and I shudder from its purity, from the incomparable taste.
Even though I want to sink my fangs into her neck, to gorge myself on her, I somehow find the strength to resist.
“Please, Edie. Come,” I whisper against her ear.
Her responding whimpers become more urgent, her breath uneven as she brings herself to the pinnacle of an orgasm. I press open-mouthed kisses against her pulse, my tongue tasting the tiny beads of sweat that glisten there.
“Come for me, Edie. Please, come,” I beg once again, my restraint slipping.
A whine releases from her lips, her body stiffening with pleasure as her thighs trap the dildo between her legs.
She comes with a soft cry, and I release a stuttered breath as her body softens and her muscles relax.
Pressing one last kiss against her throat, I stand, and pull the cover back over her sleeping form.
Seconds pass, and I step back into the shadows.
“Sleep well,” I say, before climbing out of the window and disappearing into the night.
“You’re on edge,” Viktor observes, his statement as irritating as a paper cut.
“I’m hungry,” I snap, rolling my neck until it pops.
“Then it’s just as well dinner’s served.
” Logan smirks, striding into our living room, two women in tow.
They both reek of lust and sweat, their lithe bodies barely covered by short skirts and crop tops.
Both of them have the same glazed look when glamoured.
There’s no fear, just vacant expressions and empty smiles pulling up their lips.
“You brought them from the club?” I ask. The doors shut half an hour ago, and dawn is still two hours off, but I’m not ready to be left alone with my thoughts. All they do is wander to Edie, and the wreckage I’ve made of everything.
“They’ve not been fed on tonight, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“I’m not concerned,” I say, eying the pair. Beneath their skin, their blood pulses. My fangs drop, and my darkness surges to life.
“Do you have a preference?” Logan asks, his fangs lengthening as the women stand in the centre of the room. One is a petite blonde. The other is taller, curvy, her hair dyed an unnatural blue.
“No.”
“Very well. I’ll take this one.” Logan moves towards the blonde, sweeping her hair aside before he wraps an arm around her waist and buries his fangs into her neck. I’m not surprised by his choice. Lately, all he’s been feeding from are women who resemble Henrietta.
“I’ll take my leave,” Viktor says, pushing to his feet.
“You’re not hungry?” I question.
“I’ve already slaked my thirst,” he replies, lifting the empty glass he’s holding before placing it on the side table beside him. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m going to rest.”
“Wait,” I say, stepping towards him and guiding him to the corner of the room. “I want to ask you something.”