“I don’t need power, little girl.”
“Then who?”
Dorian strokes my disheveled mane, making me suddenly conscious of the ragged state I arrived here in.
“I don’t know. There was no mandated order outside of mine. We have rules, Gabriella. We don’t kill for sport, despite what the Light may believe.”
An involuntary yawn escapes me and I try to muffle it against Dorian’s chest.
“You’re tired,” he observes.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.” There’s so much more I need to know, so much I want to ask him. About what he is. About what I am. “Are there others? Like you?”
“Yes, of course. Everywhere. Hidden in plain sight.”
“I think I saw one. Like you. The night after our first date, in the parking lot. I think it was coming after me. Scary as hell, like some type of freaky ghost-like figure. All distorted and demonic looking. It looked like you did. When you…changed. But it wasn’t you, was it?”
Dorian chuckles, and I sit up to check if he’s delusional. What the hell is so funny?
“Aurora,” he snickers. “She has a flair for the dramatic.”
Aurora? I knew it! “So she’s…”
“Dark, yes. She wouldn’t have hurt you though. She was just curious, maybe even a bit jealous. But she has been helping us, watching you when I can’t be here. Luckily, her involvement with that boy has made that task easier.”
Aurora’s sudden infiltration into my life has been more than a nuisance. But the realization that her involvement with Jared was orchestrated to get closer to me brings a tiny smile to my face. I know I shouldn’t be pleased with the charade but I can’t help but find comfort in the fact that their relationship isn’t real.
Way to be a bitch.
“So what’s the plan? If it’s not you, and it’s not Aurora, than how can I possibly elude whoever is out there hunting me? Especially when you don’t even know who it could be?” I stifle another yawn with the back of my hand.
“Well, for starters, the necklace,” Dorian says, tugging it gently from the inside of my sweatshirt. “It’s spelled to track you. You mustn’t take it off. This necklace…is you, Gabriella. The pearl signifies your human life- delicate, effervescent and so precious- protected by dazzling white brilliance. Yet you are also surrounded by the allure and equally radiant darkness. Just a little girl thrust into the very heart of all of us. Both Light and Dark.”
I reflexively place my fingers over the pendent of pearl and diamonds cradled in Dorian’s hand. He cups both it and my hand and smiles sweetly, taking my breath away. I don’t stop myself from tipping my head up and placing my lips on his. They feel so soft and warm, and before long a light moan erupts from my throat which Dorian relishes. My hands tug at his tie, unsuccessfully trying to loosen it. Luckily, Dorian removes it swiftly, giving me access to the buttons of his shirt where I begin to go to work on furiously. I straddle his lap, fumbling with the buttons as Dorian kneads my backside through my jeans.
“Wait,” he says suddenly, pulling my lips from his.
“What?” I ask breathless and confused.
“I have to give you something. And I don’t know how you’ll take it.”
“Ok,” I enunciate slowly. “What is it?”
Dorian opens his palm, revealing a tiny vial of iridescent liquid. I have no idea where it came from and I know it hasn’t been in his hand the entire time.
“What is that?” I ask, picking it up between my thumb and forefinger.
“Magic,” Dorian answers. “My magic, specifically. At least in part.” He takes the vial from my fingers and unscrews the top. “It will connect us. I’ll be able to feel your emotions, especially when you are in danger.”
I look at the pearlescent liquid skeptically then gaze up at Dorian with a raised brow. He rolls his eyes then sighs, taking the tiny bottle from me. He dabs a bit onto his finger and sticks it into his mouth. Just the sight of him sucking his finger causes my breath to hitch.
“See, perfectly safe. You have to believe me when I say I won’t hurt you, Gabriella. Besides, poison isn’t my style.”
My eyes widen with morbid curiosity. “Well, what is your style?”
Dorian scoffs before flashing me a sinister half-grin. “Let’s hope you never have to find out. I’m very good at what I do.” He brings the vial to my lips. “Now drink up.”
