Page 106 of Burn for Her

Dorian made no move to do so. “You invite a monster into your house.”

“Ever consider a monster just lured you into her lair?”

Touché. He stepped into Lena’s home and his world fell off its axis. Everything about this place was his mate. The colors, the scent, the sounds. He was starstruck by it. Breathing in through his nose, he filled his body with new life, relishing how his senses had returned to him. He looked around and his heart melted a little. He guessed it, little colorful throw pillows on her couch.

“I’ll just be a minute. Make yourself at home.” Lena ducked away and went upstairs.

While he waited, Dorian looked around her first floor. Thankfully, his vision cleared again. He’d gone blind on the ride home and didn’t want to freak her out with the news. They were the longest moments of his life. Dorian kept running over threats in his mind. If someone attacked them on the road, he’d be useless. Sloppy.

But it wouldn’t have stopped him.

He was grateful they got here safely and without incident. He’d walked carefully up her driveway, hellbent on not letting her find out how messed up he was. Then she was in front of him, opening the door and he could see her silhouette. Once Lena opened things up, it was like the sun blazed into his soul and his vision returned. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. More than enough for now.

Dorian ran his hand across the back of her sofa. It was soft and cream colored. Her walls were a pale gray. Maybe. It was hard to make out colors just yet. He went into the kitchen next, his nostrils flaring. This was the strangest thing—to scan for threats and be consumed by the love of your life’s very existence at the same time.

He smiled at a pile of lemons in a bowl. I knew it. The counter and cabinets were white. Sleek stainless appliances and a large stove range. Cautiously, slowly, he prowled around the first floor, taking in everything, constantly sweeping the area for lurking threats.

He was going to turn her tonight. If he could get his ass back in gear and head on straight, he was turning Lena. He wanted a life with her. Immortality with her. He just needed to get his head in the game.

His body and soul were already there.

His ears perked up to the faintest sound of a kitten mewling. Dorian listened closely. Aww hell, it wasn’t a kitten.

It was Lena.

His heart seized and he took the steps, two at a time. “Lena?” No answer. “Lena?” Still no answer. He tracked that godawful sound all the way through her bedroom and into her bathroom. He pushed the door open…

“I’m sorry.” She sniffled on the side of her tub. “I’m—”

Dorian lowered between her legs. “It’s me who should be apologizing. I’ve drug you into a mess.”

“No.” Lena wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m just tired and confused.”

He looked around for a towel to dry her eyes with but ended up cupping her face and wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. He wanted to lick those salty tears away. He wanted to lick every inch of her. The longer he held her, the closer he drew near, the clearer his senses became.

“Is this a spell?” she blurted out. “Is this some kind of compulsion I’m under?”

It’s me who’s spelled and beguiled, he wanted to say. It’s me who’s under your thrall. “I don’t have that skill set,” he said cautiously. “Nor would I ever use such a thing on you.”

“I can’t tell what’s real anymore,” she whispered. “Everything feels weird. I don’t understand what’s happening now.” She started sobbing and he figured recent events had finally caught up with her. Now that she was back in her safe space, she was allowing herself to fall apart.

Christ, he was an asshole for all of this. He made her this way. He was the reason for her tears.

Like he needed another reason to hate himself?

“Why do you feel spelled?” Call him paranoid, but part of him feared she was under someone else’s enthrallment, though the possibility was practically zilch. Still…

“I don’t understand why I feel this drawn to someone I barely even know. Why I feel this possessive and protective of you.” She sniffled again. “And my feelings are getting worse.”

Worse, or stronger?

He swallowed the lump in his throat. It was most likely getting worse because he was getting worse.

“You’re tired,” he said quietly, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to bed. “You need rest. I’ll stay close, but you have to get some sleep.” He laid Lena gently in her fluffy bed with more pillows on it than made sense. Then he doubled back to get her some water and pain reliever meds because she had to have a raging headache at this point. He sure as shit did.

Dorian slipped back into her bathroom to look for medicine. Her cabinets were filled with bandages, creams, splints. He gawked at the amount of first aid she had. Holy… shit. This was all for when she came back from a fight?

His heart perked up at the fact that his mate was such a fearless fighter. Not many women were built like Lena… in fact, he was certain she broke the mold the day she was created.