Although I don’t know this striking man in front of me, I know without a doubt that he is my father. And something within me blooms with hope, urging me to accept this unlikely revelation and to desperately hold onto the beautiful apparition for fear that it will dissipate before my eyes.
“Gabriella?”
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but I can’t find the right words. So, in true Gabriella fashion, I go with my first thought.
“You look pretty good for a dead guy.”
Alexander exhales and smiles as if he has just heard the first sounds of my newborn cry. I guess in a way he has. This is our very first introduction. Something that was robbed from us twenty-one years ago.
“My child,” he murmurs, tentatively stroking the knotted, messy mass of hair on my head. He touches me with a reluctance that only the Dark could understand. He summons pure, unbound, selfless affection, something they rarely feel or experience.
I sit up to really let myself look at him, and I’m instantly stunned stupid with his beauty. Dark curls, bronze skin and startlingly bright blue eyes. His hair is longer, and there’s a good amount of scruff on his chin—just enough to make him appear menacing and dangerous. However, he is undoubtedly handsome. Almost pretty. This man can’t be my father. Despite his ripped suit jacket and blood-stained linen shirt, there’s no way I’m related to someone so damn good looking. But I see it… I see me. The shape of his nose, his full lips, the dimple between his brows when he’s concentrating. He’s a part of me, as bizarre as it may seem.
I make a move to sit up from the couch, and both Dorian and Alexander rush to my aid, which is completely unnecessary. I get it; it’s not for my comfort, but completely for their peace of mind.
I cast my gaze down to see the scrap of fabric I’m wearing was once Dorian’s crisp, white dress shirt. The top is stained with my blood, but the skin just beneath it is smooth and unmarred, if not a bit cold to the touch. I run a hand from my collarbone to the top of my left breast, following the icy trail that was once open, bloody flesh. Then I do the same to Dorian, letting my fingers caress his bare chest. He flinches marginally at first, still growing accustomed to the initial jolt of my touch. He leans closer, soaking in the feel of my skin and the scent of my power.
“What happened, Dorian?” I ask, just above a whisper. He opens his mouth to answer, but no sound escapes, as if the words have been stolen from his tongue. I press my gaze into his and lean forward. I’m not trying to influence him—I don’t want to ever force him to bend to my will—but I need to hear him say it. I can feel the reluctance in him; I can feel him trying to push me out of his head. There’s something he’s not telling me, and he’s notorious for being cryptic.
Not anymore.
“Gabriella, I’m sorry, I—I had no idea this would happen. I didn’t know,” he stammers. His hand covers mine where it is still planted on his bare chest, his touch cool, yet comfortable.
“Didn’t know what?” I nod, encouraging him to go on. “What happened to me, Dorian? What happened to you? Talk to me.”
I press in more and he grimaces, as if feeling me inside him pains him. Or maybe it’s his resistance that hurts him. A shudder runs through him as I move in even closer, hanging on to his every shallow breath.
“The link,” he finally croaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I told you I didn’t know what would happen after you ascended. And I didn’t, I swear it. But this…this is something I could never have imagined.”
My gaze is wide and focused on his. “Go on.”
Dorian takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand over his heart. “Every wound that I suffer, you suffer with me. Everything that happens to me will apparently happen to you. I don’t know why and I don’t know how to stop it, but we have to find out. Because if that’s true, if something were to…if I don’t survive…I can’t…” He grimaces again before stroking my cheek tenderly. “I’m sorry, little girl. If I would have known, I never would have done it.”
“But you did anyway,” Alexander interjects, venom in his words. “You put my daughter in danger without knowing what you were doing. How dare you be so careless with her life?”
Dorian keeps his gaze on me, unfazed by my father’s words. “You have to believe that your safety is the only thing that matters to me. You are the only thing that matters to me.”