With a final deep breath, I let him tip the substance into my mouth. It’s sickly sweet and syrupy and I cringe a bit. A cool sensation sweeps through me, like winter in my veins. Yet, the cold evolves into a burn- a crackling fire in the midst of a snowstorm. It soothes and stimulates me all at once, sending my senses into a frenzy.
“Good girl.” Dorian shifts my body so that I am cradled in his arms, laying my cheek against his bare chest. “You will need to rest.”
“But I’m not tired,” I lie with a yawn.
Whatever was in that potion has suddenly intensified the fatigue. My eyelids feel like lead and even my breathing has grown deep and heavy. But I don’t want to sleep. I am afraid of waking up and finding that Dorian is gone. And all this- the reconstructed remains of our shattered relationship- really will be over. I need to see him, feel him in my arms, just so I know he is real. That what we have is real.
“Just keep talking to me,” I murmur lazily.
Dorian kisses the top of my head, his fingers twisting in the coils of my hair. “What do you want me to say, little girl?”
“Anything,” I breathe, letting my eyes close. I burrow my face into the smooth hardness of his bare chest and inhale his amazing scent. “Mmmm. Tell me a story.”
“A story.” Dorian squeezes me a bit tighter, holding me with such care. “Ok. You rest. I’ll talk.” I kiss his chest in response, smiling against his soft skin.
Dorian sighs heavily then begins his nostalgic tale in a distant tone. “A long, long time ago, there was a boy eager to become a man. But he was not the man that his father intended him to be. The boy was very rebellious, very spirited, yet very talented. He did not want to embrace the life that his father had mapped out for him. He wanted no part of the depraved role he was expected to fill. He rejected his destiny. This is virtually unheard of amongst his kind, especially considering his pedigree.
“The son strayed, choosing to pave his own way and make a name for himself through his own merit. And he did. Against all odds, the young man succeeded and was known for being an asset to the elite brotherhood of assassins he belonged to. He enjoyed it- the carnage, the brutality. He felt empowered; unstoppable. But soon, he realized he was becoming more and more like his father. He was embracing everything he sought out to avoid. Everything he fought like hell to reject.
“Soon the man was faced with a life-altering choice: defy his father, his people, and all he was taught to believe, or protect his friends and their unborn child. The young man knew what it meant to deceive his father; he knew he could never win. No one ever did. Yet, he chose the latter. He wanted to believe in something greater than the constant thirst for power and influence. He wanted to believe in something more substantial just as his friend had. He knew what this choice entailed. It meant that he would go up against the most powerful Dark force there was. He would defy his king. And no one defied the king and lived to tell about it. Not even his son, the Dark Prince.”
Before my weary mind can even begin to process Dorian’s sad, tormented tale, the heaviness of sleep blankets me, and I fall into the dark, warm depths of my subconscious mind.
Chapter Three
I stir awake, enraptured by complete darkness. The feel of slick satin against my bare legs informs me that I am in Dorian’s bed. He’s shed my rumpled clothing, draping me in what feels to be one of the satin nightgowns he purchased for me at Cashmere. My hands search for him in the space beside me though I know he isn’t there. The faint murmur of hushed voices wafts through the cracked bedroom door. One of the voices is a hitch-pitched soprano. Aurora.
She’s here, and from the sound of it, urgently pleading with Dorian. Her shrill voice is agitated, exasperated. I place my feet on the ground then lift myself up, successfully muffling the creaks and squeaks of the bed.
Virtually silent, I tiptoe to the door. I can hear parts of their hushed conversation from several yards away. Dorian is standing at the French windows, looking out into the blackness of the night. He shakes his head, his stance tense and rigid. Aurora stands just a few feet away from him, facing his back. Her hands are on her hips and I can tell she has a serious attitude. I strain to hear the details of their exchange.
“How could you be so careless, Dorian? Do you know what your father will do to me if he finds out?” Aurora whispers fiercely.
“What else could I have done? She knew. And it’s not like I could lie to her.” There’s a crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand. He brings it up to his lips and takes a swig.
