Page 61 of Burn for Her

Dorian picked up the rickety stool he was forced to always sit in to watch his father work, and he smashed it on the floor. Splintered pieces flew everywhere just as his father kicked down the door.

“You weak little shit.” He stormed over and grabbed Dorian’s arm, forcing him to drop the wooden leg with the sharp, splintered end. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

Dorian raised his other hand, and swung down, piercing his father’s jugular with the paring knife. His father roared in fury and let go. Yanking the knife out of his neck, his father’s laugh rumbled the termite infested shack. “You’ll have to play with bigger weapons if you want to kill a beast like me.”

He lunged forward. Dorian dodged him. For once, his puny size was a plus. Dorian kicked a few embers still sparking in their small hearth and it caught some of the hay on fire.

His father stomped forward, hands out and claws sharp. He swiped across Dorian’s chest and did it again on his back when he spun out to run. The grease caught on fire. It had been splashed everywhere and flames caught quickly.

Smoke filled the shack. His father’s blood loss slowed him down just enough for Dorian to make it to the other side of the burning shack. He grabbed blade after blade, tossing them at his father. Some struck home, others missed their mark. His father roared and broke through the growing smoke.

For as small as their shack was, it now felt too big. It should be burning faster than this.

Dorian’s legs were knocked out from under him, and he went airborne. Slamming on his back, the arrow shoved in deeper, snapping the shaft, and he smacked his head hard enough to blackout for a second. His father’s hands clamped down on his ankles and every single uneven floorboard hammered his spine while he was dragged to the center of the room.

His father was a bloodied mess, his eyes blackened with rage. Slamming his fists down, he broke several of Dorian’s ribs at once.

He’d have howled in agony if he could breathe.

Smoke thickened. Flames ate the walls and spilled across the floor, consuming everything it touched. Like a ravenous monster, the fire devoured the bed, the furniture…

The evidence.

Dorian’s fate became crystal clear in that moment. If he distracted his father long enough, he’d burn. His father was compulsive. He could get so fixated on one thing he’d let the world around him fade out of existence. That’s how he worked. One-track mind. Devoted obsession…

But in order to keep his father here, Dorian had to stay too. He had to burn with his father…

Dorian coughed and gagged against the smoke that no longer filled his lungs. The water in the shower had turned to ice again. On his hands and knees, water still spraying down his back, he heaved and sucked in hot, steamy air and water. “I should have burned…”

Turning his gaze upwards, he stared at Lena and wished fate wasn’t such a cruel bitch. Lena deserved better than him. She shouldn’t be here. But… he couldn’t let her go. It was impossible to even consider it now.

Just like his father… he now had a one-track mind. Lena. The rest of the world faded into nothingness. Lena. She was his new obsession and Dorian was devoted, one-hundred and ten percent. Lena.

“I am my father’s son,” he whispered before passing out.

Chapter 21

Lena’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. After Dorian rambled on and on about his father—who had to be the devil—and victims and arson, he collapsed and had remained that way for the past ten minutes.

Once Lucian carried him out of the shower, sopping wet, and stripped him out of his clothes, Lena watched from a safe distance while Lucian dropped Dorian onto his bed. Sighing, the vampire ran a hand down his face and took one last look at Dorian before gesturing to Lena that they should leave the room.

“Is that all true? Did he murder someone?’

“It’s not how you think,” Lucian blew out a big exhale and pointed towards the kitchen. “You want some coffee?”

“I want answers.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If all of this is real, and I’m not even saying I believe it is, but if it is, then I need to know what I’m getting into with Dorian. No,” she said, waving her hand in the air, “I deserve to know.”

“You’re right.” Lucian cocked his head to the side. “Soooo we’re gonna need something stronger than coffee for this.”

Lena’s hand instinctively went up to her neck to protect it.

“Relax.” Lucian chuckled. “I meant hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?” What the hell?

“I’d prefer whisky, but Dorian doesn’t drink. He doesn’t have any booze in this house, so hot chocolate it is.”

“Vampires drink hot chocolate?”

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