Page 33 of Burn for Her

“So, it’s official? I’m in?”

“I presume you’d like to return tomorrow evening?”

“Correct.”

“I’ll reserve a room for you.” He handed her a black envelope. “Here’s a list of suggestions for your first evening. Fill it out and hand it to the front desk of your hotel. We’ll take care of the rest. A car will pick you up tomorrow evening at eleven.”

No mention of a fee was made tonight. Something in her gut said this was going to cost her more than money, which should concern her. But the bottom line was, Lena was willing to pay any price to get what she craved. Lena had three visits, three chances, to hopefully get whatever this was riding her so hard out of her damn system. She was going to make those three visits count. Big time.

Pain escorted Lena out of the mansion and her driver was at the curb, waiting for her. The instant she was in the backseat, she began poring over the options The Wicked Garden offered. So many “standard services” as well as a variety of “a la carte” options she could request of her host.

Shouldn’t she be at least a little bit scared about what she was getting into? Fuck it. She had zero fear. Plus, Pain made her feel confident, safe, and welcome… which was entirely opposite of that Dom she tried to hook up with a few months ago.

As the car drove off, she vibrated with anticipation.

Tomorrow she’d be back and ready to play.

Chapter 12

The flight back was so hard on him, Dorian was grateful he sent for the jet, if only to spare humans from his unraveling. He was chained to his seat. So fucked up and necessary.

As well as agonizing.

Leaving Lena alone went against his survival instincts and was the hardest thing Dorian had done to date.

It felt like he was being torn in half. He projectile vomited, strained to the point of bending the metal links of his chains, and managed to pop the blood vessels in his eyes with the roars he let out as the jet took to the skies and put distance between him and his best chances of meeting his mate.

It killed him to leave her.

He should have never chased his fate like this. What a tremendous waste of the precious time he had left.

“I can’t believe you got so close and didn’t at least try,” Lucian fumed. “The fuck is wrong with you, Dorian?”

“I can’t do it. I can’t subject her to this life.” Or to me.

This conversation lasted for an hour until they fell into a thick silence of regret and resentment.

When they landed in New Orleans, Dorian wheezed through the eye-watering pain in his chest the whole way back to the House of Death. Had someone driven a stake through his heart? He couldn’t breathe at all. They walked into the mansion together and all Dorian wanted was to go home and be alone.

Lucian wasn’t having it though. “I’m not leaving your side until you can stand upright without stumbling.”

Dorian now had a goal for the night.

They headed into Lucian’s bedroom. On the way, Lucian grabbed a decanter of wine and two glasses from a service cart at the top of the steps.

In the mansion, food, wine, music, blood, and sex were a mere arm’s length away.

“This life isn’t all that bad.” Lucian leaned back, taking a sip from his wine glass. “Stop acting like it sucks to be one of us. We’ve got a good fucking life.”

Lucian was just as edgy as Dorian. It made him feel even worse because the endgame was Dorian’s death, and Lucian would have to mourn another loss in his life.

He didn’t expect Lucian to understand why he’d deny himself the chance at happiness.

“I remember the day I met your scrawny, feral ass.” Lucian drained his glass and slammed it on the table.

Dorian cringed at the accuracy of that description.

“You legit had a bounty on your fucking head. Remember that?”

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