The Dark Prince (The Dark Light Series)

  “So things are going well with Dorian, I presume,” Chris states flatly, filling our glasses with wine.

  “Yes,” I say tersely. Looks like he wants to jump right in with the questions. I grab my glass and take a lengthy sip, preparing for battle.

  “Humph. So I’m assuming you’ll be aligning with the Dark upon your ascension.” Chris cuts into his meat, and places a portion into his mouth. Disappointment and judgment is written all over his face.

  I finish chewing my bite of food then gently place my silverware on the table. Looks like I can forget about a nice, relaxing family meal. “I haven’t actually decided. And I don’t really understand why I have to. I am equally Dark just as I am equally Light. Why should I have to choose one side and shun the other?”

  “This isn’t about being fair, Gabriella,” he says. “It’s about believing in something and devoting yourself to it. Natalia lived her life for the Light. And she died because she fell victim to the Dark allure.” Chris shakes his head as if to dispel any false speculation. “Now I’m not saying that your father didn’t love her; I know he did. Alex was a good man. But I can’t say the same about the rest of them.”

  I look over at Donna who is silently picking at her meal and nod weakly, not quite agreeing with Chris but not totally disagreeing either. I get what he’s saying. Other than Dorian, I can’t fully trust any Dark One as far as I could throw them. But the same could be said about the Light. I know nothing about them, and they’ve chosen to keep it that way. Why should I place my devotion in their hands?

  “But you once knew Dorian too. He sacrificed so much to protect my parents and their secret. He protected me before he even knew me. Why do you hate him so much?”

  “I don’t hate him, Gabriella. It’s because I know him that makes me so cautious. It’s what he’s capable of that worries me. He’s Dark. That’s not going to change no matter what you do. A tiger can’t change its stripes.”

  So what is he saying? That no matter what, Dorian will never be good? That he’ll always be a cold, callous assassin? I don’t want to change him; I never have. I love him for who and what he is. I just want to show him the good that’s already there, that’s been there all along. I don’t ever expect him to be anything less than Dark, just like he can’t expect me to be anything less than the indecisive, irrational, hot-headed Dark Light that I am.

  “I understand that I could never bring Dorian into the Light, if that’s what you’re implying. And I honestly don’t want to. It was you who told me that there is no absolute evil, just as there is no absolute good. Just because Dorian was born into a family that does not value the man that he is, that doesn’t make him a bad person. He’s proved that more than once already.”

  I take a deep breath and try to reflect just how deeply I feel for Dorian. I have to make them understand. “I see him, Dad. I know that sounds crazy, but I do. I know who he is and I’m not going to turn away from him just because of some ancient feud that isn’t even my fight to begin with. And if I did, that makes me no better than the ones that slaughtered my birth parents and left me an orphaned half-breed. They acted out of fear, out of hatred. I want to act out of understanding, acceptance. Love. Like Alex and Natalia did. Like you and Mom did when you took me in and raised me as your own.”

  Chris chews his food and swallows laboriously. He then picks up his glass of wine and downs it in one quick gulp before turning to me. Uh oh, here it comes. I down my wine as well, ready for the onslaught.

  “When did you get so smart, Kiddo?” he responds, pride and affection twinkling in his brown eyes.

  I smile at my dad, the man who cared for me from birth. The man who dried every tear and bandaged every scraped knee. “I had some really awesome parents. They taught me everything I know.”

  When I arrive home late that evening and have stowed the insane amount of leftovers packaged lovingly by Donna, I find Dorian is in my room waiting for me. I hadn’t seen nor heard from him since early the morning before when Jared and James had received a call from the hospital, informing them of their mom’s recovery. He dashed out of here, muttering something about tying up loose ends. I wasn’t about to beg him to stay. I needed to be happy for my friends and let them enjoy their moment of triumph. And as perturbed as I was by not hearing from Dorian, seeing him now, looking every bit as deliciously sexy as he always is in jeans and a dark knit V-neck tee, I can’t be mad at him. I know he had a good reason for staying away. At least that’s what I have to believe.

