He laps up every drop of me, through multiple waves of orgasm that drift into trickling aftershocks. My body jerks and trembles as it settles into passion-induced fatigue. He crawls up my body, kissing me still, murmuring his praise against my skin.
That’s a good girl.
Shhh, it’s ok, baby.
You taste so good.
When I feel the silken strands of his hair against my nipples, I know he has come back to me. He gives each nipple a soft kiss before lifting his head, the longer layers of his jet-black hair falling into those smoldering, ice blue eyes. One side of his mouth crooks into a satisfied grin, pleased at how thoroughly he’s shattered my body. When he speaks, I nearly quake at the sound of his voice, causing a low, feral hiss to escape between my teeth.
“You’re a vicious little creature, aren’t you, baby girl?”
I AWAKE TO sunlight, warmth and the smoothest bare chest in the world. The only chest I’ll ever need to feel from now until eternity.
We’re on a bed of fluffy pillows and down comforters. The walls are bare, aside from vividly colored oil paintings that look hauntingly familiar. Outside of that splash of color, everything is white—the linens, the rug, the drapes. And there are three large picture windows, welcoming bright sunlight to fill the room.
“Where are we?” I whisper, not ready to give up the comfort of Dorian’s arms just yet. I breathe in his scent, committing it to memory. Forcing my mind to erase all remembrance of anyone or anything else.
He gently rakes his fingers through my matted hair. “Niko’s house. I chose the white room for us. I sometimes forget that you are not like us—you need light just as much as you need darkness.”
I swallow, my tongue suddenly feeling too thick. “How did I get here?”
“I carried you.”
I close my eyes and snuggle in closer to him, inhaling his fresh, clean scent once more. Silence stretches between us, and I let it. I don’t know what to say…what to feel. I had just been dreaming of his brother. And not just any dream at that. An earth-shattering, orgasmic dream that still had my legs trembling and the inside of my thighs dripping with lust.
I don’t get it. There is nothing sexual between Niko and me. Sure, I think he’s gorgeous and charming and honest in a way that I can accept. I won’t deny we have a connection on the magical front as well. But whatever that connection is, it’s solely platonic. He’s Dorian’s brother and a manwhore to his core. There’s nothing he could give me that Dorian already hasn’t.
Fucking Dark elements.
It’s bad enough that I have Stavros trying to worm his way into my secret fantasies whenever he wants to rattle my cage a bit. Now Niko? There’s no way he would do this to me. He’s always made it crystal clear that I belong with Dorian and that he has no interest in the complications of a romantic relationship, especially with me. We’re friends, sometimes even closer. It’s like our souls recognize something in each other. Like in a past life, they shared a common bond. A common love… or loss.
I sigh, exasperated with trying to sift through all the inner workings of my subconscious. I turn over and give my attention to Dorian, the man I love. The man who loves me, even though he sometimes has a shitty way of showing it.
“I’m tired of fighting,” I say, resigning all thoughts of Niko and focusing on the real dilemma.
He smiles crookedly, engrossing himself in twirling a lock of my hair around his finger. “I wasn’t aware we were fighting.”
“Well, I’m tired of being pissed off at you. You know that you hurt me. And I know that me shutting you out hurts you. Let’s stop hurting one another, ok?”
He kisses the crown of my head and squeezes me tighter to his body. “Ok. But Gabriella?”
“Yes?”
“You talk in your sleep.”
I ROAM THE halls of Niko’s vast mansion, eyes wide with wonder. It’s beautiful. Breathtaking, really. The famous works of great artists adorn the walls, things that should only be housed in museum exhibits encased in protective glass. There are sculptures and elaborately dressed vases in every corner, adding pops of color and life. I’m in awe of all the beauty I’m immersed in, so much so that I feel out of place. I can’t imagine why Niko would ever abandon such an incredible home.
