Page 25 of Burn for Her

“Then don’t leave me hanging. Find her and be done with this. It’s time to put yourself first for just a minute, and if anyone can understand that it’s Malachi. Just look at what happened to him.”

Yeah, they still hadn’t figured out how Malachi managed to stay alive. Regardless of how insane vampires thought him, he was still powerful and breathing—even after all of his suffering. Dorian couldn’t imagine what must be going through the king’s mind all day and night but seeing how often Malachi stayed fixated on his massive mirror, Dorian could relate to the compulsive obsessiveness. It wasn’t fun. It was taxing.

Necessary.

“This still feels wrong, somehow,” he grumbled, even as he sped faster down the road.

“It’s because you’re not used to putting yourself first.”

“I’ve been selfish before.” Dorian clenched his teeth. “And it didn’t end well.”

Lucian stuffed his phone in his pocket and scrubbed his face. “I won’t go through this with you again. That wasn’t selfishness, it was survival. Same concept applies now. Besides, you were doing our society a favor when you did what you did, and no one will say otherwise.”

Except me, he thought. “Survival looks a lot like murder then.”

“Can’t argue there. But back then, would you have rather been on the other end of that blade?”

I was… many times. But Dorian didn’t say it because conjuring those memories made him sick. Pulling into the airport drop off zone, he slammed the car in park and hopped out.

“You should take the private jet,” Lucian argued.

“It would only raise flags. Everyone knows I’d never use the jet unless it was a dire situation.” They both knew Dorian handled everything with an eerie level of calmness. Going against his personality and taking the jet would only lead to suspicion and plotting among the other Houses while Dorian’s back was turned. “My circumstance and sudden disappearance could easily put the King in great danger while I’m gone.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Lucian groused. “I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that.” The lapse in judgment was excusable—Lucian was going through his own horrible shit lately.

“You can’t let anyone know. Understand me? If word gets out that I’m weakened and preoccupied, our enemies will move on the House, and once I find her, I can’t protect myself from Savag-Ri while also concealing what I truly am to her. So, getting attacked isn’t going to help me and will also put my mate in danger.”

“Her name is Lena.” Lucian walked around his car to get in the driver’s seat. “And I’ve got your ass covered, Dorian. Don’t worry. Now go.”

Dorian numbly held his duffel while Lucian drove off and left him at the airport with nothing but a prayer and a name.

Lena. How fucking beautiful was that?

Lena. Her name was like a satin ribbon twirling in his mind, binding his thoughts and keeping him from completely unraveling.

Lena.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, Dorian stared at the screen and enlarged the screenshots so he could see the words better, something he should have tried earlier had he any sense in him. Finally able to read the big ass text on his screen, a smile crept across his face.

Lucian just sent him everything he needed to find his mate.

Chapter 9

Dorian thought he knew torture. Considered himself an expert on the matter. Dare he say, a master. Torture was a constant, aching, biting hunger which had no hope of being satisfied.

That was nothing compared to this fresh Hell he found himself in now.

His plane wasn’t due to take off for another six hours due to a mechanical malfunction. He barely got here by the skin of his teeth, trying to make the flight in time, only to be grounded on the runway. Great. Just fucking great.

The miracle of getting a ticket hadn’t been a miracle at all. With the excuse of “running an errand,” Reys hacked the system for him and overrode the airlines database, getting Dorian a seat on the first plane to Savannah, Georgia. Reys most likely thought it was an errand for the king. Dorian never corrected him. He felt guilty but not guilty enough to come clean. At least not yet.

Now karma was biting him in the ass.

Damnit, he should have taken the House of Death’s private jet. He could land in Georgia and hunt down his woman in the same amount of time it was going to take for this hunk of metal to get fixed and take flight.

Damnit, these seats were too narrow. No leg space either. He was confined and trapped.

A baby started crying behind him.

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