Page 109 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

Henrietta steps out from behind Edie, her body relaxed, her expression soft. It bothers me that she’s under my spell. I happen to like her fun, flirty nature and her fierce protectiveness of Edie. Seeing her like this, so dazed and utterly unlike herself, makes me feel like a fucking bastard. It doesn’t stop me, though.

Nothing will stop me from taking what I want.

“Come here, Henrietta,” I say, and she sidesteps Edie, taking a step towards me.

Edie grabs her arm whilst I clasp the other. “I’m stronger than you, Edie. I don’t want to hurt Henrietta, but if you insist on trying to pull her away from me, she will get hurt.”

“You absolute bastard,” Edie seethes, dropping Henrietta’s arm.

Focusing my attention on Henrietta, I grip her upper arms gently, ducking to look into her eyes. “Henrietta, you’re a good person, and believe me, I don’t want to do this. But I need to take Edie away for a little while, and I can’t have you remembering why I was here, or me, for that matter. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to forget you ever met me, or Logan, or Viktor, or anyone connected to us.”

“I knew you were a fucking hypnotist. How dare you do this?”

I glance over at Edie. “I’m a vampire. I can glamour humans using my compulsion. It’s better this way.”

“Then why haven’t you glamoured me? Wouldn’t this be easier if you did?” she spits.

“Because I can’t, Edie. I can’t glamour you. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“You wanted to twist up my memories, make me forget. This is just getting better and better.”

“It would’ve been easier, yes. But nothing about us is easy, Edie.”

“There is no us,” she yells.

Still, I notice the way she falters, her eyes filling with tears, pain and disappointment flashing across her face. Sympathy rises within me, but the sting of my tattoos reminds me what’s at stake and I cut the feeling off, turning my attention back to Henrietta.

“Henrietta, you’re going to forget Edie ever met me. You won’t recall any conversation you’ve had with her about me. As far as you're concerned, she’s not involved with anyone. Edie has taken some time off work. You’re not going to question it. Right now, you’re to go to bed, and tomorrow you’ll wake up refreshed, unconcerned. Happy.”

“Good luck with that. As soon as I’m missing from work, shit will hit the fan. They’ll come looking for me.”

“They won’t,” I reply, stepping aside as Henrietta crosses the hallway and climbs the stairs. “One of my clan will glamour whoever I need them to in order to see this through.”

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” she asks, backing up as I step closer.

“No, Edie. I don’t want to hurt you,” I reply, gently curling my fingers over hers, and removing the stake, chucking it down the hallway and out of reach.

“Then what? You want to use me as your own personal blood bank?”

My nostrils flare, and my gaze flicks to the pulse beating frantically in her neck. “I won’t deny I want nothing more than to drink from you again.” Her eyes flash with fear, but not before a thread of desire flickers across them. “Do you want me to drink from you again?”

“No.” But her cheeks pinken, and my fucking cock twitches at the scent of her arousal drifting between us.

“Edie. Will you come with me?”

“You ask as if I have a choice,” she replies, backing up.

I heave out a breath. “So be it.”

Ducking down, I lift Edie off the floor, throwing her over my shoulder. She lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and I slap her arse. She gasps, and seizing the moment of quiet, I say, “Screaming like that will get attention from Henrietta’s neighbours. If they come out of their homes, I will have no choice but to have Logan deal with them, and he’s already pissed off with me for glamouring Henrietta. I wouldn’t put it past him to take his frustrations out on anyone who tries to stop me.”

Edie immediately stills in my hold. “Fine. But I’ll walk.”

Chapter 25

Edie

Pacing up and down in Dorian’s bedroom, I wring my hands, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to get myself out of this. I’ve been locked in his room for hours now. There are no windows to pry open, no phone I can use to reach the outside world. There’s just a huge bed in the centre of the room, and a single lamp sitting on a side table beside it, throwing shadows across the wooden floor. The space is oppressive; the walls painted black, the satin sheets a deep red. It’s a room-sized version of a fucking coffin, and if I don’t get the hell out of here, I’m going to end up a corpse.