Page 107 of Burn for Her
And she’s created for me… as I am for her.
Dorian grabbed a bottle of pain relievers from a bin under her sink and went down to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. “I’ll be back with something for you to drink.” He doubted she even heard him, he moved so fast.
Skidding down the steps, he stopped long enough to lock her front door, then made his way into the kitchen. Yanking the fridge open, he snagged a bottle of water and slammed it shut. He caught movement outside her window. “The fuck?” He peered outside, arm already reaching into the knife block, fingers wrapping around the first thing they touched as he looked out into her sunny backyard.
A cluster of birds flew out of a tree and landed on the ground, pecking, and hopping around before scattering to the sky. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the yard again just in case, but it was hard to tell what was what. His vision was depleting again because he was too far from Lena.
Backing up, he smacked into her kitchen island. A butcher block and cleaver lay on the counter, next to the bowl of lemons. Dorian’s lips curled at the sight of that blade. He tucked the damned thing under a small dishtowel and headed back upstairs to take care of his mate.
Lena was passed out on the bed, her hair a mess of wisps and tiny knots around her face. Dorian smoothed her hair away and kissed the top of her head. Then her temple. Then her cheek. Her jaw. He got as far as under her ear before stopping himself. His fangs throbbed and his cock hardened. He drew back before he went too far.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dorian studied Lena while she slept… all the while planning what he needed to do in order to keep her forever.
Chapter 34
Dorian held Lena in his arms, cherishing even her breathing rhythm, when a terrible, familiar sensation blazed down his spine. It was the same one he felt when he’d flashed. Shit, shit, shit! He had no control over this!
Suddenly, he was standing in the heart of the House of Death, breathless and disoriented. Malachi sat in his massive chair in front of his big ass mirror. Lucian stood at the other end of the table, pouring blood into a wine glass for their king. He took one look at Dorian’s sudden appearance and dropped the crystal. It shattered, spilling blood all over the floor. “Holy shit.”
Dorian gasped to catch his breath.
“You’ve fed.” Malachi didn’t bother looking over at him. “Good.”
“What’s—” Dorian held his arms out and stared at them. They felt like a million ants were nibbling on his skin. “What’s going on? How the hell did I just flash here? I wasn’t thinking of this place at all.”
“How did you flash at all?” Lucian gawked. He knew Dorian didn’t have that ability before now. Not all vampires were built the same, and anyone who could flash usually had royal blood in them.
“I called my blood in you.” Malachi’s brow arched.
Dorian heard the King had that power, but as far as he knew, Malachi never used it. Probably because he never fed anyone in the House. The idea that he could force Dorian to come when called didn’t sit well with him. It made him feel too out of control of his own body.
“Relax,” Malachi grumbled. “I can only do it once.”
So, the fear was evident in Dorian and the king saw it. Great. Now he felt exposed.
Why was everything making him feel vulnerable? Because I am vulnerable until this curse it dealt with. “I need to get back to Lena.”
“Not yet,” Malachi said. “We have a problem.”
Lucian was still stuck on Dorian flashing. “His new power is from you, Malachi?” When the king didn’t respond, Lucian approached Dorian with his eyes still wide in shock. “You fed from our King?”
“I’m not losing my Reaper.” Malachi growled. “Nor am I the only one he’s fed from. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Sit, Dorian.”
A chair skidded back from the large table and Dorian’s ass slammed down on it. He wasn’t in control of his body. “Sire?" Dorian’s panic rose.
Malachi put a finger up, his gold ring glinting in the candlelight. His gaze remained fixed on the huge, gilded mirror, even as Marius stormed into the room with an entourage parading behind him.
“I demand answers!” Marius thundered.
“And I demand you keep your voice at a reasonable volume,” Malachi growled. “Lest I rip your throat out to force your silence, you ill-bred imp.”
What. The fuck. Was happening. Dorian and Lucian both looked at each other for a heartbeat before Lucian snapped into guard mode. Dorian, however, remained in his seat. He couldn’t move a muscle beyond leaning forward or leaning back. It was like being in some kind of invisible straight jacket. This was the king’s doing, but why? It felt violating. Scratch that, it was violating. It brought out the bad pieces of Dorian he wished would stay buried.
“Another of my men has gone missing.” Marius slammed his fist upon the large table.
“And this is our problem, how?” Lucian’s entire demeanor morphed into a cold, calm, aloofness that was sure to push all of Marius’s buttons.
“He was last seen here,” Marius accused, jabbing his jeweled finger on the table, “in your territory.”