“But to link her to you? Do you know what that means? You are already giving her too much of yourself. She will drain you completely. What if she’s playing you for a fool? She could very well already be consorting with the Light and is taking advantage of your weakness.”
Dorian’s head snaps back to look at her sharply. His eyes are alight with a vengeful warning. Aurora physically recoils at the sight of Dorian’s deep-seated darkness. He returns his attention back to the bleak night sky. Aurora swallows loudly, taking a moment to formulate her words more carefully. She takes a step forward, leaving less than a foot between her and Dorian’s broad back. Her perfectly manicured hand reaches out to rest on his shoulder. When he doesn’t react, she takes the opportunity to place her other hand on his back, and begins to lightly knead. I feel my fists ball at my sides, my jaw tight with rising anger.
“You know, you don’t have to go through with this. You don’t owe her anything. We could just end her. Now. You could regain your place at your father’s side; go home. And I would be right there with you, every step of the way. We could do this. Together. We could go right back in that room and kill-”
“Enough! You will not speak those words! Do you hear me?” Dorian growls viciously. Faster than I can see, he spins around, and meets Aurora’s terrified expression with his own icy glare. The air around him sizzles and shimmies, indicating that his wrath is near. His mouth is mere inches from hers when he seethes, “I am your prince. You will obey me. And you will not harm her. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Dorian. I…I…apologize. Please forgive me,” Aurora stammers.
Dorian’s eyes are still burning into hers, his lips tight with contempt. “You can come out, little girl,” he says gently, though his voice does not match his cold, menacing stare. He backs away from Aurora as if he is disgusted with her proximity.
I push the door open tentatively, unsure of how he knew I was standing there, though something tells me he knew the moment I began to stir. I walk across the room, painfully aware of Aurora’s embarrassed, yet hateful glare. I meet her eyes momentarily then snap back to Dorian’s now contented expression. Just being in each other’s presence is mollifying. I can’t even dwell on Aurora’s blatant disrespect for me or her pass at Dorian. All I see is him.
I brush past my lover’s bitter ex-girlfriend, and fold myself into his waiting embrace. He looks down at me and smiles before gently pressing my cheek to his chest. He makes me feel so precious, so cherished.
“Go, Aurora. I will summon you when I need you,” Dorian says dismissively. I can’t see her, but I can almost feel the heated tension rolling off of her.
I don’t look back up at Dorian until I hear the click of the front door behind the clatter of Aurora’s designer high heels.
“Why was she here?” I try to dispel the nagging desperation in my voice but I need to know.
“I summoned her. I had to inform her of your newfound knowledge.”
He leads us to the plush couch, continuing to embrace me lovingly. This time is different from when he first put his arm around me on this couch. Then, he was trying to be conscious of his movements, careful not to rouse any suspicion. Now he folds himself around my frame with graceful ease.
“Summoned her?” So what, he waited until I was asleep to call her? My jaw tenses with irritation.
Dorian nods. “Aurora and I can communicate without words. Telepathically. It’s common for our kind. Easier for us because we are…bonded,” he explains.
Bonded? What the… Oh. “Because you two have had sex.” Though I already knew they had an intimate past, just saying the words causes my chest to tighten and ache. Imagining Dorian with anyone else, especially Aurora, is like a kick to the gut.
“Yes,” he breathes, stroking my cheek. “I am not sure how it will hold once you ascend, but you and I are bonded as well. And more than just physically.”
Aurora did say something about a link between Dorian and me. Though I’m pretty sure I can’t hear his thoughts. “How so?”
“The vial I had you drink. It connects me to every part of you. I live inside you now.”
Dorian searches my eyes for reaction. Part of me wants to be angry with him for doing something so intrusive without my knowledge. But hearing him say that he lives in me is just damn erotic. And that’s exactly what I want- for him to be at home inside of me in every way.
“So how does that work?” I ask after a beat, deciding that I could possibly be okay with his invasiveness.
Dorian exhales with relief. “I can feel you, every one of your emotions. I’ll know when you’re sad, happy, lonely, afraid, aroused. But not only that, I will experience those emotions as if they are my own. Your pain becomes my pain. Your joy becomes my joy.”
