Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)

  Dorian approaches me eagerly, bathing my neck and ear with praise and kisses. The public display of affection is uncomfortable at first, with having such an audience, but I let myself enjoy the attention. He wants to show me just how much I mean to him, and why should I stop him?

  “Ok, ok, lovebirds! Are we all ready to go?” Morgan says over the roar of chatter. We all nod and head out to the van.

  James has offered to chauffeur us in the van tonight. However, when we step outside, we are all floored by the sight of an SUV limousine. I immediately look at Dorian, who nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. He is just full of surprises today.

  “Whoa! Now this is how you party in style!” Miguel exclaims checking out the exterior. I’ve gathered that it’s a stretch Hummer but that’s as far as my car expertise goes.

  After a barrage of enthusiastic gratitude, which Dorian humbly accepts, we all clamber in excitedly. The interior is incredibly plush, stocked with champagne and enough room for a party of 20. I’ve only been in a limo once, and that was sharing it with 12 other rowdy teens at prom. Half of them I either didn’t know or didn’t care for but it was an experience nonetheless.

  Morgan pops the champagne with ease and lets it bubble and flow into the flutes. I go to assist her and we giggle like schoolgirls, attempting to fill each glass without spilling a drop. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Aurora slide next to Dorian while the guys play with all the limo’s gadgets and secret compartments. She is whispering to him, something in Greek it sounds, and I will myself to play it cool. Just two old friends catching up, I tell myself.

  Then her speech changes, as if speaking in a different dialect. Maybe a different language altogether. However, this language I can understand. At least bits and pieces. I have never known any language other than English so I am secretly floored by this revelation.

  Unfortunately, that is not the most surprising factor. What she murmurs to him- the scattered words I am able to make out- that is what leaves me breathless.

  “Safe…the Dark Light…Kill her.”

  Then Dorian coolly turns to his old flame and companion and utters in this unnamed tongue, “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  My head is dizzy with horror and confusion. Morgan’s mouth is moving but I hear nothing. Just muffled noises over the rapid pounding of my heart roaring in my head. I concentrate on controlling the furious heaving of my chest, yet my breaths are shallow and labored. I grab a glass of champagne and down it, attempting to wash away the bitter taste of shock and betrayal. It does nothing to ease the ache in my heart.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Dorian knows about me. Worst of all, he’s teamed up with Aurora, and it sounds as if they’re planning my demise. How did this happen? Just over an hour ago, Dorian made tender, passionate love to me. He’s been so attentive and generous, not at all like someone who wishes me dead. Why would he? What would he have to gain from my death? I must have heard wrong. Obviously, I do not understand whatever language they were murmuring. I am mistaken. Maybe a little bit drunk from the champagne. And even if I think I heard correctly, I could just ask him. He told me he would always be forthcoming. But am I ready for that dose of honesty? And if they find out that I do, in fact, understand their secret language, could that put me in even more danger?

  What am I thinking? This is Dorian. In all the compromising positions he’s had me in, if he wanted me dead, I’d be dead. All those times he’s had me bent over, naked, his hand clutching my neck, pulling my hair… He could have easily ended me then when I was exposed and vulnerable. Why put it off? I am defenseless and he has already proven to be a much more powerful force than me. Dorian wouldn’t do that. He cares about me; he told me that no one is as important to him than me. He said he didn't want anyone else. I have to believe that’s true. I need to believe it.

  “You ok, Gabs?” Morgan eyes me suspiciously. She refills the empty flute in my shaking hand.

  I plaster on a strained smile. “Yeah, just thinking I should have eaten more at lunch. Feeling a little lightheaded. Probably just from the motion of the limo.”

  “Mmm hmm, that or the motion of that bed Dorian had rockin’!” she giggles. I give her a sharp look. “Oh, relax. No one heard. But I’m sure we could all imagine. Ooooh, look at that ice on your neck! Don’t tell me, another gift from Dorian?” she squeals, taking the intricate pendent in her palm. “It’s gorgeous!”

  “Yes, it is. Thanks,” I say quietly.

