Dorian pitched the dark amulet into the fire, where it exploded in a burst of black and purple smoke.
Shaken and unsteady, Lawrence Deegan got to his feet, slowly backing away from the pile of ash before him. “Perhaps we should reconvene when things are—”
“We willreconvene, Mr. Deegan,” Dorian said, “when I decide you can be of use to me. Until then, all of you may carry on with your lavish parties and petty squabbling, conniving and drinking and scheming and fornicating to your heart’s content. But when you go to bed each night, I want you to close your eyes, remember this moment, and remind yourself who’sallowingyou to carry on. Because the minute you forget, the minute you let your guard down… Well. Perhaps your king will let his down as well. Do we understand one another now,friends?”
Dorian took the time to meet each and every gaze, waiting for their acknowledging nods.
Satisfied he’d made his point, he clasped his bloody hands together and grinned. “Excellent. Meeting adjourned.”
Almost at once, every vampire in that room rose to their feet, quickly making their way toward the exit.
The air was so thick with cowardice, Dorian nearly choked on it.
The last simpering imbecile had finally cleared out, leaving only Dorian, Aiden, Gabriel, and Malcolm. The cowardice in the air was immediately replaced with tension, crackling like a live wire.
Dorian stalked toward his pathetic excuse for a brother, looming so close to Malcom’s face he could count the man’s fucking eyelashes.
“What you’ve done is tantamount to treason,” he said, his voice dark and menacing. “I should kill you where you stand.”
Malcom glared at him in silent rebellion, anger and frustration warring in his eyes.
Dorian didn’t want to see anger and frustration.
He wanted to see regret. He wanted to seefear.
Without warning, he shoved his fist through Malcolm’s chest, surprising the hell out of them both.
Malcolm gasped, his eyes wide, his heart beating frantically in Dorian’s unrelenting grip. In his gaze, Dorian found no trace of anger. Only a sharp, debilitating fear that filled Dorian with a deep satisfaction.
Perhaps that should’ve concerned him.
But it didn’t. Not tonight.
“You’re so convinced I’ve got a soft heart, Mac, but let me tell you something.” Dorian squeezed harder, fingers digging into the wet muscle. One swift jerk, and he could end this. Endhim. “All hearts are the same on the inside. Remember that next time you’re thinking about undermining your king,prince.”
He held fast another minute, digging in deeper until Malcolm finally nodded, his eyes glazing with pain.
Dorian released the heart and yanked his hand out of Malcolm’s chest, and Malcolm pitched forward, staggering as he attempted to catch his breath, his wounds already closing.
The bastard might’ve uttered something after that—an apology, a curse, a threat—but Dorian would never know. He was beyond caring. He stalked out of that room, blood running down his hands—the gray’s, his brother’s, all of it was the same now—leaving a trail on the gleaming hardwood floors.
When Dorian passed by the large mirror in the foyer, the brief glimpse of his reflection sent twin bolts of pain and fear through his heart.
In that reflection, he saw a vampire full of ire and violence.
He saw a man full of hatred, capable of the worst kinds of cruelty.
He saw his father, Augustus Redthorne, smirking at him from the depths of hell.
He saw his own death.
“Fuck!” Dorian launched his fist through the glass, shattering it into a thousand deadly shards.
“That’s bad luck, Mr. Redthorne,” a voice hissed through the darkness.
Dorian spun around as a figure stepped out of the shadows, cloaked and hooded.
He blurred into the man’s space, gripping him by the throat. “What part ofmeeting adjourneddid you not understand, vampire?”
