Page 142 of Burn for Her

Lucian popped his head into the room. “It’s about time. I was starting to feel like a permanent piece of furniture in the hall.”

Dorian huffed a laugh and winced. Shit that hurt.

But the pain was good. The pain meant he wasn’t dead.

“How long have I been out?” He sat up in the bed and scrubbed his face with both hands. Oh hey, what do you know, his arm was reattached.

“About two weeks,” Lena said. “I think. I don’t even know. I’ve lost track of time.”

“Sixteen days,” Lucian said quietly as he sat down in a chair by the vanity. “Your mate hasn’t left your side for a second. Stood guard by your bed the whole time.”

Dorian noticed Lena had lost a little weight. Her hair was pulled back in a braid that had seen better days too. In her hand was his favorite karambit. He arched his brow, “What do you plan to do with that?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I can be creative.”

He chuckled.

“She threatened to use it on the next person who knocked on the door to check on you. The whole House has been worried for you.”

Dorian didn’t know how to feel about that. He honestly didn’t think anyone in the House of Death, besides a handful of vampires, even cared whether he lived or died. It was kind of nice to learn that wasn’t the truth. He lived to protect each being here, so a little compassion in return was nice.

“How do you feel?” Lucian hedged.

“Different.” And that was the honest truth. He didn’t know what changed, but something had. Maybe it was the rush of cheating death? Maybe it was the final piece of his curse lifting?

“You bonded,” Lucian smiled. “It saved your ass in the literal last minute, man.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed. He shook his head, “What do you mean?”

“In the act of killing your father,” Lena said, “the last piece of the alakhai bond clicked into place.”

“Slaying your biggest and fiercest demon,” Lucian added, “unlocked your blood curse and saved your sorry ass from incinerating.”

“He’s dead?” Dorian needed to know for sure. He wasn’t going to believe it if he didn’t see it himself.

“Torn to pieces, burned to ashes, dusted in the humid, mosquito infested swamp breeze.” Lucian gave him a minute to grab onto all that. “I’d have saved you the proof, but we didn’t leave anything of that mongrel behind. He’s gone, Dorian. I swear it.”

He trusted Lucian enough to believe him.

Dorian leaned back on his pillow with a sigh. He felt like shit for failing to kill that monster the first time around. How many innocent lives had his father claimed over the years? He couldn’t bring himself to make those calculations.

His head started banging. Wincing, he gripped his head and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Visions flashed in his mind, all wild and vaguely familiar.

Wait… what?

He shook his head. Blinked. Still saw them.

“Memories.” His concentration was shot to shit. He doubled down on catching the visions from his dream.

Running and laughing, touching the shrubbery…

“What do you remember?” Lucian asked cautiously.

“What happened after I passed out?”

“You mean almost bursting into flames and ash?” Lucian sat back in his chair. “Or after we brought you home, a ravenous wreck of a vampire?”

“I only remember cutting my father’s throat.” He looked up at Lena and smiled. “With your help.”