“I don’t know which lord,” he continued, “nor how to find him, nor how many demon lords even exist. I don’t know who brought this cruel fate upon you. I don’t know how much longer we have until the demon attempts to collect on his claim. But I do know this, Charlotte… I willnotrest until I find a way to break this abominable curse.”
She turned away from him again, her breath shallow, her heartbeat as quick as a rabbit’s caught in a snare.
Rage boiled up from inside—at the demon, at hell, at whoever had made this promise.
Charlotte wasnotfor sale. Not for trade. That such a bright, vivacious human soul could be so carelessly bargained away was a fucking abomination.
After an eon, she finally turned to face him again, her lashes wet with tears, eyes wide in the darkness. In a pained whisper that nearly gutted him, she said only, “And what if you can’t?”
Dorian reached for her hands and brought them to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to her palms. When he glanced up at her again, his own eyes blurred with tears, his voice shattering, his heart damn near exploding with the force of his conviction. “Then my last act upon thiswretchedearth will be to sign away what’s left of my soul. I will follow you to the depths of hell, Charlotte, because I love you, and I’ll continue to love you—in this realm or the next—for however bloody long eternity lasts.”
Chapter Twelve
You’re bound to a demon lord, Charlotte...
The words echoed through Charley’s nightmares, chasing her down every dark alley, into every fiery pit. She couldn’t escape them; even as Dorian held her in his strong embrace, tucked into his bed hours after they’d returned from Cole’s cabin, everything about his confession haunted her.
A demon claim. A slave of hell.
It all sounded so ridiculous and impossible—like something out of a low-budget horror movie. But she’d seen the fear in Dorian’s eyes when he’d said the words. She’d felt the desperation in his touch.
However impossible, it was real.Allof her nightmares were real.
And all of them—Sasha’s kidnapping, her father’s murder, the attack by Rogozin’s guys when she was a kid, the demon mark—could be traced right back to Rudy. Charley might not know the specifics, but she was sure of it now.
Her uncle was a conniving, murderous, demonic shitbag who deserved to fester in hell.
The question was…
What the fuck was she going to do about it?
* * *
There was something supremely hopeful about the smell of coffee on a crisp fall morning, and when Charley made her way down to the kitchen, the dark shadows that had haunted her all night finally began to shrink.
Taking in the sight, she couldn’t help but smile.
Sunshine. Coffee. Friends. The vampire she was madly in love with.
It felt like the universe was conspiring to give her a second chance at a better day. Was there anything more promising?
“Good morning, beautiful.” Dorian rose from the table in the breakfast nook, where he, Aiden, and Cole had been huddling over a pair of laptops, a tablet, and enough printouts to wallpaper the kitchen.
“There’sour little speed demon,” Cole said, winking as Dorian came to press a soft kiss to her cheek. The wolf mimicked a crazy steering maneuver at the table, nearly knocking over his mug. “Thought maybe you’d snuck off to the racetrack to practice your sweet-ass moves.”
Charley laughed. “Coffee first. Sweet-ass moves later.”
Dorian handed her a freshly brewed cup, then wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and smiled softly—a look that was just for her.
Are you all right, love?he seemed to be asking.I’m right here with you.
She read it all in his eyes, and in response, she nodded and let out a slow breath, the last of the night’s tension evaporating.
Ofcoursehe was right there with her. And he always would be.
For however bloody long eternity lasts…
It was a promise, a vow, and it gave her so much strength, she felt as if they could accomplish anything.
