Light Shadows

  Dorian could be lost forever.

  From the half-full perspective, he and I have a chance to fall in love all over again. Half empty? He’ll see that I’m really not as enticing now that the novelty is gone.

  And what if the spell doesn’t work at all? What if he wakes up to be the same violent, evil prick we found back at the palace? Do we try again? Or do we just let him walk out of here?

  And now that Stavros is dead, what does that make Dorian?

  King.

  Dorian is the new king of the Dark.

  I thought this was the end of all the chaos and confusion, but I feel like it’s just beginning. The beginning of something…big. I just don’t know what it is.

  “You should eat.”

  My eyes snap to Niko, and I frown, wondering what made him break his vow of silence.

  “You should eat,” he repeats. “You expelled a lot of energy. Food will help keep you strong until you’re able to replenish.”

  I turn to the sandwich on the nightstand, take a small bite and put it down. Then I look back at Niko with an expression that says, There, ya happy?

  A few more minutes of silence stretch between us, and we go back to what we were doing before: obsessing in a pit of denial.

  “Have you heard anything about Cyrus?” I ask, my gaze still fixed on Dorian.

  “Yes. He’s recuperating well. He was too weak to try to transport.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “And Denny said the Light Enchanters have intervened on behalf of the humans, cleansing them of the darkness in their bodies and sending them home. The Dark royals have gone underground. Without Stavros, they’re afraid to try to fight the mandate.”

  “Good.” Sheesh. Broken record, anyone?

  “The rest of the fallen children are celebrating. They’re finally free. Not even the Light will stand in their way. They’re scared it will end just as badly.”

  I smile, imaging all those people who are free to love and be who they want to be. I’d imagine that there are many more out there just like them who have been hiding out of fear of punishment.

  “Denny knows your mother. They had something.” It’s not a question.

  “Yes. He’s over 400 years old. He knew my mother when they were children. They fell in love very young, but he was not deemed fit to make her his wife. She was betrothed to Stavros, and I don’t think Denny ever let it go.”

  I nod, sending out a silent prayer for the sinfully sexual rocker and the queen. Delia was a young girl in love once. She had dreams, hopes and aspirations for her future. But politics and greed changed that. And Stavros…he just has a way of sucking the joy from the very marrow of your bones. Maybe she’ll get another shot with Denny. Maybe she’ll learn to love again.

  “I suspect he will return to join her at court,” Niko says, reading my mind. “You know, now that she is queen consort. She will seek his counsel, among other things.”

  “And what about you? Will you go back as well?”

  I hear the rustle of fabric, signaling a shrug. “I suppose I would, if she summoned me.”

  “And Dorian?” I grimace as I say his name, the image of him taking the Dark throne flashing in my mind. “Will you serve him once he becomes king?”

  “If he requires it.” He falls quiet for a beat, but I can still hear the question burning on his tongue. He doesn’t even have to ask. “And you? Will you serve him?”

  I force myself to just focus on the rise and fall of Dorian’s chest, reminding myself that he’s alive. He’s safe, for now. That’s what’s important. “I don’t know.” I touch his face, the ring he gave me—the one on my left hand—glittering against the dim candlelight. The one that mocks me, telling me that I’m nothing but a kept woman. “He won’t…have me. Not in the way a king needs to have a woman.”

  Niko’s silence speaks volumes. He knows I’m right. Dorian will never marry me. And once he is king, he’ll need a wife. One that can provide him with an heir.

  Someone that is not me.

  “You saved him just to let him go.”

  “Yes.”

  “You knew all along what this meant, yet you did it anyway. You risked your life for him, knowing that it couldn’t work.”

  “Yes.”

  Niko laughs sardonically. I look over to find him leaning over, his head in his hands. “What kind of love is that? How could something that’s supposed to bring you joy and triumph be so painful?”

  “It’s not love. It’s insanity.”

  He lifts his face from his palms, and meets my eyes. I see that the pain of love he spoke about wasn’t for me or Dorian, it was for him. That was his hurt, his anguish. I’m not the only one who’s insane.