I wipe away a tear when I come across a particularly striking piece featuring a mother and a child. Donna would have loved this house. She would have traipsed through these halls and fussed over every exotic flower and antique trinket. I couldn’t imagine her ever wanting to leave. I smile, despite my tears and the pain tightening my chest. If it weren’t for her, I never would have been able to appreciate beauty like this. I wouldn’t even know how to recognize it.
“Enjoying yourself?” Dorian smiles as I make my way into the equally stunning kitchen. The back wall is made entirely of glass, letting bright light filter into the already brilliantly-lit space.
“This place is unbelievable. I wouldn’t expect your brother to have a house like this,” I reply, sliding into a seat at the marble counter.
Dorian is at the stove, whipping up something that smells so amazing that my stomach rumbles in response. “A place like what?” he asks, chopping fresh herbs to add to a bowl of crispy roasted potatoes. Where the hell did all this food come from?
“This…beautiful and elegant. I totally expected something more like a frat house or a sleek, modern bachelor pad filled with wall-to-wall gadgets and games. Hell, I’ve been looking for the stripper pole.”
Dorian smirks and continues to prepare the food, squeezing fresh lemon over the potatoes before whisking a large bowl of eggs. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? We were both raised to have a deep appreciation for the arts. And I think the Greek Revival architecture found down here remind him of home. Nikolai is much more traditional than one would expect. It’s understandable that you would expect something more…deviant.”
My face flames and I drop my gaze, studying the road map of lines etched into the marble counter. “Dorian, about this morning…”
I lift my gaze just as he holds up a hand and shakes his head. “No explanation necessary. You can’t control your dreams, I know that. You and Niko are friends. It’s normal to think about people you care about on a subconscious level.”
I stare at him, stunned. I totally expected a different, more rage-filled reaction. “Really?”
“Really,” he nods. “We’ve agreed to stop hurting each other, and I want to try to overcome these unconventional feelings of…doubt and jealousy.” He grimaces as if even admitting it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to feed my girl a meal.”
I watch my beautiful prince as he moves gracefully throughout the kitchen. “Your girl?” I giggle. Something so mundane and ordinary seems comical coming from Dorian.
“I’m trying to keep up with the times. Wouldn’t want you to feel as if you were with an ancient artifact,” he jibes, turning to wink at me.
When he finishes cooking, he serves me a heaping plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, crispy potatoes and buttered rye bread. “What about everyone else?” I ask, wondering how the hell he expects the two of us to eat all this.
“Morgan is asleep, Alex is in the library, and Niko went into the city. It’s just us for now.”
Just us. God, that sounds good.
Dorian makes good on his word and spoon-feeds me nearly every bite. And when we’ve polished off our brunch, he brings over a bowl of fresh fruit and cream.
“I’m going to be big as a house with you, you know that right?” I say before he slides a cream-tipped strawberry between my lips.
“Even if that were possible, I wouldn’t care. I like feeding you. I like taking care of you. It’s one of the things I missed the most when we were apart.” He puts the remaining bit of strawberry in his mouth and bites, juice dribbling from his lips. I catch the nectar with a finger and suck it off slowly, as he watches intently with hooded eyes.
“Even if th
at were possible?” I ask, grabbing a slice of melon and offering it to him. Dorian sucks it from my fingertips, letting his tongue slide over my extended digits.
“Your body will remain as it is. You’ll be free from change, disease, old age. Using magic will exhaust your human form, however you can replenish it with the elements. Or…” He turns his head, but not before I see the regret in his eyes.
“Or?” I ask, urging him to continue.
With a huff of resignation, Dorian looks at me. “Breathing another will satisfy small needs. But killing…it’s like nourishment to us. When we take a soul, we take their magic. It’s like a Thanksgiving meal in comparison to a snack. And once you do it—once you end a life by taking it inside of you—it’s hard to stop wanting that feeling again. That sensation of sheer bliss filling you, sustaining you.”
“Which is why we should hope she never has to face that,” a dangerously deep voice says from the entrance of the kitchen.