  Morgan looks back at Dorian, who is gazing out the dark tinted window thoughtfully. “Hey Dorian, you don’t have any brothers, do you?” Morgan says with a sly wink. Miguel’s eyes flash with jealousy.

  “Actually I do. Not sure he’d be your type though,” he replies.

  Morgan smiles slyly, “Honey, hot, rich and sexy is always my type. And if he’s anything like you, we’ll get along just fine.”

  I honestly think Miguel’s head will explode if she keeps this up. She’s toying with him, trying to see what he’s made of. Morgan is a master manipulator of men, and her fun with Miguel is a welcomed distraction from my dilemma.

  Dorian notices the heated glances between Miguel and Morgan and doesn’t take the bait. Instead he fixes his intense gaze on me. Under his stare, the feelings of doubt and betrayal from minutes ago begin to abandon me. I almost can’t remember what instilled my confusion. I grab two glasses of champagne and carefully make my way to him, desperately trying to salvage the evening and my jovial mood.

  I take a sip of champagne from one glass and then hand it to him with a sultry smile. He looks at me musingly with a raised eyebrow and receives it, taking a sip of his own where my lipgloss has left a shimmery print. I’m doing my best to remain cool and guarded, as he calls me, in an attempt to keep him out of my head. How did I get myself into this? How did I get involved with a man so extraordinarily intuitive to my thoughts and feelings? But considering what I am, is there really any other choice?

  “Something on your mind, baby?” Dorian murmurs to me silkily. His voice is like melted hot caramel; it simply oozes off the tongue.

  “Just…thoughtful. Glad you’re here. Happy,” I say meekly.

  And I mean it. Dorian has made this shell of what I thought was life worth living. Losing him would mean returning to mediocrity, always yearning for something more. I can’t go back to that. Ever.

  Dorian gives me a sexy half-smile. “That’s all I want- to make you happy. Always.” He twists his finger around one of my coiled tendrils.

  “Do you mean that? Do you honestly want to be here with me for no other reason?” I ask him with pleading eyes. They are willing him to tell me the truth.

  He furrows his brow and cocks his head to one side quizzically. “Yes. I mean that. I want to be here because I have feelings for you. Deep feelings. Feelings that scare me yet excite me. Feelings that I have tried to avoid for many, many years. Feelings I thought I'd never have the ability to feel.”

  Dorian’s explanation floors me, and I know without a shadow of doubt that he is here for me. I have no reason to distrust him; he’s shown me nothing but gentleness and generosity. I can’t be sure of what I heard, but I do know that Dorian cares for me. He’s shown me in more ways than one. I’d be a fool to discount his actions and ignore what’s in my heart, right?

  “I feel the exact same way for you,” I breathe. “That and more.”

  Dorian plants a kiss on my lips and I instantly feel the doubt and apprehension fall away from me upon contact. The unknown language, he and Aurora’s staggering conversation- it all suddenly seems like a distant memory.

  His lips are forced to abandon mine when the limo comes to an abrupt halt. We’re here. I can make out the bright marquee, a black and white sign simply stating Shade. It’s very chic and modern, much like the Luxe salon in Colorado Springs. Yes, Dorian has his stamp all over this. The first thing I notice upon exiting is the sound of saxophones, drums, piano, and guitar. There’s a live band playing. Then the su
mptuous aroma of food causes my stomach to growl, confirming my hunger. Dorian grabs my hand and leads our party inside, breezing past security and the crowd of freezing people huddled around outdoor heaters awaiting entrance.

  A handsome young man dressed in a black suit approaches our group, shaking Dorian’s hand enthusiastically. He introduces himself as Brian and tells us that he, along with the attentive staff at Shade, will be taking care of anything we need this evening. As we hand over our coats for hanging, I get an opportunity to marvel at the impressive interior. The place is amazing; with its dark cushioned walls, contemporary furniture and metallic hued tapestries, it could easily rival any hot NYC lounge. I’ve personally never seen anything like it and I instantly smell the eroticism, mixed with delectable gourmet fare, wafting throughout the swanky building.