I nod, hearing him, but not quite understanding him. “But I’m fine now. You’re fine now. Did you heal us? Like you healed me when…when Xavier took me and—”
Dorian flinches at the spoken memory of my near-death less than 24 hours ago. He’d found me beaten, bloodied and tortured in the basement of an abandoned warehouse miles from the city limits. I’d been close to death on that concrete slab, my throat and chest crushed by the bare hands of a monster. But, somehow, Dorian brought me back. His love saved me in that impossible, final hour. Maybe the Divine has shown mercy and allowed him to do it again.
When he shakes his head solemnly, I realize that I’m way off base. “No. I didn’t. You did.”
The fuck?
Reading the confusion in my expression, Dorian continues. “We, the Dark and the Light, have accelerated healing, obviously.”
“Oh yes, obviously,” I jibe, rolling my eyes. When in doubt, act immature. Next step: Stomp my feet and poke my lower lip out like the brat that I am.
He steadies me with a hand on each of my shoulders as if he’s afraid I’ll run. “And I did try to heal you. I tried with everything in me to fix you, baby. But you…your healing is something we’ve never seen before. Your body, Gabriella, mended itself right before our eyes. Your flesh pulled itself together and sealed like…” He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, trying to find the words to explain.
“Like magic,” I whisper, almost embarrassed to utter the words.
“Yes,” Dorian replies, a soft smile on those deliciously full lips. “Like magic. But not any ordinary magic. This is something no one’s ever experienced. In all our years combined,” he says nodding at Alexander, whose face is becoming graver by the minute, “we’ve never seen anything like this. Like you.”
“We knew you’d be special, Gabriella,” Alexander chimes in, his voice soft and soothing, as if he’s coaxing a wild beast. “But we didn’t realize that you’d have a completely different type of magic than ours. And since it is different, we don’t know what to expect.”
Again, I nod, just to show that I’m listening, but it all sounds like a foreign language. Nothing should still surprise me, but it does. All this shit surprises the living hell out of me.
Dorian lets his palms slide down to my hands to grasp them tightly, trying to exude confidence and warmth in his touch. His thumb lingers over the tiny, blue anchor marked in my skin, sending cold ripples up my arm. “I promise you, little girl, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. We’ll find a way to break the link. I’ll exhaust every fucking resource I have to make this right.”
I pull away from him, not because I distrust his promise, but because it’s too much to digest all at once. My dead father shows up; he and Dorian try to kill each other; I bear Dorian’s wounds that could potentially be the end of me; I find out I possess an unknown power inside myself…how do I even begin to respond? The questions fill my skull faster than I can even get them out. And even if I could make sense of these revelations, crashing down on me like a tidal wave, what then? Will I be ready to hear the truth? Can I handle that? My body may be stronger, my vision clearer, my reflexes faster, but I’m still Gabriella. And 24 hours ago, my life was in the hands of a psychotic Light Enchanter, while the man I love was preparing to wed his equally crazed ex.
Where the fuck is the pause button?
I close my eyes for a beat, trying to collect my bearings and get a handle on the anxiety creeping over me. This isn’t right. This is all wrong. I was supposed to ascend, accepting my destiny to walk in both the Light and the Dark. I was supposed to bring the two forces together and save t
hem all from the evils of the human world. To restore the balance. Alexander was not supposed to come back. He died for love—for me—over two decades ago. And the link was supposed to help Dorian and I. It was a testament of our love that would protect both our lives. It wasn’t supposed to be another obstacle stacked against us.
Just stop. I just want it all to stop.
I press the tips of my fingers to my temples and take a deep, calming breath, willing the confusion in my head to slow. I can do this. Sure, Dorian and I have some creepy stigmata-esque phenomena going on, but shit, we’ve been through worse. And having my father here—having my flesh and blood right here with me—is a dream come true. My adopted parents, Chris and Donna, have been amazing and I could have never asked for more, but having this second chance with Alex…what a gift.
I open my eyes and exhale, ready to face whatever else this supernatural life wants to throw at me with a newfound “Come at me, bro” resolve, but I’m completely frozen in place before I can even utter one word.
No. No, I’m not frozen in place.
