Light Shadows

  She shakes her head frantically, refusing to trust my words. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe what you’re telling me. I won’t believe it. Magic? That’s fucking ridiculous! It doesn’t exist. Witches, warlocks…whatever you are…it doesn’t fucking exist!”

  In one swift movement, I flip over her hands to expose her wrists. The skin is a bit cold to the touch, paper-thin and almost iridescent, yet otherwise unmarred. “Look, Morgan. What do you see? When we found you, you were dying. Dying! How do you explain this? What could have possibly happened to make you heal so quickly?”

  Morgan looks down at her arms, studying the smooth skin that once was open and bleeding with a laceration down to the bone. “I can’t believe it. It can’t be.”

  “You know in your heart that what I’m telling you is true, don’t you? Remember what you told me about your grandmother? Remember you said that she came to you when we were at Breckenridge? I believed you, Morgan. Without question, I believed you. I need you to do that for me now. And I promise, I’ll explain more when I can. But for now, just hear what I’m saying to you. Everything that you thought was myth is real. The world that you know is so much more complex than you could ever imagine. Magic is real. And whatever happened to you last night—whatever pushed you to that point of desperation—has tied you to mine, whether you like it or not.

  In an act of assurance, or maybe just flat-out stupidity, I remove my hands from hers, completely stepping out on faith and hoping that she—my friend and sister—truly hears me. “I’m not going anywhere, Morgan. So you can fight me—you can kick and scream—but until we find out what happened to you, you’re stuck with me. With all of us.”

  Silent moments turn into several minutes as she ponders my vehement declaration. Rehashing all the stories about her grandmother and her heritage that she thought was all nonsense. Remembering that night on our ski trip that had her shaken and teary-eyed when her grandmother appeared to her, warning her of the darkness that lurked nearby. She knew then. She knew there were things beyond our world that science and logic could not explain. Things so much more complex than our vapid little realm of shopping and club-hopping.

  Morgan knows. I can see it in her. I can feel it in her. She believes me. Now I just hope she will believe in me.

  “You know this is incredibly fucked up, right?”

  I give a one-shoulder shrug and nod. “I know.”

  She shakes her head. “And you know only a mental patient would believe this story. That you have to be absolutely insane to take stock in any of this shit.”

  “I know.”

  She takes a resigning breath before looking up at me, her eyes devoid of any inkling of rage or fear. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m crazy as hell.”

  “SO LET ME get this straight: Alexander is your father. And Dorian’s ex-partner in the Shadow, which is basically an organization of assassins. Assassins that were hunting your mother and vice versa.”

  I nod at Morgan. “Right.”

  “And your mother was a Light Enchanter—like a good witch—and sworn enemy of the Dark.”

  “More or less.”

  “And somehow you’re both, right? Light and Dark. Which explains the freaky eye shit. By the way, we have to get you some contacts or something, because it’s kinda cool, but mostly creepy as hell.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. Leave it up to Morgan to make light of a situation like this.

  “Ok. So when your parents were caught, Alex was supposed to be executed?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Dorian was spared as well. On the terms that he would kill you before you ass—um—ascen—”

  “Ascended. Yes. Before my ascension on my 21st birthday.”

  “But he didn’t. He fell in love with you. And defied his father, who is like the hot-shit king of the Dark, making Dorian and Niko princes?”

  “Correct.”

  Morgan’s eyes grow wide with excitement. “Holy shit, Gabs! So if you marry Dorian, you become like a princess or something? Or—hell—a queen?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head before Morgan’s imagination runs away from her. “It’s not like that. Dorian and I…we won’t…that won’t happen.”

  “So you’re good enough to seduce, but not good enough to marry,” Alexander snorts, malice in his voice. “Figures.”

  “Be very careful,” Dorian warns, sitting on the couch beside me. I can feel the rising anger radiating from his frame.

  “Wait a minute. So how does Niko fit into all this? Was he part of the Shadow too?” Morgan meets my eyes and gives me a wink, telling me she’s got the situation under control. Leave it up to her to know exactly how to handle men—even deadly, immortal ones.

