The Marquess (Den of the Fallen Book 2) by Miranda Bridges

Author:Miranda Bridges [Bridges, Miranda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Ethan was so furious it would not surprise him if he instantaneously burst into flames. If the moon had not been overhead, he would have sworn the sun was warming his skin.

He swirled the brandy around in the tumbler, wondering if a vampire could get drunk. Taking a large swallow, he vowed to find out.

Nora’s dainty steps, even light for a vampire, reached his ears. She had been as silent as a tomb on the return to the manor, and he suspected she felt some of his anger was directed at her. She would be correct.

When he’d heard her telepathic summons through the blood bond, his heart had stopped in his chest. He’d known without searching the ballroom that she’d left its safety and was in danger. Seeing the vampire with his hands around her throat had triggered a violence he’d thought long buried.

Her footsteps halted right outside his library, and he could not decide if he wanted her to enter or not. One part of him wanted to throttle her for putting herself in harm’s way, while the other part of him, the more persistent side, wanted to touch her.

Everywhere.

The night he’d kissed her had seared itself onto his brain, branding him with an insatiable need. The strength of it had been as potent as when he’d first experienced the thirst, which was no small thing. It was a wonder he’d not attempted to ravage her again.

“Ethan?” she called from around the corner.

He stayed silent, communicating his ire, but giving her the option to come anyway. It appeared as if he did not have the wherewithal to turn her away.

Her bare feet made no sound as she entered the room. She closed the double doors and pressed herself up against them, looking as if she’d flee any moment. A bare shoulder gleamed in the firelight, and he clenched his unoccupied hand, lest he’d break the tumbler. She was enchanting with her hair unbound, the long strands framing her face and draped over her shoulders.

Even though apprehension oozed from her, she met his gaze with a lifted chin.

“I wish to speak to you,” she said into the quiet.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of wood and flame. He’d only speak when he could be sure it would be without a raised tone. God knew, she needed more than a lecture.

Her gaze roved over him, and a brow arched at the glass in his hand, but she said nothing. Instead, she walked further into the room and crossed her arms while looking down at him in his winged chair. The scent of gardenia hit him, and he inhaled it greedily. This needed to be a brief conversation. He hadn’t even said anything, and yet, he was already feeling the limits of his self-control being tested.

“I know that tonight did not go exactly as planned,” she began, “but all in all, it ended quite satisfactorily.”

“Do you truly believe that?” he asked, eyeing the fading bruises on her throat.

Her shoulders drooped slightly as though in defeat.

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