  “You’re back,” I remark, kicking off my sandals and tossing my purse onto my dresser. He really hates when I do this. He’s always so meticulously neat. Oh well, I can’t wave a finger and have my room magically transformed into a showroom. I trot into my conjoined bathroom to freshen up, knowing that it will be tidied when I emerge and secretly grin to myself.

  After brushing my teeth and throwing on an oversized tee, I find Dorian at the large window next to my bed. I’ve realized looking out into the darkness helps him think, gives him clarity. He’s holding a glass of scotch from the stash he keeps here for his visits. I think to wrap my arms around him and rest my head on the firm ripples of his back but I need answers before getting distracted by his body.

  I flop down onto my bed and pick up the tiny remote to my stereo system, looking for something mellow and cathartic. I opt for Coldplay; I have a feeling it’s going to be a long, emotional night.

  “I had to make sure he was gone,” he says after a few strained minutes.

  Oh. I don’t dare ask him to clarify; I know who he means. His father. The dashing, charming, yet disgustingly manipulative Dark King.

  “And he is, I presume.” I try to sound unbiased, unaffected but I just can’t seem to wash away the aggravation from my voice.

  Dorian finally looks to me, a mixture of remorse and relief in his eyes. He takes another sip of his potent poison then hands it to me. I purposely take a sip in the same spot that his succulent lips have just kissed before setting it on my bedside table. I look up at him in expectance of his explanation for his disappearing act.

  “I needed to be certain that he would not come for you. Occupy him, entertain him with…other things.” Dorian picks up the crystal glass and downs its contents as if to wash away the vile memory of spending quality time with his dad.

  I have a pretty good idea of what Dorian means. The Dark King is a known philandering murderer. Who knows what kind of disgusting, kinky activities he’s into? And what could that mean for Dorian? Was he expected to engage in the same? I can’t bring myself to even entertain the notion.

  “And he was…satisfied? Enough to leave?”

  Ick. No matter how handsome, refined or alluring his father is, imagining him getting his rocks off by causing someone bodily harm is revolting. I physically cringe at the thought of the brutality.

  “I’d say so. But I know what you’re thinking. He is a little more tactful than you would expect. You’d be surprised. The women are just as depraved and immoral. They like it. They beg him for it.” Dorian takes a single finger and lifts my chin up to meet his gaze. “I don’t do any of it. Ever. I don’t want to and I never have.”

  “I know,” I murmur, refusing to meet his gaze. And I do know. Dorian could have any woman in the world. Any. But he came here. I’m not overly confident in myself, yet I am not stupid or insecure enough to pester him with trivial girl worries.

  “Do you? Because I feel like there’s something else. Like something you’re keeping from me. You’re uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not uncomfortable.” I whisper, wringing my hands.

  Dorian gives me a knowing look accompanied by a skeptical smirk. Shit. Can he feel everything?

  I take a deep breath and look up at the gorgeous creature before me, hoping like hell that I don’t offend him. “Ok, ok. It’s just…I’m trying to understand what happened. I know you say you hate your father and he is…disappointed with the choices you’ve made. But being Dark, the things you’
ve rejected, the things that you dislike in him, don’t they just come natural for your kind? I know my father, Alex, was different, but so are you. If there are more that feel like you do, and I’m sure there are, why is consorting with the Light so forbidden? And why am I the only one of my kind?”

  Dorian’s gaze darkens a bit yet I don’t feel it is in anger or even desire. No, this is something else, another layer to the enigma that is the man I love. Maybe shame? Regret?

  “You are perceptive, little girl.”

  With a sigh, Dorian sits beside me, kicking off his shoes before scooting himself upward so he is reclining on the mound of pillows. Usually he would have somewhat manifested in the spot but I notice that he hasn’t used since he’s arrived. Did he overexert himself during his father’s visit? Is he weakened?