“Wow. That’s not weird at all,” I remark sardonically.
“It’s necessary. I can also use through you if I need to. If you are in trouble, I can channel my power through you. But only in extreme cases. It takes twice as much energy from me.”
Unable to come up with a response, I simply nod. Dorian has thought of everything and I genuinely believe he wants to keep me safe, especially considering what he is up against. But even through all this, even with my acceptance of who and what he is, I still feel confused. Lost. Stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen to unsuspecting, underachieving girls like me. I don’t fit the profile. I’m not mousey, shy, or bookish. I’m not frail and awkward. I like to drink, curse too much, and have handed out my fair share of ass-whoopings. Not to mention, my virtue, or lack thereof, is about as mythical as Dorian himself.
I sigh and give my muddled thoughts in my brain a resigned shake. “So, your father is the king?” I ask, hoping to reignite our earlier conversation.
“Yes.”
“And you’re a prince? The Dark Prince?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why give all that up to save me? To keep my parents’ secret?” I’m trying hard to wrap my head around it but no sane person, immortal or not, would wage war against his own family, who just happens to be the ruling family of the Dark Ones. No big deal.
“I told you. I was becoming everything I was seeking to reject. I was becoming my father. Brash, evil, merciless. All magic has its price. I had to constantly kill just to retain my youth and power. It was becoming all-consuming.”
Yikes. I can’t imagine Dorian killing anyone. “And now? You don’t have to kill to replenish yourself?”
Dorian shrugs. “I have no need to use that much power anymore. The night sustains me enough, though it takes time. And I’m ashamed to admit that I breathe so much of you, I have no need to acquire any other source,” he says sheepishly. That’s comforting, I guess.
“And how do you know if you breathe too much?”
“If I take too much of you, my love, I will kill you. So I am very careful, and I give you me in return. But I worry. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t and you know that’s impossible for me,” he chuckles lightly. “I worry about not being able to resist you. Or how it would affect you in the long run.”
?
??What do you mean?”
“You are the Dark Light. Half Light and half Dark equally. But I am afraid of you becoming more Dark. I don’t want to eclipse the Light in you. I don’t want to change you.”
I contemplate Dorian’s words. He is right; I’ve worried about being more Dark than Light even before I knew about him. Could this be the fortune teller’s prophecy? She said that the Dark would consume me, yet I would welcome it. Was she killed because of what she saw in me?
“You’re hungry,” Dorian remarks.
“Huh?” I ask quizzically. There was only a faint rumble in my stomach. Even I didn’t really notice. Geez, he must have bionic hearing. Tack that on along with the psycho phantom face and the telepathy.
“Whatever you feel, Gabriella, I feel. So let me feed you,” he smiles.
After Dorian calls down to room service, we lounge on the couch, eating late night junk food like a regular couple on a Friday night. Even with our volatile showdown earlier and the unexpected arrival of Aurora, it’s nice. It still feels right. I can tell that Dorian has made every effort he possibly could not to scare me, even though I internally cringe every time his gaze turns icy or he moves too swiftly. He’s trying though; he’s here. And I’m alive. At this point, that’s all I could really ask for.
“When did you start to understand?” Dorian asks.
“Understand?” Realization hits me before Dorian has a chance to answer. “Oh, the language. I started getting bits and pieces at first. That night in the limo up at Breckenridge. I heard you and Aurora talking. About…killing me.” I give him my hard, unapologetic glare, refusing to let him slither out of this with a vague answer.
“Gabriella, we weren’t discussing killing you. You misunderstood. She was informing me of the Dark’s presence at the club the night before I arrived. She ensured you were safe, watched you. Like I said, there is no separate order for your death, not since I negotiated a deal with my father. However, I don’t trust anyone, and neither should you.”
“But you trust Aurora?” I say with a bit of nastiness, making it sound more like an accusation. I take a sip of wine to wash away the bitter taste of jealousy.