Alexander strides into the room, hard, cold eyes fixed on Dorian, silently admonishing. “Troubling Gabriella with tales of addiction are hardly appropriate for such a young soul. We should be teaching her to control her powers, not giving her one more thing to worry about.”
I open and close my hands in front of me. “Well…teach me. There’s so much I need to learn. I don’t want to kill anyone, but I need to protect myself and my loved ones.”
“I know,” Alex remarks, sliding an ancient, leather-bound book in front of me. “But before we get to that, you must learn what you’re dealing with.”
I gently touch the worn, brown cover and it sizzles under my fingertips. “What is it?” I ask, drawing my hand back. “And why is it trying to burn me?”
“It chronicles the history of all the royal Dark houses, listing their special gifts and functions in the monarchy. Since it is bound by Dark magic and you are half Light, there may be an unpleasant effect when you touch it.”
I slowly press a finger to the cover once more, absorbing the sting. He’s right—it’s uncomfortable. But I refuse to be beat by a damn book. I cringe, but holdfast, sliding my hand across the leather. If there’s valuable information in this that will help us—help me—defeat the Dark, then a little burn isn’t going to stop me.
I scan the thin, yellowed pages, hungry for knowledge, soaking in as much as my mind can process. Alex and Dorian watch me intently, still as statues. Maybe they’re afraid I’ll stumble across something that’ll have me running and screaming for the hills. Or maybe they’re worried about me finding out the truth about how deep their depravity goes.
“So the Algea are known to invoke feelings of extreme pain, sorrow and grief?” I ask, not bothering to look up from the text.
“Yes,” Alex answers. “They can manipulate the darkness of mourning, bringing tremendous suffering to both the mind and body.”
“Their prey would be so grief-stricken that they would drown in their tears. Literally choking to death on their sorrow,” Dorian adds, a solemn inflection in his voice.
I look up at the both of them, a perplexed frown lining my forehead. “But they weren’t always that way, right? Their lineage was created after the Dark were corrupted. Like all of you.”
Dorian nods. “Correct. When we lost the Divine’s favor, all of the Dark were stripped of their righteous names and cast away. The royals fled to what is now known as Greece, and then created eight castes. From those families, a new order was formed, spawning a darker, evil type of magic.”
“In that time, Greece was nearly overrun by the Dark, marking what human textbooks have deemed the Dark Ages. But as your history has indicated, there were centuries of war, causing the decline of the Greek Empire,” Alex adds.
“The Light and the Dark?” I ask, fascination shining in my eyes.
“Yes,” he replies. “The Divine powers have been enlisting humans to fight their wars for many, many years in order to create a diversion. The Light fought long and hard to restore order to this world, and many souls—mortal and immortal—were lost.”
“But wait—the Roman Empire won, right?” I ask, trying to recall my high school history lesson. Geez, I should’ve paid more attention.
“Right,” Alex replies. “Although, the Light may have been able to take back most of Greece and save the land and its people from further destruction, the eight families moved underground, gaining numbers, and dabbling in magic that was forbidden in this world and beyond. Their corruption whispered in the ears of man, urging them to explore their illicit wants and desires. See, this was the Dark’s plan all along. Not to win and overtake the Light and all their power. But to stalk in the shadows, and contaminate the humans, influencing them to do their dirty work for them.”
I take a beat to take it all in. Wow. What other monumental events in history were works of the Divine powers? What other lies have humans been told, only to be pawns in a much bigger chess game?
Head spinning with questions, and hungry for so much more, I look back down at the book, reading the pages dedicated to the house of Apatē, rulers of lies and deceit. They were known for playing mind tricks, creating harmful illusions for their victims until they went mad. I shiver, imaging how it must feel to not have control over your mind. To be completely at the mercy of such deep-rooted evil.
By the time I get to Mīsos, who spread the Dark seed of hatred, realization finally clicks into place. “Holy shit…the humans were infected with Dark magic. What if…what if history is repeating itself? What if someone is trying to create a diversion that will work to cause mass hysteria, only so they can move into a new territory?”
