“What do you mean?”
“For more than two centuries,” he said, “the Book of Lost Souls and the blade of the demon Azerius were buried here at Ravenswood. And a mere eighteen years ago, in a moment of abject desperation no father should ever have to face, yours promised you to that same demon. And somehow, across all the years, all the twists and turns, all the different possibilities, fate saw fit to bring us together.”
“So that’s it, then?” she teased, trailing her fingers down to unfasten the top buttons of his shirt, her touch making him shiver. “You think this was all some twist of fate? A stage play where we’re merely the actors?”
“Is that whatyouthink?”
At his question, her fingers stilled over the next button, and the smile that had shone so brightly only moments ago faded. “I think we were both cursed with fathers who made terrible choices they convinced themselves were the right ones. And those choices—however terrible, however painful—set us on the collision course that ultimately brought us together. If you want to call it fate? Fine. Fate put me on your path.” She glanced up at him again, her eyes flashing with new fire. “But fate didnotmake me fall in love with you. It didn’t makeus.Wedid this, Dorian. One kiss, one touch, one conversation, one heartbeat at a time. At least, that’s how I feel. If you feel differently, I—”
“Charlotte.” He covered her hand with his own and pressed it against his chest, his heart banging like a wild thing beneath her touch. “Do you feel that? For more than two hundred and fifty years, I scarcely remembered it even existed. And now, it beats again—because of you.Foryou. What I feel… My love for you… It’s not some cosmic whim or trick of the gods. It’s beyond explanation. Beyond words. Beyond all things. Don’teverquestion it.”
Her smile finally returned, and Dorian touched his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent, her very presence.
It was time.
Dorian took one last deep breath, then said, “I have a proposition for you, Ms. D’Amico.”
“Is that so, Mr. Redthorne,” she teased, returning her attention to the buttons on his shirt. “Better make it a good one. Word on the street is I’m an excellent negotiator.”
“I’ve heard the rumors.”
Finished with the buttons, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, then got to work on her own clothing, losing the jacket, the blouse, and the suit pants in quick succession.
He stared at her, his gaze tracing the delicate lace outlines of her jade-green undergarments, his thoughts unraveling.
Charlotte arched an eyebrow, clearly aware of her effect on him. “You were saying, Mr. Redthorne? Or have you already given up?”
“Optionone,” he said firmly, sweeping his half-naked goddess into his arms. “You remain as you are—an impossibly stubborn, fiercely beautiful mortal woman whom I vow to love and protect for the rest of your life.”
The meaning behind his words hit her instantly, and her smile stretched wider, her eyes shining with emotion. “What’s option two?”
“Option two.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, the words themselves feeling like a sacred declaration. “I will make you immortal, if that is still your desire. And from that moment henceforth, you’ll be an impossibly stubborn, fiercely beautiful vampire queen whom I vow to love and protect for the rest of eternity.”
Charlotte gasped, a new light dancing through her coppery gaze. “Sounds an awful lot like a real date, Mr. Redthorne.”
Dorian was captivated once again by her eyes, and for a moment he said nothing—just allowed himself to get lost in them, memorizing the threads of gold, the light, the sparkle, the storm.
“Is this truly what you want?” he finally asked.
She took his face between her hands and smiled. “It’s truly what I want, Dorian. But only if you want it to.”
“I do, love,” he said, and despite his lingering fears, that was the truth. “But you must promise me you’ll doexactlyas I say. Once I determine your heart has slowed enough—almost to a stop—you’ll need to drink my blood. Your body may reject the taste at first, but you have to fight through it. If you don’t take my blood, your heart will—”
“I’ll take it. I promise.”
“Maybe I… I should call Isabelle. Or Colin. If anything goes wrong, they can help—”
“No. Just you, Dorian. You and me.” She put her hand over his heart again and smiled. “I trust you. I trustus.”
Dorian let out a deep exhale. “All right, love. You and me.”
They stripped out of the last of their clothing, then he turned her toward the window again, both of them gazing out across the rolling hills to the river beyond. In the early evening light, it was a copper vein drinking in the last golden rays of the setting sun.
It was beautiful.
It was perfect.
Dorian swept her long hair aside, blazing a trail of kisses down the back of her neck, the taste of her skin a remedy that chased away the last of his fears.
