Dorian brought me into his bathroom and set me on top of the counter by the sink, his eyes focusing on the drops of blood from my nose that had accidentally landed on his suit jacket.
With crimson-colored irises, he quickly stripped the jacket off, nostrils flaring when he tossed it to the other side of the room. It left him in a white dress shirt, the buttons straining against his deep breaths.
“I…I need you to put this against your nose,” he ordered, holding out a towel. “Stop the bleeding.”
I held the towel to my nose, watching as Dorian began to pace the length of the bathroom. His hands tugged at the ends of his hair, the slicked strands now sticking up haphazardly in an alluring way. Dorian looked wild, utterly feral for a reason I couldn’t understand.
Was he that furious with