Dorian narrows his eyes, tipping his head to one side. “It’s absolutely possible, but nothing like this has happened in many centuries. The Dark like to remain a mystery, forever hidden in the shadows. And why would they be coming after us?”
I shake my head. “Not us. Me. I was meant to restore the balance between the Light and the Dark. This plan was in motion long before I ascended. And now…now I’m just in the way.”
“I think you’re on to something, Gabriella,” Alex says gravely. “With you, Stavros could quickly demolish the opposition, using your power to weaponize humans. Without you, he would meet too much resistance, even from his own kind. They may have power and numbers, but they don’t have the Divine.”
“Which is exactly why we have to stop Daddy Dearest before he tries to kill everyone Gabs has ever known,” a smooth voice chimes in from behind us. Niko steps into view looking as dapper and sharply dressed as always. The dark circles under his eyes are completely gone, and his skin is smooth and bright. He must’ve gone into the city to replenish. Remembrance tugs at me, but I bite it down, letting fear override my feral desires.
“He’s trying to break her down, make her beg for his mercy. You’re the Divine’s golden child. Stavros knows he can’t actually kill you directly, so he’s trying to destroy your spirit. He’s betting on you giving up once you don’t have anyone left.”
Kill everyone I’ve ever known?
My friends, what’s left of my family…Oh my God. No one is safe around me. And even if there was a way to protect the people I love, what’s stopping Stavros from going after innocent people to get my attention? Shit, he could demolish an entire city block with a snap of his fingers if he wanted to.
“What do we do?” I whisper, eyes wide with terror.
Niko looks to the other Warlocks around the counter, mirroring their murderous expressions before giving me a stiff nod. “We kill him first.”
I STUDY EACH page of that ancient book until my eyes hurt, hoping to absorb as much as I can in an attempt to stay one step ahead of the enemy. When I have questions about the Oinos, the Dark house of wine, Dorian quirks a brow.
“Stop it and be serious,” I say, smacking his shoulder. “Yeah, I may be a lush, but I’m not killing anyone.”
“Like I said, you’re drawn to certain elements. Oinos is one of them. No, you don’t kill anyone, but think about how
you feel when you drink. At first, you feel good. Free. But then a darker emotion settles over you, making you crave violence and rage. Now imagine those feelings in weaker-willed humans. Imagine little voices whispering in their ears, telling them to have one more drink, throw caution to the wind, give in to paranoia. That’s how the Oinos operate. And it’s not just wine. It’s all drugs and alcohol.”
I look over at the glass of wine Dorian poured for me, and push it away. “So that night at that club, Aria, when I allegedly tried to kill some girl, that was all the work of Oinos?”
Dorian shakes his head. “You’ll find that some elements work in conjunction with others. Your fiery temper and violent nature are attributed to Polemos—your bloodline. The house of Polemos were known seekers of war. They took pleasure in carnage and wrath. You’ve been a scrappy little thing your entire life. That’s why.”
He’s right—I have been. My hot temper has always gotten the best of me, resulting in more fights than I can count. Anytime my life felt out of control, I always felt angered to the point of violence. Luckily, Chris saw that demon in me, and got me involved in boxing, helping me to channel my rage before I got into serious trouble. So while I still saw red, I knew to take it out on the heavy bag, not on some prissy slore’s face.
Morgan flits into the kitchen, humming along to a tune blaring from her iPod and successfully distracting me from my tortured stream of consciousness. Dorian leans over to brush a kiss against my forehead, mumbling something about talking with the others and giving us girls some space.
“This place is pretty dope,” she remarks, head fully immersed inside the refrigerator.
I close the book and slide it to the side. Morgan takes the stool beside me and removes her earbuds, holding a bottle of juice and an apple. “Yeah, it is. Guess your “beautiful theory” was pretty spot on.”