  “Why do we let them do this to us?” he asks, his voice a broken whisper.

  “Do what?”

  “Leave us.” An iridescent speck rolls down his cheek, almost masked by the comfort of the shadows.

  “Because we’re stupid. And because we’d rather have a moment of happiness than a lifetime of loneliness.”

  Niko makes a noise in his throat, as if my words strangle him. I turn away, allowing him to suffer in private.

  “We love the unlovable,” he murmurs. “We save the unsaveable.”

  “It’s a sickness.”

  “It’s masochism.”

  I nod, but I don’t say a word. We’ve already said it all.

  The others check on us periodically to see if there is any change. Now, it’s Lars’s turn, whose ragged expression tells me that he’s weary. Saving Dorian has taken a toll on him, and he’s running on fumes. When he leans over to check his vitals, I gently grasp his arm.

  “Lars, you’ve given so much of yourself. Is there anything I can do?”

  Just as I expect him to, he shakes his head. Breathing is intimate, an act shared by lovers. Me giving to Lars…him taking me inside him…it wouldn’t be right.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I must decline,” he replies, giving me a warm smile.

  I nod in response. “Just let me know if it gets too—”

  Pain.

  So so so much pain.

  Ripping through my back, slicing through skin and sinew and bone. Carving me in half with a blazing hot machete. I cry out, nearly collapsing onto the floor. Strong arms are the only thing holding me up, and my eyes are shut so tight, I can’t even tell who it is.

  “Get it off me! Get it off!” I scream, clawing at my shirt.

  Instantly, there’s a rip of fabric and cool air hits my skin. Still, it’s not enough to extinguish the fire crawling up my back. I can smell my own flesh burning and taste vomit on the back of my tongue. I force it back down, grateful that I didn’t eat much. My trembling body begins to sway as everything around grows dim. The shaking increases, shudders rolling through my body as if someone has dumped me in a pool of ice water.

  “She’s going to pass out! Someone do something!” I hear Morgan shriek, but her voice is far away.

  “I can take her pain away. I can heal her.” I feel Lars’s hand on my naked shoulders, but I bat it away with a shaky hand.

  “No…no…need…this,” I stammer through chattering teeth.

  I won’t be able to hold on much longer, but I have to. I refuse to let this brand—Aurora’s brand—take me under. I let out another scream, releasing the pain, and I feel the sides of my mouth split. Blood oozes onto my tongue, but I don’t feel the sting. I am beyond pain. Beyond feeling anything else besides the sensation of my back being flayed raw. Still, I scream. I scream until my vocal cords are stripped. And when no more sound comes out, I cry silently beside Dorian, my sweat-slicked forehead pressed into the comforter.

  Minutes, hours, days pass. I’m not even sure. I just know that I’ve stopped screaming. And I’m completely exhausted. Someone drapes a blanket around my shoulders once the chills start. I can’t even lift my head to see who it is, or even speak to thank them. But I’m grateful. So grateful that they sat through this with me as I
battled the last of that demon. Aurora can’t hurt me anymore, even from the grave.

  The pain has finally subsided enough for me to doze off, and I sprint towards the edges of sleep. Someone touches my hair gently, soothing me into slumber. I hear gasps and murmurs around me, but none of it makes sense. Sounds just blend together in slow motion, the chopped and screwed version of the aftermath.

  “Little girl,” I hear a raspy voice say.

  I smile against the comforter. Ah, yes. This is a good dream. The kind that I never want to wake up from.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I left you.”

  The stroking of my hair, the sound and smell of him…Dream Dorian almost seems real. So real that I know it will kill me when I wake, only to discover that he’s not there.

  The bed shifts beside me, and with eyes still closed, I frown. No. Someone wants to take him away. I need this right now. I have nothing left to hold onto.

  The hand travels from the crown of my head, down to the side of my neck. I remember that touch. The feel of his skin on mine is something I could never, ever forget. His fingerprint is permanently embedded in my flesh.