  Brian leads us to a table that I’m assuming is reserved for us, being that it is intricately set with seven table settings. Dorian sits at the head of the table, of course, while I take the seat to his right, Morgan grabbing the spot next to me. We can see the band playing from where we sit, and the tunes are intoxicating, putting us all in the mood for good food, libations, and conversation.

  “I hope you all don’t mind, but I have arranged a special tasting menu so we could try a little bit of everything. But if there’s anything you don’t eat or are allergic to, please let Brian know immediately.” Then he turns to me, winks, and quietly murmurs, “I know you’re hungry. It won’t be long, little girl.” Geez, is there anything he doesn’t know?

  Moments later, servers bring us course after course of Mediterranean and Asian-fusion cuisine. Everything is ridiculously delicious, and I relish in the fact that I get to experience just a little piece of Dorian and his culture. A variety of wines are served to accent each dish and by the fourth course, showcasing an array of Greek meat and seafood dishes, I’m convinced that I’ll burst. But of course, there’s dessert, and my Dorian loves dessert. He doesn’t go easy on us either. While the boys are loving the endless stream of food, I am secretly praying that my stomach isn’t protruding. Morgan and Aurora have slowed down as well.

  “Dorian, I can’t eat this!” I say, my eyes taking in the individual dessert platters of several miniature confections. His love for sweets makes him seem so young and incredibly cute, and I think about the time we had a tickling war with whipped cream. Then my mind wanders to when I was his dessert and heat quickly floods my cheeks and the apex of my thighs.

  Dorian gives me a wicked smile as if he’s recalling the same memory, and licks his lips. He scoops up a tiny bit of his chocolate mousse and holds it out to my lips. I roll my eyes playfully and take it into my mouth slowly, making sure to flick my tongue out onto the spoon first. He likes this; something about feeding me clearly arouses him. I don’t deny trying to make a show of it either.

  After we are all sated and clearly a bit tipsy from the wine, Brian leads us to an upstairs area, equally chic and alluring. Something about its dark walls and furniture accented with just a hint of metallic color gives it a sultry, sexy feel. A DJ is spinning all the latest hits and sharply dressed men and women are on the dance floor. Again, we walk to a special section reserved for us, and Dorian does not fail to impress. Leather sofas, oversized plush pillows, teakwood accent tables, luminous candles and many bottles of chilled champagne and spirits await us. Now this is a VIP section!

  I barely have a chance to sip my glass of bubbly before Morgan grabs my hand, leading me to the dance floor with Aurora in tow. We’re all feeling good, and I am even being friendly with Aurora as if we’re old girlfriends. We giggle and dance to several songs as the men look on and chat idly. I can see they’re all getting along, Dorian and Jared included. This is how it should be. I should be able to have all my friends together, having a great time, doing what normal young adults do. Last month, I couldn’t stand being so normal. As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for.

  By 2 A.M. my feet are aching, I’m beyond tipsy, Morgan is flat out drunk and stumbling and James has made a new friend. After collecting our coats, we head back to the limo, conveniently waiting on the curb in the front. James invites his new Ms. Right Now back to the house and she joins us on our ride home, clearly awestruck. I secretly hope she’s not feigning interest in James because she thinks he’s wealthy judging by tonight’s overflow of champagne and the limo. She will be sadly disappointed when she realizes he’s a broke, soon-to-be recent college grad. But it’ll serve her right if she sleeps with him with hopes of monetary gain.

  When we get home, Miguel helps a giggling Morgan to her room and shuts the door behind them. Looks like James won’t be the only one getting lucky. Aurora and Jared had been making out the entire ride home and they continue their uncomfortable display all the way to their room. Which leaves Dorian and me.

  “Zip me down?” I say innocently once we’re in the confines of our room. Our room- I like the sound of that.

  Dorian licks his lips and coolly walks towards me. He positions himself behind me and zips down my dress slowly, leaving soft kisses on my shoulders and back once they’re exposed. I shiver at the feel of his caress.

  “How about a dip?” he whispers in my ear.

  I turn my head to eye him suspiciously. “Did you bring your swim trunks?”

  Dorian gives me his devilish grin and bites his bottom lip. “No.”

  “Then absolutely.”

