And Charley�master thief, champion of champions, fighter to the death�dropped to her knees, puked in the grass, and promptly passed out.

"Breathe, Charlotte. Just breathe."

Dorian pressed the damp cloth to her forehead, wishing she�d say something. After she�d passed out, he�d carried her inside and cleaned her up, changing out of his own bloody garments and slowly bringing her back to consciousness, only to have her spiral into a screaming panic.

He�d had no other recourse but to compel her, and while the compulsion had silenced her shrieks of terror, the shock was still working its way through her system.

She�d been sitting in the study for well over an hour now, her eyes glassy in the firelight, her breathing shallow and erratic as Dorian knelt before her, willing her to return from the darkness.

He�d never seen anything like it before. Compelling someone to forget a traumatic event�any event�didn�t merely calm their fears or silence their reactions. It literally coerced the mind to write over those memories with new ones, as swiftly and completely as a novelist edits a scene in her story.

"You wandered out behind the property and slipped on the hillside," Dorian said now, repeating the scenario he�d crafted for her earlier. "Gabriel and I heard you calling for help."

What they�d actually heard were her screams; the sheer terror in her voice sent twin bolts of fear and rage through Dorian�s heart. He was already outside looking for her when it happened; Gabriel had arrived at the same moment. The brothers didn�t even speak. They simply acted, instantly eliminating the threat.

When news of the attack reached the manor, Aiden made quick work of clearing out the guests and staff under the pretense of a burst pipe. Gabriel and Malcolm had gone off to search the grounds for Duchanes, while Colin manned the crypts, just in case the vile bastard attempted to break in.

Duchanes. The name burned a fresh path through his chest, igniting something darker than hatred, more vile than loathing. The vampires who�d attacked his woman belonged to that deplorable house. They�d defied all customs and rules, entering his home under false pretenses, using his generosity against him, attacking a guest on his property. And not just any guest, but a woman he�d claimed as his own.

It meant war.

In some ways, Dorian was relieved. Politics was complicated. But war? War simplified things.

Duchanes would suffer. His bloodline would burn. And then, when the last of his house was forgotten and scattered to the winds, Dorian would personally send his enemy into the jaws of hell.

But first, he needed to take care of Charlotte.

"Dorian?" a weak voice called, pulling him back to the moment.

Dropping the cloth, he took her hands and pressed them to his mouth, breathing in her scent. "Thank the gods and the devil both. How are you feeling?"

She blinked down at him from the chair, her eyes still unfocused, her brow furrowed. "I think� I need a drink."

"Of course." He got to his feet and headed for the small bar he kept stocked in the study, pouring her a hefty dose of his favorite scotch. "I don�t have gin on hand, but�"

"It�s fine. Anything is fine." She reached for the glass, then downed it in a few gulps, wincing at the burn.

"Better?" he asked.

She held out the glass for more.

He poured a little less this time. "Careful, love. You�ve only just regained consciousness."

Heeding his advice, she took a measured sip, fighting off a shiver. "What happened?"

Dorian pulled a blanket from another chair and draped it over her shoulders. "You had a fall. Nothing to worry about�just a slip and a good scare." He told her the story he�d invented, sending gentle waves of compulsion through her mind.

"It�s weird," she said. "I remember walking along the path, and seeing Gabriel by the tree, and sitting on the bench by myself. I texted my sister, and then� I don�t know. It�s all a big blank." JrNovels.com