Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,1
from the case. Aiden took a swig, then emptied the last of it onto the pile, chucking the bottle in too. They poured out a few more bottles, then Dorian struck a match and touched it to the box. The moment it caught, he chucked the whole thing into the pile. The fire ignited at once—a rapturous blaze that seared his skin and soared up to the heavens.
They stood in silence for a long moment, watching the flames consume and devour, blackening the stonework at the center of the rose garden. The fractured bits of wood turned dark, the painted canvases curling in the heat. The fire surged, and one by one, the rose bushes ignited, glowing silver-white before turning to black ash.
There was something deeply satisfying about watching fire consume its kindling. Something pure and beautiful about the way it transformed light to dark, cold to heat, creation to destruction.
As the fire roared into the sky, Aiden peered into the empty husk formerly known as the Ravenswood dining room and sighed. “Nothing but pure potential now, is it?”
“I should’ve done it decades ago.”
“Yes, and now that you have…” Aiden looked back to Dorian, his eyes darkening with a concern that quickly worked its way into Dorian’s heart. “What’s this really about? I’m guessing it’s not just a new look you’re after.”
“What do you think it’s about?” Dorian raked a bloody hand through his hair. “Sasha’s been kidnapped. Charlotte’s uncle is a demon—one who nearly killed her last night. Not to mention there’s an army of grays on the loose. Have you already forgotten?”
“How could I? Did you see the way I impaled that poor bastard with a pole?” Aiden laughed. “History in the making, my friend. They’ll probably write a song about me. A ballad with—”
“For fuck’s sake, Aiden! How can you be so… so bloody you right now?”
“As opposed to what, Dori? Falling apart? Shall I find something else to torch, then? Massacre some poor, defenseless furniture?” He chucked an errant floorboard into the fire, an unfamiliar anger rising in his eyes. “Sasha is my friend. Forgive me for attempting to pull you off your mind-numbingly predictable path of self-destruction, but if you think my cracking a few jokes means I don’t care about what’s happening, then you don’t know me at all, your highness.”
The words cut deep, and Dorian shrunk before them, guilt gnawing through his chest.
“I didn’t mean… I appreciate your… I’m…” Dorian closed his eyes, unable to find the words. The fire flickered and danced, throwing cruel shadows across his eyelids.
They reminded him of demons.
Of hell.
In a dark, defeated whisper he barely recognized as his own, Dorian said finally, “Charlotte’s hellbound, Aiden. Isabelle found some sort of demonic claim on her soul.”
The admission stabbed a fresh hole into his heart, and he opened his eyes to relay the witch’s assessment, every word burning through him like the blazing fire.
She’s demon-touched…
A dark shadow…
Promised to a demon lord…
“But that’s…” Aiden’s mouth widened in shock, abject horror dousing the anger in his eyes. “No. I refuse to accept it.”
“As do I, but refusal doesn’t change the fact that soon—very soon, according to Isabelle—the woman I love will be…” Dorian’s voice broke, and he turned away, unable to face his oldest friend.
A hush fell between them, broken only by the crackle of the flames and a lone mourning dove cooing in the distance.
It was a long moment before Aiden spoke again, and when he did, his voice had softened considerably. “There’s another way, Dori. There’s always another way.”
“And if I had an eternity to find it, I’m certain I could. But I don’t have an eternity, Aiden. I’m not even sure I’ve got a week.”
“Have you told Charlotte about this?”
“I… I need more information.”
“She has a right to know.”
“Yes, and exercising that right means unleashing a thousand desperate questions I can’t even begin to answer.” Dorian sighed. He was wasting time—time he desperately needed if he had any hopes of breaking that demon bind. “I’m sorry, Aiden. I need to go.”
He turned away from the flames and took a step toward the manor, but Aiden stepped in front of him, a deadly warning flashing in his eyes.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Aiden said, “it’s a rotten idea.”
“You’ve no idea what I’m thinking.”
“You’ve got the look. You’re about to do something reckless and impulsive that will either get you killed or—”
“No one ever won a war by staying home.”
“No one ever won a war by himself, either.” Aiden grumbled something beneath his