  We strip out of our clothing excitedly, cackling like naughty teenagers. Once we’ve wrapped ourselves in towels and Dorian has grabbed a chilled bottle from the fridge along with two glasses, we race to the hot tub outside. This is risqué behavior for me; I’ve never been one to be outwardly affectionate or sexual with anybody. But I can’t deny that I’m aroused at the prospect of getting caught skinny-dipping.

  Dorian sets down the bottle of champagne and glasses then lets his towel drop to the ground, exposing his beautifully chiseled body. I gawk in amazement at how comfortable he is stark naked, especially outdoors in the freezing cold. He climbs into the Jacuzzi gracefully then turns to face me with a beckoning hand. I stand nervously clutching my towel around me, suddenly feeling shy.

  “Come on, you’ll warm up as soon as you get in the water,” Dorian says soothingly. Reluctantly, I let my towel fall and take his hand, letting him pull me in. God, I hope none of my friends are looking out the window! They’d get a glimpse of more than just one full moon.

  The water feels great, and the bubbly jets cause my sensitive areas to tingle out of control. Dorian fills our champagne glasses, and I gladly sip mine to ease my apprehension. After playful banter and flirting, Dorian takes the glass from my hand and sets it down with his. He positions my body onto one of the powerful jets and the water shoots up fiercely, making me squirm. I gasp at the sensation as Dorian looks on with hooded eyes. He stands between my open thighs, massaging them slowly. His hands find their way to my slippery wetness, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through my body. His eyes stay on mine, like always, burning deep with desire. He’s lips are moving as if he’s murmuring something, but I can’t hear it over the rapidly bubbling water and the sounds of my own pleasure.

  Then it begins- the prickling little shockwaves coursing through every inch of my body. It’s as if Dorian has a hundred magical fingers and they are stimulating me all at once. I try to hold my breath in fear that my moans will alert our occupied friends but I can’t help myself. I’m moaning wildly, panting, writhing. I can’t stop it, I have to let go. Yet when I do, ecstasy continues to overcome me in intense, violent waves. A never-ending orgasm. Only when I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head roll back do the sensations finally cease.

  Once coherent thought has returned to me, I lift my head up and look at a smirking Dorian. He seems satisfied with himself, cocky even. I think to say something smart to him but before I can, he spreads my legs wider and enters me with a swift thrust. I cry out his praises as he begins his slow assault. The combination of the hot water and the streaming
jets adds a new level of pleasure. I link my ankles together around his waist to pull him deeper into me, and he groans his approval. My hands clutch his back and shoulders ferociously as Dorian’s measured deep strokes grow faster and harder. Water sloshes all around us, causing my wet tresses to stick to my face and neck. I’m bucking against him, pulling his hair, moaning, savoring his tongue on my neck and shoulders. I feel his fingers dig into my flesh as he pumps himself in and out of me and the sting only heightens my arousal. I like the pain; I need it. This pain that Dorian gives me makes me feel so alive, so vital.

  As if reading my thoughts, Dorian digs himself deeper into me, and I can feel the strain in his body as he tries to fight against his own orgasm. He doesn’t want to stop but it’s pulling him under. He bites down onto my shoulder, his teeth leaving little indentions in my skin. It’s so intensely erotic, I don’t even try to stifle my carnal cries. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I know that they make it harder for him to resist; my arousal provokes him more than anything else. Seeing him so undone does the same for me, and I will myself to slow down. But it’s too late. The telltale sign of his climax, the substantial swelling inside of me, pushes me over the edge, and we both plunge into dangerously thrashing dark waters.

  I gasp Dorian’s name, followed by a series of hoarse expletives, resting my head on his hard shoulder. His face is buried in my neck, trying to regain his own breath through gritted teeth. I secretly relish his vulnerability in this moment, and the pinkish haze of our combined auras makes this scene so serene. I’ve tried to ignore them, and honestly, it freaked me out when I first saw it. But now it’s simply become another nuisance of my new life. The upside of it is that I can read people’s moods and proceed with them accordingly. Almost like reading their minds. I wonder if Dorian has the same ability, being that he always seems to know my thoughts. I store the question away for later, not wanting to spoil the tender moment.