  “I tried. I tried to come back to you. I felt you with me—always. It killed me inside to hurt you.”

  “Then why did you?” I ask Dream Dorian. What else do I have to lose? If talking to a figment of my imagination is what it takes to be close to him, then that’s what I’ll do.

  “I couldn’t fight it. It was like being petrified inside myself. I could see and hear, but I was powerless. But I knew you would fight. I knew you wouldn’t let me go.”

  The fingers slide to my chin, forcing my head up from the bed. I try to struggle against it, but there’s no fight left in me.

  “Open your eyes, little girl.”

  I try to shake my head, refusing to abandon this beautiful delusion, but my head is just too heavy. The hand cradles my cheek lovingly and brushes away frustrated tears.

  “It’s ok. I’m here now. You don’t have to fight anymore. Let me fight for you.”

  “Dorian?” There’s only a strangled whisper left.

  “Yes, Gabriella. I’m here. I’m here, baby.”

  I force my eyelids open, fully expecting to find that this dream is really just a cruel nightmare. However, blue eyes stare back at me, bordered by long, dark lashes. Full, lush lips spread into a crooked smile. Smooth, tan skin warms against me with vitality.

  He sighs with relief, and I feel his cool breath fan across my face. Another hand reaches towards me, and begins to pull me into the bed beside him. And when his lips cover mine, tasting of regret and bliss and love, I know without a doubt that this isn’t a dream. Dorian has come back to me.

  A surge of adrenaline spikes in my veins, and I nearly tackle him. “You’re…here. You know me. But…how…why…”

  Dorian laughs, and there’s color in my world again. “Of course, I know you. And I love you. Hear me now—I love you, Gabriella. And I never stopped. I promise you that.”

  I grip his body, holding onto him like he’s going to slip away again. Praying that this isn’t some sick joke that will take my Dorian from me for good. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, remembering his scent of ocean and rainwater, and cry grateful tears. Something I haven’t done in a long, long time.

  “Well, it’s about damn time,” I hear Niko say beside us. Dorian shifts as they embrace, but his arms come right back around me.

  “Glad to have you back, brother,” Alex says, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “Alexander,” Dorian says, his voice pensive. “Please forgive me. I promise you, I—”

  “No need,” my father says, a smile in his voice. The two shake hands before giving into a one-armed bro hug.

  Morgan hugs him next, playfully smacking him for scaring the shit out of us. When he tries to apologize for putting a knife to her throat, her response is much like Alex’s.

  “Just love my girl. That’s how you can make it up to me. Love her and never let her go.”

  Dorian murmurs a heartfelt response, causing Morgan to break into a soft sob as she steps aside to let Lars through.

  “Thank you,” Dorian says, shaking his hand. “You are an incredibly courageous soul, and I am grateful of the sacrifice you made to give me my life back. I am in your debt. Whatever you desire, it is yours.”

  I look up to see Lars bow his head. “It was my honor to serve Gabriella. And if there is anything I could request, it is that you rule with compassion and fairness for all of the Divine’s creatures. And may your reign be a long and prosperous one.”

  “Reign?” Dorian frowns, looking to Niko, who nods, his expression regretful.

  “Father. He is…dead. Slain at the hands of our mother.” He steps forward and takes his brother’s hand. “The throne is yours now, brother.”

  Dorian falls quiet and still, frozen in shock. I watch his face for any signs of a reaction—joy, shame, sadness—but he’s blank. As if the thought of being king doesn’t affect him at all.

  “We still have much to discuss,” Niko recovers. “Obviously, you will have to meet with—”

  Dorian raises a hand, halting any further talk about his newly acquired position. “There will be time for that. But first…first, there’s something I must do.”

