Page 102 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

“It’s not even midday yet,” I say, willing myself to calm the hell down.

“It’s after five somewhere in the world,” she says, waving away my argument. “Besides, you’ve had an orgasm during sex, and we need to celebrate.”

“I’m not sure celebrating is what we should be doing,” I reply, taking the glass from her, anyway.

“Listen, if you’re feeling some type of way about those men he killed⁠—”

“Murdered, Edie. He murdered them.”

“Then I give you permission not to feel guilty,” she continues. “He got rid of two deviant bastards, and frankly deserves a medal, or at least some kind of award.”

“That’s… That’s not what I’m...”

“Then what is it? Did he turn into an arsehole again as soon as he had his wicked way with you?” she scowls then, and I shake my head.

“No. I… He… Fuck.”

Plopping on the sofa next to me, she grins. “Well, spill it. How many times did you come?”

“Several,” I mutter, swallowing down the sharp taste of champagne, the bubbles bursting over my tongue as I swallow.

“Several?” She swoons, placing the back of her hand on her forehead and falling back against the sofa. “Edie, this is the universe’s way of paying you back for all those years you spent dissatisfied with Robert. I told you Dorian would be amazing in bed.”

“Well, if it is, the universe has a terrible sense of humour,” I bite back, taking another sip of champagne.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came several times. The universe has got your back, or should I say, vagina.”

“The sex was amazing,” I admit, exhaling slowly. “But that isn’t the issue here.”

“Then what is? Was it the aftercare?” she asks, sitting forward and reaching for my hand. “Did he leave without saying goodbye?”

She searches my face, her delight quickly turning to concern as I shudder, fear and confusion overtaking every other emotion I’m feeling right now. “He couldn’t leave. He’s currently curled up in my walk-in-wardrobe.”

Henrietta’s brows furrow. “Why is he in your wardrobe?” She pauses, cocking her head. “Is this why you’re still in your pyjamas? Wait, did you role-play and something went wrong?”

“I’m not sure you can call this role play…”

My voice trails off as I get a flashback of Dorian sinking his fangs into my neck. I shudder, not just from fear, but from the sudden spike of lust that shoots through my veins and pools between my legs. It’s so overwhelming that I let out a stuttered moan, then slam my mouth shut.

“Jesus, Edie, I knew he’d be kinky, but I think, maybe, he should’ve eased you in gently. What the hell happened?”

“He climbed through my window, and I was going to stab him with my knife⁠—”

“Wait, what?” she exclaims.

“After I called him and questioned him about those men he murdered,” I remind her and myself. “He admitted he’d broken into my home last week and watched me sleep.”

Henrietta’s mouth pops open, and she stares at me with round eyes. “What the kinky-fuckery? He watched you sleep?”

I nod, ploughing on before I lose my nerve. “I refused to let him in, so he climbed up onto my extension and came through my bedroom window. Then he stripped down to his boxers. That’s when I threatened to cut off his cock.”

“And he just took his clothes off with you brandishing a knife at him?”

“It was raining. He was wet,” I say, reaching up and rubbing my temples and the headache beginning to bloom there.

“Then what happened?”

“He said that he wouldn’t hurt me, then he grabbed my wrist and pressed the knife against his throat. I think he did that to make me feel safe.”