THE NEXT MORNING, I awaken to the soft thudding of Dorian’s beating heart. My head rests on his smooth, bare chest and his arms are wrapped tightly around me. This feels so good, so right. I want to pretend to still be asleep but judging by the sounds resonating from the kitchen, everyone is already up and at ‘em. Plus the bathroom is calling my name. I try to ease out from under his embrace when he begins to stir.
“No. No. I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
I look up, expecting to see him peering at me but his eyes are still shut tightly, his brow furrowed with angst. Again, he mutters something but it’s in Greek, I believe. However, the anguish in his voice tells me that he is urgently pleading. The tone of his voice changes, and so does the language. It is the unnamed language from last night, the one he spoke with Aurora. I can pick up a few words but they are so random that they don’t make much sense to me.
“No…Mine…Don’t…Please.”
I reach out to stroke his cheek to comfort him, and he jerks awake. His eyes are wild, searching, disoriented. He then crushes my body to his, holding me tightly in his arms for several silent seconds. I don’t dare utter a word; who knows what has caused him such distress. When he finally loosens his grip, I look up to give to him a reassuring, yet weak, smile before retreating to the bathroom, leaving him confused and disheveled.
As I brush my teeth, I can’t help but wonder if I handled the situation correctly. Did he expect me to say something to soothe him? Should I have stayed and asked him what he was dreaming about? No. If he wanted to tell me, he would have. I could never reveal the content of my nightmares; why should I expect him to?
After we’re all dressed and packed, we begrudgingly say goodbye to our vacation home. We pile into the van and head into town to have brunch before hitting the road. Dorian didn’t drive his car here so I assume he hired a car service to bring him. I don’t question him, just like I don’t question the heated glances between him and Aurora over waffles, bacon, and eggs. They are not passionate or longing stares. They are...odd, to say the least. Their expressions reflect those of an intense, serious conversation, yet neither one of them says a word.
“So Miguel, what are your sister’s plans after high school? She graduates in a few weeks, right?” I ask, trying to distract my overactive imagination.
“Yeah, she does, but I have no idea what her plans could be. Carmen is adamant about not going to a traditional university. She’s really into fashion design and wants to attend some fashion and art institute. The problem is my parents just can’t afford it. I wouldn’t have been able to go to college if it weren’t for my scholarship. So she’s looking for a job to help her get into that industry. And we all know the Springs isn’t that cutting edge when it comes to stuff like that.”
“What? Not into Mountain Chic?” Morgan chuckles. She gives Miguel a flirtatious smile and I notice him stroking her back. They definitely hooked up last night.
“Well, let me know if she doesn’t find anything she really likes. I might be able to help her,” I say.
I look over at Dorian, who has returned his attention to me, and give him a wink. I told him I’d accept his job offer only if I could do the hiring. And firing. Meaning Little Miss Allison will have to flaunt her perky breasts elsewhere. Not being that fashion savvy myself, Carmen could be just what I need to help me run Cashmere. Plus, I know she’s trustworthy and hardworking. I’d be helping out a friend and helping myself as well.
Once we’ve gotten on the road, I rest my head on Dorian’s shoulder and fold my feet into the seat. We’ve claimed the back row while James, Miguel and Morgan sit in front of us. Jared has offered to drive this time so he and Aurora sit in the front seats. This time the trip is different. Everyone is engaging in lighthearted conversation and getting along. It gives me hope that there will be many more trips together as a group.
“Hey, before I forget, I wanted to invite you to Morgan’s house this weekend,” I whisper to Dorian. “Her parents are throwing her a little get together in honor of her getting her license and landing a great job at such a fabulous salon.”
Dorian instantly becomes rigid. “When is it?”
“This Saturday. And of course, my parents would be there. That is, if you want to meet them.” Yikes. I literally hold my breath until he answers.
“Yeah, you see, I would but I don’t think that’s such a good idea. With me technically being Morgan’s boss, I don’t want it to look like I’m showing her any favoritism. I’m sure other employees of the salon will be there.” Dorian toys with a lock of my hair and twirls it around his finger. “Don’t want to give them the wrong impression.” He plants a kiss on my pouting lips to silence any questioning. He knows the affect he has on me and he’s taking full advantage of my weakness.
“You look younger,” I murmur quietly, once he pulls away.
“Do I?” he asks in an equally hushed voice. I notice Aurora’s head turns just a fraction from the front seat. She must be able to hear our whispers, though I’m positive no one else can.