  He shifts beside me so his body is facing mine, and takes my hands in his. “Gabriella, I’ve walked the earth for two and a half decades, searching for the other half of my soul. I’ve done unspeakable things in that quest and, in turn, have experienced tremendous pain. But nothing has ever wounded me more than hurting you. A link may no longer lie between us, but I will always shoulder your pain. I will always share your joy. And no matter what, I will always love you with every breath in my body. When I met you, I didn’t just find the other half of my soul, I found the reason for every heartbeat. Every teardrop. Every ounce of blood in my veins. You are my life, little girl. My everything. And if you will have me, I would be honored to be your husband.”

  Wide eyes explore his, searching for any signs of jest. “What?”

  He smiles at my flabbergasted expression, those lips doing devious things to my stuttering heart. “Marry me, Gabriella.”

  “But you said…you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. And now you’re king.”

  “And as king, I want you by my side. As my wife and my queen. I’ve wasted so much time without you. I can’t wait another second.”

  I shake my head in disbelief, trying to make sense of what he’s offering. “But, I can’t…I can’t give you an heir. I can’t give you what you want. What you need.”

  His hands grasp my cheeks, so I’m forced to see the earnestness on his face. “The only thing I want and need is you, Gabriella. Nothing else matters, and I mean that down to the very marrow of my bones. So say yes. Say you’ll be mine for eternity. Because I can live without an heir. I can’t live without you.”

  I look over at my friends and family, seeing varied looks of excitement and joy reflected on their faces. Even Niko looks genuinely content. He tips his head to me, telling me it’s ok. That he’ll be ok. And no matter what, I won’t lose him.

  “Yes,” I breathe, turning back to Dorian’s expectant face. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes, I will marry you, Dorian!”

  The room breaks into cheers and more joyful tears as Dorian wraps me in his arms, squeezing the air from my lungs. I don’t complain. I relish his sweet suffocation. My Dorian is back, and he’s mine. Forever.

  “I love you, little girl,” he whispers, kissing the side of my face. His mouth moves to capture mine in a kiss that makes my soul weep. “In life and in death,” he mumbles against my lips. “From now until eternity. And when we’re nothing more than dust and bone, I’ll love you some more, because you are my destiny. I was placed on this earth to love you, and no curse or spell or enemy force could ever take you away from me.”

  The earth shifts on its axis as two great forces of nature collide, folding into one another. Existing only for the othe
r to thrive. This man—this mighty storm—is my sole reason of being. And when I fell in love with him, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the gravity of this beautifully insane life. And I fell into forever.

  WHEN THE THREAD of your existence has been stretched and pulled to the threat of breaking more times than you can count, you don’t waste time with human, social formalities.

  No.

  You get married within 24 hours of the proposal.

  At least, that’s how Dorian explained it. And I have to say, I couldn’t agree more. Why let another second go by when we both know how we want to spend eternity? What would we be waiting for?

  We’ve suffered through the unthinkable. Lived through trials and tribulations that should have otherwise claimed our last breaths. And now…now we’re free. And I can’t think of any other way that I want to spend our newly gained freedom than becoming Dorian’s wife.

  His wife.

  It almost doesn’t seem real. Every time I feel our relationship has taken a turn for the better, malevolence derails us from our path, sending us into a tailspin of tragedy. I thought we’d never get off that ride. And now there’s nothing standing in our way. No secret evil that wants to tear us apart. Dorian will be king, and he will work to right the wrongs set forth by his people, hoping to push his race back to their true purpose: the rulers of Night. They were never inherently evil; they were just corrupted by those who were.

  Once Dorian announced that we would be wed the very next day—today—Morgan jumped into planning. With Lars’s help, she arranged a cake, catering, flowers, décor and even a dress. I could only sit back and let her take the reins. The girl is a beast in her own right. I swear, she could probably run her own small country, all the while remaining stylish from the top of her Brazilian blowout to the tips of her shellac pedicure.

  So here I am, draped in sheer, ivory lace and intricate, champagne beading by Inbal Dror while Morgan fusses over my hair. Luckily, the gown is nontraditional and daring without being too sexy. It’s absolutely stunning, and I could not imagine marrying Dorian in anything else.