Page 101 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

“And yet you did. You hurt me last night. You bit me, Dorian. You…” My voice quavers, and I swallow hard. “You drank my blood, didn’t you? So, I’m going to ask you again, what are you?”

“I’m a cursed man. A monster.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He lifts his gaze to meet mine, his eyes swimming with regret. “I’m a vampire,” he replies, before falling to the side and passing out.

Chapter 23

Edie

“What the hell is going on? You’re as jumpy as a jackrabbit in heat,” Henrietta exclaims, eyeing me as I wear a path into her rug. She looks at me like I might spontaneously combust, and honestly, I feel like I could. After all, I just slept with a fucking vampire.

“I’m going to hell,” I shout.

“What?” she yells back, her curls bouncing around her face as she stares at me.

“This is all a horrible, terrible nightmare. In a moment, I’m going to wake up in bed,” I mumble, pressing my eyes shut, willing myself to do exactly that. Only when I open my eyes, Henrietta is still staring at me, and I’m still standing in my pyjamas in her living room, my car keys gripped in my hand.

“Edie, listen. You need to take a breath and tell me what’s wrong,” she says. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”

I nod, matching her breaths, in and out, in and out. But my heart refuses to calm down. Any second now, it might just hurl itself out of my chest and splatter across her pristine new rug. I wouldn’t blame it either. If I could detach myself from my stupid, lustful body, I would do it too.

“I think I’m going to throw up again,” I moan, gagging as bile burns the back of my throat.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve got that stomach bug all the kids seem to have gone down with recently. I do not need to get sick, too,” she says, backing away from me and covering her nose and mouth with her hand.

“I’m not sick,” I cry, gagging again.

She waves her hand at me. “You’re about to upchuck all over my rug,” she yells, grabbing my arm and dragging me to her downstairs bathroom. She pushes me inside and points to the toilet. “Throw up in there.”

“I’m not bloody sick, Henrietta,” I insist, dropping my keys on her vanity unit and reaching for the tap, turning it on. I splash my face with cold water and grab the hand towel, shoving it over my face.

“Then what’s wrong? Maybe it’s the HRT you’re taking. Perhaps you’re allergic or something?” she rattles on. “If you want, I can call the doctor to get you an emergency appointment?”

“I don’t need a doctor. I need… Henrietta, I slept with Dorian,” I cry, scrunching the hand towel between my fingers.

“Wait, you fucked Dorian?” Her eyes widen, then after a beat, a grin spreads across her face. “You fucked him, and now you’re having a conniption. This is…”

“A nightmare.”

“Bloody amazing,” she says at the same moment. “I knew he’d be incredible in bed. Look at you, you’re shaking all over. You can’t even string a proper sentence together. He fucked you so good…” Her voice trails off as I shake my head furiously. “It wasn’t good?”

“It wasn’t⁠—”

“Please don’t tell me he was a disappointment. I don’t think I can stand it,” she says, grimacing as I glare at her.

“He was incredible, but that’s not… that isn’t why… Oh, Jesus. I think I’m going to pass out again.”

My head swims, and I stumble towards the toilet, sitting down on it with a thump.

“He was so incredible, you passed out?” Henrietta whistles, then she does this happy little dance, grinning inanely whilst clapping her hands. “I want all the details. Every single, sinfully delicious second of them.”

“You do not,” I snap.

“Oh yes, girl, I do.”

She seizes my hand and drags me back to the living room. “Sit. Stay. We need alcohol for this,” she commands, spinning away. My legs give way and I drop onto the sofa. Moments later, she’s back, slamming down two glasses and popping the cork on a bottle of champagne she’d been saving for a special occasion. The cork explodes like a gunshot, ricocheting off the ceiling, and I nearly leap out of my skin.