They Rise at Dusk (Book #1) ✔️

Chapter 35: Truce

My heels clanked against the concrete flooring as I walked through the Club, my heartbeat accelerating with each step. The beat overwhelmed the place, and people were kidnapped by it, forced to move. Red tendrils of smoke danced in the air, meeting and breaking apart. Lights exchanged before my eyes. The music pumped around me – strong, yet sensuous.

Whenever I talked to Dorian, there were things I wanted to prove.

Him and I weren't the same. He was a manipulative, conniving bastard who used people for his own gain. He was a ruthless vampire without empathy for human life.

Maybe I was wrong.

People danced around me, shielding me from view, and I had to elbow my way through the crowd, but I knew exactly where I was going.

Maybe we weren't all that different.

I was a liar too. Manipulative. Conniving.

Our eyes locked from across the club. The red hues exchanged with the golden ones across his face, changing the colour of his eye from deep dark purple to golden blue with each beat. He stopped in the middle of the sentence when he saw me, and the two men standing next to him glanced in my direction confused.

They were both tall and bearded, dressed in dark grey, and they looked like brothers. They were also vampires, and they wanted everyone to know, judging by the fangs peeking behind their thin lips.

Dorian wore a black suit with no tie, the first button of his black shirt loose. There was a brown-coloured drink in his right hand and what appeared to be a joint in his left. He mouthed 'excuse me' to the men around him, but didn't move an inch. Their glances jumping from Dorian to me, they left seconds before I reached him.

Even if I hated to admit it, there was something titillating in the way everyone noticed me because Dorian noticed me. He commanded the room in such a way that everyone was constantly aware of whether he was present, who he talked to, who he looked at.

I stopped before him, too aware of the short black dress I had on. The same dress I wore the day I walked back into his life, demanding to be listened to, obliged. Dorian looked over my outfit shamelessly and raised his eyebrow.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're using this dress to get something from me."

My heart pounded annoyingly against my ribcage.

"I'm surprised you aren't surrounded by strippers." I kept my voice low, half-hoping he wouldn't hear me through the music.

"Did your boyfriend survive?" He asked.

"Yes." I nodded, ignoring the pang in my throat. "Which means he's not my boyfriend anymore."

Dorian looked like he wanted to ask more, his lips parted and he took in a sharp breath, but changed his mind before words left his lips, and switched them to something else, something either safer or more dangerous.

"What are you doing here?"

I bit the inside of my cheek before answering, "We need to talk."

Dorian nodded with slight reluctance, then gestured towards the burgundy-coloured curtains covering the hardwood lacquered door.

"Kindly join me in my stripper area."

Despite myself, I snickered.

Dorian opened the door for me and let me step through. It was his office, and it was empty, but someone had clearly been there. Empty glasses, smudged with lipstick, littered the wooden table, the ashtray was full of cigarette butts, and a silver platter covered with fingertips rested in between the mess. Dorian pushed the empty glasses aside to make room for his half-full one and put the joint in the ashtray. I stared at the leather armchair, remembering the last time I was in this room.