Page 47 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

“Thank you, Hettie. You look beautiful.”

“I appreciate the compliment. Now, where’s my angel? Is he hiding from me?”

“I don’t hide from anyone, least of all you, Little Demon,” Logan says, stepping through the door Dorian came from and eyeing her intensely. Unlike Dorian, he’s still dressed in his usual uniform of a black suit and shirt. Henrietta’s cheeks instantly flush a deep pink, her lips parting on a smile.

“Oh, that man is not an angel,” Elizabeth mutters as she lifts her brows, her poker face slipping momentarily.

“Which is exactly what I’ve been telling Henrietta,” he retorts, barely glancing at my sister. His focus is glued to Henrietta, who practically melts into the floor from his attention. I’m honestly not sure if he wants to drag her off into another room and have his wicked way with her, or march her back down to reception and call her a cab home.

Dorian clears his throat. “Logan, could you take Hettie and Elizabeth to the dining room and make sure the chef is aware we have another guest? We’ll follow shortly.”

“I think I’ll wait with Edie,” Elizabeth says, folding her arms across her chest and eying him suspiciously.

“Elizabeth, it’s okay. I wanted to talk to Dorian alone anyway.” I give her a pointed look.

“I can assure you, Elizabeth. Edie is perfectly safe with me,” Dorian says, stepping closer, his fingers grazing my hand.

“That’s debatable,” she replies, refusing to move.

“Come on, Beth. Edie is old enough to look after herself,” Henrietta says, sliding her arm through Elizabeth’s and pulling her from the room.

“She’s protective of you,” Dorian says as the door clicks shut behind them.

“She is, and I won’t fault her for it. I’m protective of her, too. She’s been through a lot, and her ability to trust anyone, especially men, is difficult.”

“I understand.”

He doesn’t, but I don’t speak about it further. It isn’t my story to tell.

“Did I tell you how incredible you look tonight?” he says, his fingertips trailing up my bare arm as he slides a finger beneath the thin strap of my dress.

Just one touch from him and I’m melting like chocolate. Goosebumps race across my skin, and something flares in his eyes. Lust, definitely, but something else I can’t quite put my finger on. Regardless, I give myself a mental shake, refusing to fall under his spell completely.

“Thank you, though I do feel a little overdressed, and it was definitely a mistake wearing these shoes again. My feet already hurt.”

He smiles languidly, his gaze tracking slowly down my body and resting on my feet. “I’m fond of those heels. They remind me of the night we met. Perhaps, later, you’ll allow me to massage your feet once again?”

“I think we need to clear some things up first.”

“Uh huh,” he mutters, entirely distracted as he edges closer to me. Tentatively, he cups my cheek, his thumb hovering over my lips. His hands are cool, but the heat in his eyes is blazing.

“Blood red. My favourite colour,” he mutters.

“I’m not sure that’s true, going by your reaction the last time we were together,” I remark, arching a brow.

The whole journey over here I debated bringing it up, but I’m done with letting things slide, and despite the bunch of flowers he sent me, and the gifts, I’m not about to let him off that easily.

“I can assure you, it is,” he says, his voice a deep rumble that seems to slide over my skin and settle between my legs. I press my thighs together, willing myself not to react. “About what happened…”

Again, he hesitates, his nostrils flaring as his pupils widen, eating up the dark brown of his irises.

“Yes?” I prompt, caught between the intensity of his stare and the way his fingers slide into my hair, tugging gently.

“Your blood didn’t turn me off.”

“You weren’t disgusted?” Admittedly, that surprises me considering what happened.

“No, I wasn’t. In fact, the opposite was true. I was so turned on I wanted…”