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bit, leaning into that phantom touch.
Dorian ran those invisible fingers down her
neck, trailing them along her collarbones.
“Tell me to stay,” he said, and the words
had no warmth, no kindness. “Tell me to stay
with you, if that’s what you want.” His
invisible fingers grew talons and scraped over
her skin. Manon’s throat bobbed. “But you
won’t say that, will you, Manon?” Her
breathing turned jagged. He continued to
stroke her neck, her jaw, her throat, caressing
skin he’d tasted over and over. “Do you know
why?”
When she didn’t answer, Dorian let one of
those phantom talons dig in, just slightly.
She swallowed, and it was not from fear.
Dorian leaned in close, tipping his head
back to stare into her eyes as he purred,
“Because while you might be older, might be
deadly in a thousand different ways, deep