Page 5 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

“Not so fast,” he says, his hand resting against my thigh as his pinky finger grazes my leg just below the hem of my skirt. “I have something I want to say first.”

“I already told you I wasn’t interested,” I retort, ignoring the fact that my vagina seems very interested indeed. The hussy. I blame it on the champagne.

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” he replies, his gaze dropping to my thigh and his hand grasping it possessively. Not sure why that makes my heart lurch, but it does. It double-lurches when he looks back up at me, his eyes blazing as his hand slowly slides over my knees and down my shin until he eventually clasps my right foot.

“What are you doing?”

“Massaging your feet. They hurt, right?”

My cheeks heat, and that pisses me off, because despite my body quite liking how his thumb digs into the arch of my foot, my head is telling me not to fall for whatever this is. A booty call, clearly, and something I do not understand in the slightest, given the choice of high-calibre women dotted around the bar.

But instead of telling him to get his hands off me, I say, “There are people watching us right now.”

Dorian lifts his hand and clicks his finger, and within seconds, one of the scary-looking men sitting across the other side of the room approaches. He’s tall like Dorian, but less muscular. His dark hair is cut close to his head, military-style. He, too, is wearing a well-cut suit. The man flicks me a look, his piercing blue eyes taking their measure of me and clearly seeing me lacking, given the curl of his lip that slants across his beautiful face.

“Clear the bar. I want everyone out.”

“Dorian, she’s⁠—”

“She has a name, Logan,” Dorian replies, rather menacingly, “And it’s Maud⁠—”

“Actually, it’s Edie Valenti,” I say, shrugging when both men snap their attention to me.

“Edie and I need a moment alone.”

He’s clearly some kind of criminal who’s used to getting his way, because less than a minute later the bar is cleared and we’re alone, and suddenly I don’t feel so brave anymore.

Shit.

Chapter 2

Dorian

“Now that I have you all alone, will you allow me to continue?” I ask, which in itself is fucking remarkable. I don’t ever ask, I take. I have for a long time now.

“Does that happen all the time?” Edie fires back, craning her neck to glance past me at my men waiting outside. The movement exposes her throat, and my gaze sharpens on the vein beneath her skin, the soft rush of her blood a temptation I must ignore.

I can’t drink her blood. Not here, not ever.

“Does what happen all the time?” I ask, entirely distracted, as I flick my gaze to hers. She has pretty eyes, slanted like a cat’s, the colour a deep forest green, flecks of gold glinting in the soft lighting.

She eases back, her expression guarded. “You demand the room be cleared, and everyone does what you say.”

“Yes, but especially when it’s my hotel.”

Her eyes widen. “This is your hotel?”

“Why is that such a surprise?” I find myself asking.

Frankly, I should be putting as much space between us as possible. This woman is unlike anyone else. She’s impervious to my compulsion, which is a colossal problem for her and for me, and begs the question of why I’m still entertaining this conversation.

“Well, to begin with, you’re barely an adult,” she says, waving her hand at my face.

“I find that as insulting as you believing I think you’re old. For the record, I don’t. On the contrary, you’re⁠—”

“Wait a minute. You’re serious. You own this hotel,” she says, interrupting me.

“Yes,” I reply. “And whilst we’re getting everything out in the open, I own Avant Garde Nightclub too.”