Page 46 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

“Because John, Mark,” I say, my voice cold as the true face of the monster within me rises to the surface, and my fangs descend. “This is the last time you’ll ever hear your names.”

Then I lunge for the bastard, ripping his throat with my teeth, his blood spattering across the walls.

Chapter 11

Edie

“Edie, stop fidgeting with your dress. You look stunning,” Henrietta says as we ride the lift to Dorian’s apartment.

“I’m completely overdressed,” I mutter, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the brushed steel of the lift doors.

I don’t know why I allowed Henrietta to convince me to wear this dress. It’s more appropriate for a gala than a dinner invite, and whilst I appreciate the deep, emerald green silk that drapes over my curves and drops to just above my knee, I’d be more comfortable wearing jeans and a shirt like Elizabeth. She looks effortlessly beautiful, her long, strawberry blonde hair hanging down her back like molten gold. She’s the type of person who could wear a burlap sack and still look stunning. My stomach churns. This is the first time Dorian will meet her, and a part of me believes he will be as enamoured with her as my ex-husband was. Not that Elizabeth ever entertained Robert’s playful flirting, but it’s a wound I’d rather not have ripped open again.

“At least you made an effort,” Henrietta says, eying Elizabeth and shaking her head.

“This is me making an effort,” she replies, scowling at Henrietta. “Besides, I’ve no need to impress anyone. It’s them who need to impress me because, mark my words, if they don’t, I’ll be the first person to cut this evening short.”

“You are such a party-pooper,” Henrietta groans.

“Need I remind you why I’m here?”

“Because you’re our resident cock-blocker?” Henrietta snaps back, a little unreasonably in my opinion. Elizabeth might be snippy, but she has a good heart, and she is only trying to look out for us both.

“I resent that statement⁠—”

“You all look delightful. I’m sure Mr Crow will be very pleased indeed,” the concierge, who has been silent until now, interrupts. Thank goodness, because I really don’t need to get stuck in the middle of my best friend and sister having a verbal sparring match right now. I’m already on edge as it is. In fact, my heart has gone into overdrive, and I feel like I’m on the verge of a heart attack. Bloody palpitations.

Elizabeth rolls her eyes, but Henrietta preens beneath his compliment. Her hands smoothing over the black satin of her ankle-length dress, the deep cowl neck showing off the dip of her cleavage. She looks absolutely stunning.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she says, grinning.

When the lift comes to a standstill moments later, and the doors slide open, the argument brewing between Henrietta and Elizabeth is silenced by the sight of the grand, circular entrance hall greeting us.

“Holy shit,” Henrietta exclaims, and even Elizabeth is left speechless as we step out onto a marble floor polished to a high shine, its surface reflecting the soft light from the crystal chandelier hanging above us.

“I told you he lived in the penthouse suite,” Henrietta says, barely suppressing her delight at the opulent display of wealth.

Tasteful artwork covers the walls, and marble plinths between them display exquisite bronze sculptures. I had no idea Dorian was an art connoisseur, but he clearly has an eye for it.

“Is that a Monet?” Elizabeth gasps, stepping closer to a beautiful depiction of a rose covered pergola washed in light, its edges dissolving into soft colour.

“No, that is not a Monet, but I can see why you might think so. It was, in fact, painted by a woman named Basilia Hallward, an old… acquaintance of mine,” Dorian says, stepping out of a door to our left. “Good evening, ladies,” he adds, his gaze slipping to mine as he cocks his head in question.

My heart skips a beat. Dorian looks devastating in dark blue jeans, a black shirt, and loafers. Out of his usual suit, he’s somehow even more attractive, and I find myself staring at him like a fool. My heart decides at that point to give one long, slow thump.

“Edie?” he prompts, and I shake my head, blinking up at him.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my sister along. This is Elizabeth,” I explain, my eyes flitting to my sister as I absentmindedly press my palm against the centre of my chest.

“And you’re Dorian, I take it,” she replies, holding out her hand as he strides towards her. She’s either completely unaffected by his good looks or excellent at hiding her reaction to them. Then again, she was always great at poker.

“Indeed I am,” he confirms, taking her hand and shaking it briefly. “It’s a pleasure.”

“That’s yet to be established,” she says cooly.

Dorian smiles. “I see that feistiness runs in the family.”

“Oh, don’t mind Beth, her words might bite, but inside she’s a pussycat,” Henrietta says as she steps up to Dorian and gives him a brief hug. “Nice outfit, handsome.”