Page 133 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

“I do. I cannot live knowing he loves you,” she replies bitterly, and within her gaze, I see both love and hatred. She loves Dorian, but she won’t stop hating me, and that means I’ll always be in danger.

She takes another step backwards, dragging Basilia with her.

“Sybil, I know what it feels like to love someone who cannot love you in return. The pain is excruciating. It changes you.”

“He was supposed to love me. He was supposed to be mine,” she yells, her hatred for me falling away as her love for Dorian rises to the surface. “I made myself into the woman I believed you needed. Everything I did, everything I’ve become, is because of you. You changed us both. Look at what you’ve done to Basilia, what you’ve done to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorian says, stepping forward, his voice filled with regret. He drags in a shuddering breath, his fingers tightening around mine as he looks at his wife. “I never understood love until now. I’m sorry for breaking your heart, Basilia. I’m sorry for every act of cruelty. I was a selfish man who lacked remorse and empathy. You didn’t deserve any of it. I will always live with the guilt of what I did to you. I will never forget the pain I caused.”

Basilia’s shoulders sag, and for the briefest of moments, a softness passes over her features, reminding me of the woman who stood beside Dorian in that painting of them both.

Dorian turns his attention to Sybil. “You have been by my side since the beginning. You were strong when I was weak. You’re a formidable woman. You were my friend and that meant something to me. But I can never trust you again. If you choose to live, you will do so without the protection of my clan.”

“You can never trust either of us, because no matter how pretty your words are, we are both too twisted up by hatred to behave any differently. I cannot live knowing you’ll never love me. If I don’t do this, Basilia will kill you, Dorian, and I will kill Edie. This is the only act of love I’m capable of.”

With that, Sybil drags Basilia through the door and into the sunlight.

Dorian rushes forward, but I grab his arm, holding him in place. “I can’t lose you again.”

My voice breaks as Sybil’s anguished scream splits the air. We watch in horror as their skin singes beneath the sun’s rays, instantly reddening with burns. Basilia thrashes in her arms, desperate to break free, but Sybil drags her further into the garden, refusing to let go. Their skin bubbles and splits, turning black with every second that passes.

The stench of burning flesh makes me gag, and I throw myself into Dorian’s arms.

“Dorian, I can’t watch anymore,” I sob.

“Then I will witness this for both of us, and it will remind me every day of the monster I refuse to become again.”

He cradles my head, and I squeeze my eyes shut, their screams clawing at me, leaving wounds I will never recover from.

By the time Dorian releases me, there’s nothing left but a pile of ash.

Chapter 31

Dorian - two weeks later

“Excuse me, you left your shoes at the bar,” I say, my eyes falling to Edie’s bare feet propped against the coffee table. She’s wearing a sleek, black, knee-length dress that rides up her thighs, making my hands twitch to touch her.

Edie turns her head towards me just as she did the day we met, her gaze smoldering as it travels up my body. Her smile is slow, her eyes sparkling with the memory of our first encounter. She takes a sip from her glass of blood, resting it on the coffee table.

“May I join you?”

“Don’t tell me you’re my Prince Charming and I’m your Cinderella, because I can assure you, whilst those are my shoes, my feet are so swollen from wearing them all day no amount of shoving them back in will make them fit.”

I grin, dropping onto the seat beside her as I play along. “Then allow me to massage your feet.”

Edie shifts along the banquette, lifting her feet into my lap, her eyes drifting shut as I press my thumbs into the soles of her feet.

“I could get used to this,” she says, her body relaxing. “I’m curious. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve? I already know you’re terribly good with your hands.”

“Just my hands?” I ask, lifting her foot to my mouth and kissing her toes, grateful the bar is empty and I don’t have to pry the eyes out of anyone who might dare to look her way.

Her eyes snap open, lust billowing within their depths. “Your mouth is rather talented, too.”

“What about my cock? Does that please you, Edie?”

She tilts her head, her silky hair cascading around her shoulders, a spark of mischief lighting up her face. “It’s not quite as good as my favourite vibrator⁠—”

Launching forward, I grasp her hips, pulling her onto my lap. She straddles my hips, her dress hitching around her waist. “Don’t insult me,” I warn, just as playfully, before rocking my hips so she can feel how much she turns me on. “You know nothing can get you off better than I can.”