Page 100 of Burn for Her

Vampire.

The word was released over and over, like a quiver of arrows aimed right at Dorian.

Bowen knelt and pulled something small from the wolf’s crooked jaw. A piece of cardboard. Bowen’s face paled once he read it, and his gaze snapped to Dorian.

“What does is say, son?” Alistair shoved forward. “Read it.”

“Never forget, Fear Eater.” Bowen handed the note to the first Lycan who reached for it. Then he wiped his hand on his pants as if the very cardboard was tainted and toxic. All eyes spun to Dorian.

Fear Eater.

That name would be the final nail in his goddamn coffin.

“Never forget,” another Lycan snarled. “No, I don’t think we ever will.” He growled at Dorian, his lips peeling back to reveal teeth already sharpening as he started to shift.

Dorian’s sick and twisted past wasn’t a secret. He told Alistair and Marie everything when he first came to them a bleeding, broken bag of bones. As if confessing all the crimes committed, all the horrors witnessed, would bring him absolution and forgiveness. As if, in being openly honest—no matter how gruesome his stories—they would trust him because he hadn’t lied.

He’d done the same thing once he joined the House of Death. Told Malachi everything.

Truthfully, he feared the monster he’d been carved into was a risk to any who took him in. He wanted the Woods family to know what they invited into their home, so he never hid his past, thoughts, or cravings. They took him in regardless of his warnings. Loved him like one of their own. Even asked permission to share his story with others. Dorian said yes, of course. Word spread and turned to warnings which turned to fear which turned to hate and disgust. All directed at Dorian.

Rumors of the Fear Eater spread across continents. The vampire child raised by a monster, forced to suck dry the veins of victims at their highest terror-point.

Fear Eater. The name was spat at him by countless Lycan and vampire over the centuries. It was the curse he could never break.

“Do you think this is funny, Fear Eater?” a furious Lycan named Derek growled. “What have you done, Reaper?”

“He didn’t do this!” Lena roared.

Dorian squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. As much as he appreciated the back up, he didn’t want Lena making this worse.

“Alistair.” Derek went after the Alpha of this territory. “You open your home to this vampire and his little fang fucker, allow them to witness our most sacred ceremony, and look at what it’s cost you. What it’s cost us. How many times will you cough up the payment for this creature’s sins?”

Alistair wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. “If Dorian says he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. This violence isn’t his style.”

Derek huffed a cold-hearted chuckle. “No, the Reaper’s style is more dignified now, isn’t it? He decapitates, tortures, disembowels, and does who knows what else with his victims. Just like his sire did before him.” Derek had the nerve to touch the toe of his boot to the opened ribcage of this animal. “Didn’t your sire do this to some of his favored ones? Is that how you learned to perfect cuts this clean?”

“Enough.” Alistair growled.

Derek licked his lips with a smug look on his face. “Never. Forget. Fear Eater.” His gaze raked reproachfully down Dorian. “No, we never will forget the terrors you wrought.”

Dorian’s carefully constructed control fractured. He took a step forward, envisioning tackling this Lycan to the ground. Fury made his blood boil. Contempt killed his conscience. His fangs extended, making his gums bleed thanks to his curse. He wanted to rip this motherfucker’s head off. Drink, drink, drink until he choked on Lycan blood. Tear this cocksucker limb from limb and scream at how wrong he was.

But Derek was right. Nothing the Lycan said was out of line. Dorian had gone out of his way to become infamous for his execution style. He told everyone about his past and thus, his father’s heinous acts.

“How dare you, Derek.” Emily ripped out of Bowen’s hold and ran at him. “You can fuck right off. Dorian would never do this!”

“Emily.” Dorian didn’t want her in the middle of this either. She had to live with these packs, not him. She couldn’t afford to make enemies like Derek and the other Alphas here tonight. They were all watching her and the Woods family closely, biding their time until they challenged Alistair or Emerick for this territory.

Alistair turned to Dorian, his expression grave. Dorian knew that look. Leave. That’s what he was silently pleading Dorian to do.

Leave.

If he stayed like he wanted, and helped search for the vampire who did this, it wouldn’t go well because no one would believe the culprit acted without Dorian’s knowledge. Or worse, consent. It could, and most likely would, start a war between these Lycan and the House of Death. Dorian needed to protect more than his mate and his position right now. He had a king to protect too, and a lot of vampires. Alistair needed to do the same for his kind.

“I’ll escort them out,” Emerick said and grabbed Dorian’s arm. “Let’s go.” His voice was a warped growl. He was close to shifting.

With Lena by his side, Dorian could feel everyone’s eyes on his back like a thousand daggers—stabbing, twisting, draining him down to a hollow shell.