“Not now, Aiden.” Dorian turned back to Charlotte. “If you’ll let me explain, I’ll—”
“You’llwhat? Spoon-feed me more lies? Erase my memories?”
“Charlotte—”
“Get back, or I’ll shove this thing through your heart!” She tightened her grip on the fire poker, tears spilling down her cheeks. “How long have you been messing with my mind? From the very start? Did you… Oh, fuckme. Ofcourse.”
Her eyes filled with a pain so sharp and all-encompassing, Dorian felt it echo through his own heart.
In that moment, he knew exactly where her mind had gone.
“Trouble in paradise, brother?” Gabriel taunted.
Dorian whirled around to face him. “Leave us. Now.”
“As you wish,highness.” Gabriel swiped a bottle from the bar. Then, pointing at Charlotte as if she were a pest in need of exterminating, “Take care of that, or I will.”
He left without another word, Malcolm trailing after him, shaking his head as if he were judge and jury in all things Redthorne. Aiden offered a sympathetic smile, then followed them out, leaving Dorian and Charlotte to work through their monumental differences alone.
“Tell me one thing, Dorian,” she said. Some of her anger had faded, but she still gripped the fire poker. “And don’t lie to me.”
“You have my word.” Maybe his word didn’t mean much to her in that moment, but Dorian felt the need to offer it anyway.
She turned away from him, as if she couldn’t bear to look at him another second—couldn’t bear to see his face when she finally asked the question on her mind. “The times we were… together. Did you compel me to be with you?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” he said gently.
More than anything he wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms, to show her with his touch and his kiss when every last word had utterly failed. But he couldn’t—not now. She was too upset. Too angry.
“Really?” she snapped. “Because an hour ago, I thought I knew a lot of things. Primarily, that vampires were a myth. Yet here you are, tearing out people’s hearts, turning them into—”
“Notpeople, Charlotte.Vampires.” His composure crumpled, the reminder of how close she’d come to death unleashing a new fury inside him. “Duchanesvampires who would’ve doneunspeakablethings to you, bled you dry, and tossed your corpse in the river without so much as a backward glance had Gabriel and I not intervened.”
“Duchanes? As in, the same asshole from the auction? I saw him earlier.”
Dorian nodded solemnly. “The vampires that attacked you were members of House Duchanes.”
“HouseDuchanes? What does that even mean?”
“Essentially, a house is a vampire coven or family—usually one of considerable means.”
She took in the information, her brow furrowing. “That means you and Malcolm and everyone… You’re House Redthorne?”
“Precisely.”
“One of the vampires who attacked me… He said something about the Royal Redthornes. Are you guys…” She swallowed hard, shaking her head as if the word had gotten stuck inside. “Are you royalty?”
Dorian folded his arms over his chest, impatience flaring. “Yes, the Redthornes are the ruling vampire royal family. But that’s hardly the crucial—”
“You’re a prince, then?”
Silently he held her gaze, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he waited for her to figure it out.
“King?” Charley pressed a hand to her throat, her voice notching up a few octaves. “You’re a fuckingvampireking?”
Dorian closed his eyes, the reality of the situation descending upon him like a storm.
Charlotte had somehow broken his compulsion, shattering even his previously successful attempts. It was a nearly impossible feat for a human—one that had even eluded hunters trained for centuries to resist vampire magic.