They are.
Shock and horror rip through me at an alarming pace, as I realize what’s happened. Dorian…Alexander…both completely still and silent. Frozen into mystical mannequins right before my dual-colored eyes.
This is fucked. This is so fucking fucked.
I wave a hand in front of Dorian’s face, his brilliant blue eyes—still as alluring and hypnotic as ever. They don’t move to wink at me playfully. I touch my fingertips to his full, soft lips, but he doesn’t give me my favorite crooked smile. Even when I rake a hand through that sexy-as-hell mess of black hair that I love to fist and tug so much when he’s deep inside me, he doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even feel me touching him. My body is a stranger to his.
Shit.
Shit shit shit. This can’t be happening.
I turn to Alexander, who wears the same look of frustration that he’s had since he arrived and realized what had been going on between his daughter and his best friend. His brow is still furrowed, his lips still tight with irritation. He even grips the back of the couch like he had been doing just seconds ago.
“Oh my God,” I say out loud, though no one will hear me.
Or can they?
Desperate, I begin to clap my hands loudly in front of their faces, but there’s no reaction. I shout in their ears, calling out their names, but nobody answers. Neither even flinches. Frustrated tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes, but I quickly swipe them away. This is not the time to have a girl moment. I need to think; I need to figure this shit out before I fuck things up even more with my unstable emotions.
I’ve only seen this happen once before: the day Stavros showed up at the salon, Luxe, demanding that I speak with him. How did he do it? A snap of his fingers? I try it, but nothing changes. Cringing, I slap Dorian across the face. His smooth jaw feels like marble under my fingertips and his skin doesn’t even give with the impact.
“Wake up, Dorian!” I screech, slapping him again. My hand stings with the blow, but I hit his again, this time on his bare chest, over and over again before burying my face against his skin. I breathe him in—stealing his scent for comfort. “Please, wake up! Please!”
I’m losing control—I can feel it. Numbing cold ripples from the apples of my cheeks to the rims of my eyes. I try to blink it away but it just keeps growing stronger, colder.
I lift my head from Dorian’s chest just as the floor begins to tremble under my bare feet, causing shards of broken glass and splinters of wood to clatter together. A gust of wind sweeps through the room, rattling what’s left of the furniture. Lights flicker wildly all around us as a low roar envelops the vast space.
I look down at my shaky hands just as a fiery, auburn glow alights my fingertips, snaking its way up my palms and to my wrists. The ethereal haze writhes and twists up to my elbows, growing hotter, yet not burning me. I can feel its power seeping into my skin and permeating the very marrow in my bones. I gasp at the sensation igniting every cell in my body. I can’t even explain what’s happening to me. It’s hot, yet cold. Jarring, yet euphoric. I feel like I’m weightless, floating outside of my body, above Dorian and Alexander, and beyond this room, beyond the Broadmoor. I am everywhere, yet dissolved into obscurity. A mere whisper and a thundering roar.
I’ve seen Dorian transform before—hell, I witnessed it just moments before I lost consciousness. Both he and Alexander stripped away their human forms and unleashed the darkness that festered just below the surface. Most people would have been terrified, and honestly, it was the first time Dorian allowed me to see him. But now…now I like it. I love it. It’s what he truly is—Dark—and I love every bit of that man, even the scary parts.
And now I’ve lost him. Again. And I don’t know how to bring him back to me.
“Help,” I whisper, the word falling on deaf ears. There’s nobody here to help me. Nobody here to fix what I’ve done. I’m alone with this mess I’ve made. “Somebody help me.”
A knock sounds from the double doors, answering my anguished plea. “Room service,” someone announces.
I look to the entrance of the suite nervously, not knowing what to do. I’m covered with dried blood, the room is destroyed, and I have two frighteningly gorgeous Warlocks frozen in front of me. I can’t explain this; who would believe me? I can’t even believe it myself.