  Alex clears his throat and turns back to Morgan, his expression softening. “No, he wasn’t. But he was the one who brought me here.”

  “But Cyrus was the one who rescued him before he could be put to death,” Niko adds.

  Morgan turns to Niko, brows raised in confusion. “Cyrus?”

  “Our cousin. And vampire.”

  She shakes her head and throws up her hands, as if she’s just maxed out her weird-shit intake for the year. “Oh hell no. You did not just say vampire.”

  Niko jumps into the history of the Dark and the Light, and how the existence of vampires came to be, so I take the opportunity to excuse myself to the kitchen in a quest to throw something edible together. The verdict? I’d be a shitty housewife. Other than alcohol and junk food, we have nothing remotely nutritious in the house. If it weren’t for Donna’s Sunday dinners, I’d live solely on a diet of beer and Cheetos. Now that’s an attractive thought.

  Obviously, things weren’t like that when Dorian and I were together. He cared for me to the point of fawning over me. I have to admit, it made me feel cherished. Precious. He wanted me to be deliriously happy and healthy. And I was.

  Until he left.

  Losing him devastated me. Losing him to Aurora completely demolished me.

  I couldn’t see Dorian’s motives beyond my pain. And even though he’d been hurting too, I’d hated him for doing that to me. For loving me just to leave me. I would have rather turned out to be a single cat lady than have felt the blow of his abandonment for one more day. Being loved by Dorian is like having the sweetest wine on your tongue while resting on a bed of clouds. But when that love is stolen away, there is no taste. No feeling. My heart and mind had become numb because I couldn’t stand to feel one more ounce of agony.

  “Lost in thought?”

  I look up from the mugs of steaming hot coffee and my eyes delve into an endless ocean of blue. I smile, gratitude filling my chest until I feel I may burst with pride. “Something like that.”

  Dorian takes the coffee carafe from my hand and sets it down on the counter before pulling my body into his. “Happy thoughts, I hope.”

  “Maybe,” I say, mimicking his vagueness from earlier.

  My Dark prince gives me that wicked half-grin and a surge of pleasurable prickles runs over the surface of my skin. When I gasp in surprise, his smile expands. “Oh, Gabriella. When will you learn? You shouldn’t play games with someone who doesn’t play fair.”

  “Asshole,” I grit through the fire ignited in my belly and the sparking heat between my thighs. Shit. This is not the time for this.

  “Oh?” Another rush of sensation rips through me, pushing that ball of fire deeper…lower.

  I open my mouth to retort, but Dorian grasps my chin and guides my mouth to his, smothering my protest. Then, just as abruptly as he kissed me, he pulls his lips away, yet keeps his forehead touching mine.

  “I’m sorry, little girl,” he whispers.

  “For what?”

  “For being…jealous. Jealousy is not a Dark emotion. We have no need for it.” I feel his eyebrows crease against mine.

  “You have no need for it, Dorian. You have nothing to be jealous about. I came back for you. Nobody but you.”

  I try to pull back to see his f
ace, but he holds me close against him. He doesn’t say a word, and neither do I. Just the feel of his body against mine is enough.

  It’s not until we hear the clearing of someone’s throat behind us do I even remember that we’re not alone.

  “Think I could grab one of those?” Niko asks, motioning to the coffee cups that Dorian and I are holding hostage. With a sheepish smile, I shimmy out of Dorian’s arms and hand him one.

  “How’s Morgan?” I ask, hoping to diffuse any rising tension between the brothers.

  “She’s good. She remembers most of the details, so it’s easier to piece them all together. Alex thinks we can spell her to at least weaken her sight enough to provide a little peace.”

  I grab a mug for myself and dribble a little flavored creamer in it. “And you think it’ll work?”

  Niko shrugs. “It won’t be fool-proof, but it’ll keep her sane. We shouldn’t have a problem as long as one of us is near her.”

  “So does that mean you’re staying?” I feel my eyes light up with hope and excitement. I don’t mean for them to, but I can’t stop myself. I just hope Dorian doesn’t see it too. I won’t bother to look up to find out, that’s for damn sure.