  He pulls me into his arms, placing my head on his hard, warm chest. Ahhh. This is heaven. Feeling him, having him close to me, makes me feel like all is right in the world, and there are no murderers, no sociopathic fathers, no Light, no Dark. Just us.

  “First of all, we didn’t start out as evil. When the Divine Power created us, we were literally made to rule the dark, the night. Just as the Light were made to control the day. Sort of like nature’s guardians.

  “But as time went on, the worldly temptations that were shrouded in the dark hours of night grew undeniable to our kind, and the Dark became consumed with lust, greed, power. They wanted to rule the night and everything else, and would stop at nothing to obtain their desires. Even kill to sate the thirst for omnipotence. Thus spawning the idea that darkness is synonymous for evil.”

  “So it’s true? There is no such thing as absolute evil?” I knew it! Dorian could never be completely immoral, even if he tried. There truly is good in him.

  “No. Not originally. But over time, our power evolved into something else. Something dark and destructive. We lost our ability to heal, our ability to help others unselfishly. Our ability to love and show compassion naturally. We were completely corrupted.”

  I nod against his chest, trying to formulate a way of tactfully asking my next question. “So, um, if the Divine Power created you, the Dark, why couldn’t he, you know, end you? I mean, I’m glad that didn’t happen for obvious reasons, but it seems like the logical solution.”

  I feel Dorian’s lips in my hair then hear him swiftly inhale, breathing life back into his weary body. He needed this contact for more than the comfort of our close proximity.

  “We were created to be complementary to the Light. Two separate yet equal powers. We are the Yin and Yang. Without one, the other cannot survive. To destroy us would also end the Light.”

  Oh. That makes sense. Also keeps the Dark from completely annihilating the Light. Driving the Light into extinction would be suicide.

  “There were other consequences.” Dorian gently lifts me off of his chest to lift his shirt. A sharp breath reflexively catches in my throat at the sight of his smooth, delicious torso. “The tattoo. We, the Dark, are marked. Only other supernatural creatures can see it as a way to warn them of our treachery, to shame us for our transgressions. You’ve heard of the Mark of the Beast?”

  I furrow my brow in confusion. “From the book of Revelation? But I thought that was 666? And wasn’t that, like, towards the end of the world or something?”

  Geez, this is getting creepy.

  Dorian shakes his head before sliding his shirt back down to cover his magnificence. Dammit. But I can’t be distracted with my carnal desires, not when he is sharing so much with me.

  “Each is the name of our clan, or our family. The Skotos, the Órexes, and even your father’s family, the Polemos, are all branded. There are many others, though the Skotos have been the ruling family for thousands of years, long before even my father was created. However, it has been said that there will be one that will wear the true Mark of the Beast.”

  Dorian strokes my cheek with back of his hand, letting his touch linger for a long beat at my chin. “Some believe it will be you.”

  “What?!” I scream, with no regard for courtesy or modesty. Oh hell no! Did he just say what I think he said? Of all the bizarre conversations, this has to be the most asinine, ridiculous, sacrilegious one yet. I look at Dorian with wild, horrified eyes. “Are you trying to say that I’m the freakin’ antichrist?!”

  Dorian chuckles before shaking his head. “No, no, calm down. Of course not. But you are a unique breed, so to speak. People will try to breathe truth into any fable they don’t quite understand. It is not you; only the Divine Power knows who and when. You are quite the opposite. Your birth was considered the coming of a new dawn. A savior…to the Light, that is.”

  Whew. Disaster averted. I don’t even feel comfortable discussing the end of days, let alone contributing to it. “How so?” I ask, thankful for the change in direction. I let out a deep sigh of relief and nestle back into his arms.

  “Their hope is that you will restore the balance, bring peace amongst the Light and Dark. While most of the Light are hopeful that you will succeed in this by aligning with them, there are others who fear your power.”

  “And the Dark? How do they feel about my presence?” I ask meekly. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.

  Dorian shrugs. “Obviously, there are those of us who don’t want peace. They don’t want to restore the natural order. Then there are some who feel that your power could be…useful.”

