Dread coiled in Dorian’s gut, and he knew Malcolm was speaking the truth—about this, at least. He could see it in his eyes—the hunger. The weakness. The darkness creeping in around the edges.
Dorian glanced at Gabriel, but his youngest brother closed his eyes and tipped his glass back, giving nothing away.
“What does this have to do with Father and House Kendrick?” Dorian asked, still fighting to keep from throttling Malcolm where he stood.
“It’s a curse,” Malcolm said simply. There was no smugness in his tone, no bait upon which he’d hoped his brothers would bite.
He was speaking the truth again.
The dread in Dorian’s gut sank deeper.
“After Father failed to deliver the Mother of Lost Souls as per their agreement,” Malcolm continued, “comradeNikolai had his dark witches brew up averyspecial punishment. They unleashed a terrible curse—not just on Father, but on our entire bloodline. Including…” He blurred into the space behind Charlotte’s chair and leaned in close, burying his mouth in her hair. “…the vampires we sire.”
Dorian was just about to take him down, but Charlotte saved him the trouble, blurring out of her chair, spinning on her heel, and punching him square in the face.
It was a move straight out of Midnight Marauder, and it did wonders to brighten Dorian’s foul mood.
Malcolm hobbled backward and laughed, rubbing his now-bloodied mouth. “I see the king’s first sire is already getting accustomed to her vampire strength. Better watch it, brother—she’s feisty.”
Charlotte glared at him. “Touch me again, and you’ll need fuckingsurgeryto remove my fist.”
He held up his hands, his smirk firmly in place. “Save your strength, Ms. D’Amico. You’ll need it once the curse takes hold.”
“You and your lies are not welcome here.” Dorian rose from the chair and pointed toward the door. “Take the bottle and go.”
“You feel it, Dorian. Tell me you don’t.”
“Irrelevant,” he snapped. “Once we’ve bonded with the witch, this won’t be—”
“It’s not the witch bond, brother. It’s the curse. And now you’ve cursed the woman you claim to love with the same fate.”
Dorian readied another denial, another command, another insult, but they all died on his tongue.
Despite the traitorous source of this new revelation, somehow, Dorian knew it was true. He could feel it in his fucking soul.
Bloody hell.Cursed by dark witches? Was there no land mine their father had left unplanted?
Dorian let out a deep sigh. “Is that all, Malcolm? Or is there some other darkness you’d like to spread at my feet tonight?”
“No need to be testy, Dorian. I only wanted to share the information.”
“Consider it shared.” He grabbed Malcolm’s elbow and steered him toward the door. “Now leave.”
Malcolm jerked free of his hold and glared at him. “You look at me with such contempt, all because I speak the truth. I would’ve thought you’d be more grateful.”
“The fact that I’m allowing you to leave this manor in anything other than an urn is all the gratitude I can muster. Perhapsyou’rethe one who should be grateful.”
“Me? And yet Gabriel gets a free pass?”
“For all his faults,” Dorian said, “Gabriel is not a traitor to the crown. To his own blood.”
“Are you certain?” Malcolm met Gabriel’s gaze across the room, his eyes darkening with new malice. “Certain in all our years as men and vampires, our little brother never once betrayed your trust?”
“Don’t,” Gabriel warned, but Malcolm only grinned.
Then, leaning in close to Dorian, he whispered, “Perhaps you should ask him about his relationship with Evie. As I understand it, they were quite… close.”
He blurred out of Dorian’s reach in a heartbeat, and Dorian turned to find Gabriel pinning Malcolm to the floor, hands wrapped around his throat.