  He shrugs again, staring into his cup. “For as long as it takes to ensure you’re safe.”

  I let myself sneak a glance at Dorian, and as I suspected, his expression is as cold and hard as stone. His gaze slides over me, warming my body like slow-moving lava. I know that look; I live for that look. That look has both aroused and destroyed me more times than I can count.

  I can’t respond to Niko’s comment. Hell, I can’t even remember it.

  IT GOES WITHOUT saying that this birthday will forever go down in history as the most eventful and exhausting birthday ever.

  By the time the sun sets and everyone is settled in for the evening, I feel like I may pass out from fatigue. But opening my bedroom door to find Dorian standing at my bay window, gazing out into the night, instantly makes every cell in my body hum with an indescribable sexual charge. He doesn’t turn around or say a word, because he doesn’t need to. He can feel my need just as I can feel his.

  I kick off my jeans and t-shirt, and leave them in the middle of the room, knowing it’ll bug him. I laugh inwardly at my immaturity. Neat freak Dorian must be cringing right now.

  “Very funny,” he mutters from the window. He takes a sip from the glass of amber liquid in his hand.

  “Glad I could amuse you, Mr. Skotos.” I take a step towards my closet to grab a sleep tee, but decide against it. Instead I stride over to Dorian wearing only my bra and panties. He holds out the glass for me and I take a taste of the potent liquor, letting its warmth slide down my throat.

  “Amuse? No. Arouse? Most definitely. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  He takes the glass from my hands and sets it down on the nightstand before spinning me around so my ass is pressed into his groin and his hard chest molds to my back. I lean into him and let my eyes close, perfectly comfortable and secure in his arms. So much so, that I can’t even stifle the yawn that escapes when I open my mouth to reply.

  “You’re exhausted.” Dorian winds his arms around my scantily clothed frame and buries his lips in my hair. “I should have been more careful with you.”

  “I’m fine, honestly. Better now that I know everything will be ok. Niko and Alex are alternating between watching Morgan and checking the perimeter of the apartment building.”

  “Still, you should have let me help you. You’re barely a day old and still have so much to learn. You could’ve pushed yourself too far.”

  I turn around in his arms, pressing my breasts against his chest. “Barely a day old?” I ask with a questioning brow.

  “To us, you are just now living. The magic becomes your life force; without it, you die.” He nuzzles his nose with mine and his lips graze my mouth, yet he doesn’t kiss me. “You gave so much of yourself today. Now, it’s my turn to give you me.”

  Without warning, we’re on the bed, wisps of charcoal vapors swirling around our bodies. I’m flat on my back with Dorian hovering over me, watching, waiting for his influence to overtake my consciousness. While his body doesn’t touch mine, his mind—his beautiful-fucking-mind—begins to infiltrate every part of me. Sliding over the surface of my skin, so soft and light, like the silkiest feather. Pinching my sensitive nipples and raking down my belly. Igniting heat between my thighs until my panties are damp with desire.

  I feel him all over me—teasing my pleasure points with his phantom touches. He moves in closer, so close that our lips nearly meet, yet he still won’t kiss me. He still won’t let me taste the sweet longing that is undoubtedly tempting his tongue. I lift my head to take it from him only to find that I am bound to the bed, completely under his control.

  I’ve been here before. I’ve been under Dorian’s spell enough times to know how this will play out. He’s a man of dominating control, and today has been nothing short of chaos. He’s taking it back. He’s taking me back.

  “Touch me,” I beg, my voice breathless with agony.

  “No.” His eyes spark with white fire on that single word, showing the torment of his restraint.

  “Please,” I whimper. “I need you to touch me. I need to feel you.”

  “You feel me now,” he rasps.

  “No. That’s not enough.”

  “Oh? Not enough?” Pressure spikes in my core and I cry out as sensation snakes through my swollen sex. He doesn’t move, but I feel him there—touching, licking, even biting. Soft and hard, hot and wet, all at the same time.