A new wave of desperation sets in, causing the floor to rumble more violently. The stinging cold in my eyes almost hurts, and it grows more intense as I stare at those double doors, feeling like I could burn right through them. I take a deep breath, smelling sweet fruit, fresh coffee and human sweat just on the other side. I can smell the sugary decadence of crème brulee and chocolate mousse resting on silver-covered platters...can hear the rapid heartbeat stuttering under the server’s sweat-dampened cotton shirt. He’s nervous. Anxious. But there’s something else I sense in him. Something I’ve never felt before.
Just as I think it, I’m already in a defensive crouch, shielding both Dorian and Alexander with my body. What reason would he have to be nervous?
I take another deep breath, inhaling remnants of marijuana and alcohol seeping from his pores. I hear him swallow and smack his lips together, searching for moisture. His breath is stale and foul with booze and bile. I taste it on my own tongue, and I’m hit with an intense wave of dizziness.
“Hello?” He knocks again before rattling the door handle. “Is everything ok?”
I look down at my hands, still covered in fire. Something doesn’t feel right. This is no ordinary concierge. And if he’s here to hurt us—if somebody sent him here—I have to ensure our safety at all costs. Even if that means doing the unthinkable.
I sense someone approaching down the hall, but I can’t tell exactly who—or what—it is. Even with their soundless footfalls, I can tell they’re coming in fast—faster than humanly possible. And I can feel it…I can feel their power. It’s strong. Potent.
Dark.
I take a few steps towards the door, waiting, ready to strike if need be. I feel every cell in my body heating with expectation, and adrenaline surges through every vein. The carnal part of me takes the reins, and I’m guided only by sense and animal instinct.
I hear the concierge gasp in surprise as the unknown intruder appears before him, but the breath is stolen from his lungs before he even has the chance to formulate coherent words.
Then all is silent and still…eerily so. Even the rumbling under my feet has ceased and the howling winds have died. I can’t even hear my own anxious breaths.
Three raps on the door. And the last voice I expect to hear.
“Room service.”
I’M AT THE double doors before my brain even initializes the command. Without so much as a flick of my finger, they fly open, revealing an unconscious hotel worker with bad skin slumped in a corner, and the dangerously handsome Warlock known as Nikolai Skotos.
“Niko,” I nearly sob, throwing myself i
nto his arms. He tentatively wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight. Niko’s always been more comfortable with human contact than his older brother. Physical displays of affection were never an issue for us.
“Happy birthday, baby girl. Easy now, I’m here,” he says, pulling me from his body to assess my distressed state. His eyes—as blue and bright as a cloudless sky—grow wide with disbelief. “Holy fuck, Gabs. What have you…what did you do to yourself?”
I know exactly what he sees—ripped, bloody shirt, unruly hair and eyes that shouldn’t exist in either of our worlds. He sees me for what I am—what I have become.
His hand trembling, he slowly extends a single finger to touch the space right below my right eye—the golden one. The part of me that was destined to rule in the Light. He gasps aloud when his bare skin touches mine.
“Your eyes,” he whispers, fear and astonishment thick in his voice. “How did you…? How did you do it?”
“I don’t know. I just refused to ascend to one without the other. I didn’t want to choose.”
He brings his other hand to my face and cups both cheeks, closing his eyes as the burn infiltrates the surface of his palms.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” I ask, confused as to why he hasn’t flinched from the scorch of my skin.
Eyes still closed, Niko shakes his head, a small, sad smile on his lips. “No. Not anymore.”
When he finally opens his eyes and looks down at me, unnamed emotion swims amongst the blue. It goes beyond fear of the unknown and far past surprise. I can’t tell if he’s saddened with my decision or pleased, or maybe a mixture of the two.
“Good,” I try to smile. “Because I need your help.”
Reluctantly, I pull away from the comfort of his touch and turn towards the scene in the living room. Niko yanks the hotel server by the sweat-stained collar of his shirt and drags him into the suite, before pushing the food cart inside as well. In the Dark tongue, he mumbles something under his breath about filthy, disgusting humans, and then follows me into the room.