  “Your father,” I whisper. He wants to use me, keep me as his little pet to attack those who defy him.

  “Yes.” Dorian’s hands find their way to my scalp, and he begins to massage. I instantly feel all the tension drain from my body. Dorian and those magic fingers.

  “Is that why you hate him? Because he doesn’t want peace? Because he likes this corrupted regime?”

  “That’s not the only reason. The Dark, especially the Skotos, were corrupt long before his rule. And sadly, so was I. I’m no boy scout but honestly, it was just getting old. Decades of killing, sating my wanton desires without regard, straying from our true purpose. I wanted something else, something more. I knew it was out there but I never truly felt it until I found you.” I feel Dorian’s soft lips kiss the crown of my head lovingly. I squeeze my arms tighter across his waist in response.

  “And he wanted to keep you from finding it, from finding happiness,” I say, trying to piece together the scattered remains of Dorian and his father’s strained relationship. Every child wants love and acceptance from their parents, even when the parents are degenerate villains. There has to be another reason. The Dark King must’ve personally hurt his son in some awful way. A pang of sorrow strikes my chest and I stifle a pained gasp.

  “Yes.” I feel Dorian’s body become rigid with apprehension but before I can excuse him from his painful account, he takes a deep breath and continues. “I was very young, not even a century old. I wanted the world. Ambitious, strong, stubborn. Aurora was in my life then. We had plans for the future, and I really thought she was what I wanted.”

  Oh. Aurora. The stunning, seductive sex goddess. The fancy slore in expensive shoes. His first love.

  Her intrusion into our intimate conversation makes my throat tighten and I fight the urge to groan my disdain. I know they had a very colorful sex life. After seeing how sensual their power exchange was for myself, how could I deny their intense chemistry? He wanted her. And even though I know his feelings for her have changed dramatically since they were young, I can’t help but feel a little twinge of jealousy at the history and connection they share.

  Dorian lifts my chin up a bit to meet my mouth with his. His taste revitalizes every nerve in my body. He is sustenance; I need him like I need air. He must feel my irrational resentment and wants me to know that he is here for me and me alone. I’d be a fool to doubt his intentions after all he’s shared this evening.

  “My father had a different view of who I was to be. The thought that one day I could sit on his throne secretly frightened him. He likes the authority; h
e likes to feel as if he should be worshipped as a god. It was never what I wanted, and he feared that one day I would succumb to my…humanity. So he thought if he could break me, could unleash my inner demons, I’d either embrace his way or run away from it altogether.”

  Dorian gives my arm a little squeeze as if he’s trying to brace himself for the painful memory that he’s kept hidden all these years. “As I told you, Aurora is an Órexis. And if there is one thing that the Órexes cannot deny it is sexual desire. I thought my affections were enough to sustain her. I was wrong.”

  I look up at the strong, beautiful man before me. Though his voice is level and unaffected, I know he has been hurt. How could he not be enough for any woman? And not just in the sexual sense either. Dorian, the kind, mesmerizing, mysterious, sexy, humble man I fell head over heels in love with is more than enough. He is everything.

  Dorian sighs, letting go of the tension that has bound him in his solemn recollection. “My father’s method of seduction to lure Aurora was not unlike what he has tried to do with you. Once he knows your deepest, darkest secrets, he manipulates you into thinking that he can provide anything you want, anything you need.

  “Aurora went to him willingly unbeknownst to me. She offered herself to him; she wanted to pleasure him. And as they were engaged in the heinous act, he summoned me so I could see for myself just how insanely depraved and wicked he really is. Aurora couldn’t say anything. She had no explanation for what she had done. And I can’t fully blame her. He took advantage of her weaknesses, her fears, her desires.”

  My already aching heart completely splinters at Dorian’s divulgence. How could his own father, the man who gave him life, be so revoltingly vicious? Not to mention, sleep with his girlfriend and then call his son in to witness it? I want to cry, scream, fight for my scorned lover. Yet I hold in my pained sobs, knowing that feeling my grief will only bring him more torment.