  “I can feel you throbbing, Gabriella. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” My voice is an intelligible squeak. It does hurt, yet it feels oh-so-incredibly good. Dorian’s pain is the most potent form of pleasure.

  “I feel the hardness of your nipples—how they ache to be licked and sucked. You want me to do that, Gabriella? You want me cover your nipples with my mouth and run my tongue over them? You want me to squeeze them between my teeth right before I suck them, baby?”

  “Yes, Dorian,” I manage through a sob.

  “And when I’m done teasing your nipples, you want me to run my tongue down…” Another jolt of electricity stings my sensitive flesh. “…down…down…until it meets that soft, sweet place that hurts you so bad? You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

  I try to nod through the haze of lust and agony, but I can’t move. I can only feel him owning my body in the most delicious way.

  “Say it! Say you want me to suck you, lick you, taste you until you come on my tongue. And maybe, little girl—just maybe—I’ll let you do it.”

  I open my mouth to scream or weep, only to find that he’s now bound my voice. This sick, sexy sonofabitch just wants to torture me.

  As if he’s heard my thoughts, Dorian leaves me with a sadistic grin before he’s gone in a puff of grey smoke. Panic begins to set in until I feel the bed give beside me and Dorian’s scent washes over me once more.

  “My sweet, sweet Gabriella,” he coos, raking his fingers through my hair. “Seeing as it is your birthday, I probably shouldn’t torture you too much. But you’re so open to me; I just can’t help myself. You may speak now.”

  I open my mouth to find that the use of my vocal cords has been restored. “You’re sick. You are a sick, twisted fuck,” I spew, panting with immeasurable need.

  “Ah. A sick, twisted fuck that you want inside you, I presume?” He appears in my line of vision, wearing that devilish smirk. I both want to slap it off his face and kiss it, all in the same breath.

  “Yes.” There’s no point in lying. Even if he couldn’t feel my emotions, he could clearly see how soaked my panties are.

  “Would that make you happy, Gabriella? Me inside you? Filling you? Fucking you?” He leans down further, so close that I can feel his cool breath fan across my face and taste the lust on his tongue. “Ruining you so thoroughly that merely the sound of my name would make you
cry out in a fit of passion?”

  “Yes. It would.” Frustrated tears run down my face. “It would make me happy. Please don’t leave me like this.”

  Finally, he touches me, running a solitary finger from my collarbone down to the hollow between my breasts. “Oh, little girl. I would never leave you. Especially like this.”

  With a deft flick of a finger, my bra and panties are ripped away from my body. Then in the next second, he’s standing at the foot of the bed, palms spread over my body as bright blue flames lick up his wrists.

  “Look at me,” he commands, and I don’t hesitate to find his eyes, burning with white-hot passion. He’s shirtless, and the sight of smooth ripples on tanned skin makes my mouth water.

  It only takes that second—that single moment that our gazes meet—before my legs are shaking uncontrollably and I’m moaning Dorian’s name. It’s so strong—so unbelievably strong—that I feel it may kill me. But he won’t stop. His hands keep hovering over my writhing body, coaxing my climax like a snake charmer. Pulling it from deep within me in waves so intense that my entire body elevates from the bed, and I’m suspended in the power of pleasure alone.

  “Dorian,” I gasp. “Please. Now, please.”

  I only have mere seconds to catch my breath as Dorian strips off his pants before my thighs are in his hands and he’s opening me, revealing the wetness that already soaks the sheets. Then he’s pushing inside me, not even pausing to let my body adjust to the size of his intrusion. His thrusts are so deep and urgent, I swear he’s trying to burrow inside me to disappear forever. And from this angle—with my body still levitating inches from the bed—he can feel all of me, just as I can feel all of him, destroying what’s left of my control from the inside out.

  Realizing that my arms are no longer bound, I wrap one across his shoulders to fist his hair, pulling his head down to taste his lips. He wanted to deny me of his kiss—he wanted to keep me teetering on the precipice of insanity—but he bends to my will, fusing his mouth to mine.