Page 126 of Burn for Her

“If that was Stryx following us,” he said, tapping his knee, “why wouldn’t he have attacked when we were both at our most vulnerable?”

Hell if she knew. “Maybe it wasn’t him? Maybe I’m right and it was just a figment of my imagination.” Now she felt terrible bringing it up. “I should have told you what I saw, even if it turned out to be nothing. My only priority was getting you home. Fuck all else.”

The jet began its descent.

Dorian scrubbed his face with both hands. “I should have put dust around your house. I should have protected us better.”

“Don’t take blame and responsibility for this, Dorian.”

“You are my responsibility,” his voice rose with anger. “I am to blame for this. I know the dangers, and I got sloppy.”

She disagreed. “If anything, I’m to blame. You told me to take us home and I took you to my house. Not yours.”

“And I was too far gone by that point to correct your course,” Dorian seethed. “What kind of mate let’s himself get so low he can’t even protect his woman?”

“Stop,” she jabbed her finger at him. “Don’t do that, Dorian. You were suffering and couldn’t do anything but—”

“Couldn’t do anything,” he said, latching onto those words. “That’s all that matters, Lena. I couldn’t do anything because I’d waited too long.”

The plane landed with a few small bounces.

If she wasn’t allowed to say I’m sorry, he didn’t get a free pass either. For crying out loud! She still wasn’t convinced what she saw was real back there. Besides, Dorian’s curse no longer jeopardized what they had so it was a moot point now. “Doesn’t matter. It’s over and done with.”

“It’s not over,” Dorian stood and stepped away.

Lena followed him. The instant the jet door opened the hot, southern humidity blasted them in the face. They both climbed out of the plane, Lena first. “What did you say?”

“I said, it’s not over.”

They reached the bottom step and Lena snagged Dorian’s arm. “What do you mean? I’ve turned. We’re together. I know we’ll have threats left and right, but at least you’re not going to die from the curse.” Tears stung her eyes because he looked absolutely crestfallen. “Dorian, it’s done. Your curse ended.”

He winced before looking away from her and ran a hand through his hair, destroying its neatness.

Lena’s hackles went up. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He looked back at her and ran a featherlight touch across her brow, sweeping stray hairs from her face. “My body is still blistering and I’m feeling weaker. My curse didn’t lift.”

Chapter 40

He’d lasted this long, here’s hoping he kept going long enough to see Lena come into her full power… first they needed to get this shit with Stryx squared away.

Dorian wished like hell he hadn’t had to tell her about his curse not lifting, but he wasn’t going to lie to her. He also didn’t want her to worry about anything but herself. As a newly made vampire, Lena was still adjusting. Her human side died the instant her vampire life stepped into creation. It was, by far, the fastest turn he’d ever heard of. Almost as if her body had been waiting for it, primed and poised to make the transition. But she still needed time to acclimate.

His smile tightened. He felt like shit. No, he felt cheated. He’d done everything he was supposed to and the curse hadn’t lifted.

“It’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure her.

Dorian had managed to keep his focus locked on Lena and her needs the whole plane ride, but now their little bubble burst. Back home, in vampire territory, with a stalker to go after, it was time the Reaper went to work.

And with Lena safely turned, she would be better equipped to handle anything that came after them. That was at least one bonus for now. Besides, maybe this was a temporary setback because she drained him so much. Maybe this was just par for the course and his curse lifted, it was just taking its good old time fizzling out of his depleted system. His heart latched onto that pathetic splinter of hope. The alternative was too devastating to think about.

Aww hell. Deep down he knew the truth. His curse stuck. He was doomed to die.

What a joke. What a goddamn disaster. He plucked an innocent woman out of her safe life and tossed her into a jungle with predators far older and stronger than she. Now what? He’d soon turn into a crispy Cajun fried pile of useless ash?

Fuck this curse. Fuck this life. Fuck Stryx. Fuck everyone. Fuck everything.

At least he had all his senses back. That was probably the best and worst part. He could protect his mate with all pistons firing, no problem. But he was closer to combusting and instead of frying and dusting out of this existence, blind, deaf, and numb, he’d likely burst into flame with perfect clarity and feel every ounce of agony his curse pelted him with.

---