“You do. Successful trip, I assume?” I cock my head to one side and give him a pointed stare.
“I guess you could say that. Just took care of some things. And conveyed a status report. Not very eventful.”
“Will that happen often? You running off to Greece?” My tone is desperate, almost pained. Feelings that startle me.
Dorian looks at me intensely, his eyes searching mine for the reason behind my sudden show of emotion. “Yes.”
I feel my face drop so I quickly turn my head to look at the blur of passing trees out the window. I hate myself for feeling like this, feeling so vulnerable and needy. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotionally involved, that I could separate my body from my heart. Who was I kidding? That could have never happened. Dorian is the most sensual, intense, mesmerizing man I have ever met. He has made love to every single part of me, inside and out. I set myself up for failure from the start.
Dorian leaves me with my tortured thoughts and doesn’t attempt to question me. He’s giving me space, exactly what I need in this moment. It’s crazy how well he knows me and how little I know about him. I don’t know what awaits him in Greece. He could have a wife and kids there, and live some salacious double life. As gorgeous, successful, and, well, perfect as he is, it is certainly possible. Why wouldn’t he be attached?
“Don’t think too much,” Dorian whispers, his lips suddenly at my ear.
I look at him skeptically. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” he answers with a raised eyebrow.
“Say things to me as if you know what I’m thinking.” I’m a bit annoyed at the possibility that he could be invading on my private thoughts. My pathetic ramblings are for me and only me.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Dorian chuckles. “I’m not a mind reader. Just perceptive, which isn’t difficult considering my…background. And yours too.”
“What do you mean, ‘your background’? And mine? What are you talking about?” I scoot closer to him and look at him anxiously.
“Your aura, Gabriella. I can see it. Just like you can see mine.” Dorian assesses my shocked, mortified expression. “It’s ok, you know. All kinds of average, ordinary people can see auras, too. It’s really no big deal.”
Whoa. So Dorian definitely knows that I’m different. But how different? And why is he just now divulging that he knows about my abnormality? All this time trying to ignore the vivid colors that halo his magnificence, and all the while he can see it too. In some odd way, I feel comforted with this revelation. Less alone in my new life. Though it is impossible for Dorian to be exactly like me, he’s something. He can relate, sympathize. But that’s as far as it goes.
I give Dorian a weak grin and shake my head. “You’re not like me. No one is.”
His finger captures my chin and he turns it to face him, his eyes wild with intense emotion. “I’m more like you than you think.”
“Ok, bathroom break!” Jared calls from the driver’s seat, pulling into the parking lot of a gas station. I hadn’t even noticed we were slowing down.
Dorian and I stare at each other intently, neither of us wanting to look away, yet we don’t want to delve any deeper. He’s like me? That’s preposterous. The Light vowed to remain out of my life until I pledged my allegiance to them. And he can’t be Dark. He just can’t. There’s no way that someone so kind, generous, loving and passionate could be Dark. I may not know him as well as I’d like, but I know that Dorian doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. He is the best kind of good that there is. I could never be that blind, that stupid. Right?
Reluctantly, I break his hold on my gaze to look towards the front of the van just as James hops out. Refusing to acknowledge the static between Dorian and me, I maneuver myself out of my seat and exit the van. I consciously walk ahead to catch up with Morgan, though I can hear Dorian’s footsteps behind me. I need to put some space between us; I need to escape the magnetism that draws me to him like a moth to a flame and renders me completely foolish. He makes me forget all caution and sensibility, allowing me to abandon my usual skeptical, distrusting nature. I need some normalcy. I need my best friend.
Unfortunately, when we enter the ladies room, Aurora is there in all her grand perfection, looking anything but normal. Looks like my pow-wow with Morgan will have to wait, though I have no clue what I would tell her. It’s not like I could be honest with her. And what would honesty entail? I am not even sure I could even explain my suspicions about Dorian to her without her laughing in my face or running for the hills. No. I can’t confide in Morgan with this.
I spend the remainder of the ride into the Springs with a pleasant smile plastered on my face. Dorian has also abandoned his natural smoldering intensity and is engaging in casual conversation with the rest of the guys about random sporting events, or something equally monotonous. They could honestly be talking about killing puppies and the same dumb grin would be plastered on my face. My head is elsewhere. Dorian keeps dropping these bombs of truth on me, totally making me question my own judgment, which up until now was one of my most redeeming qualities. Unless tequila is involved, of course. But why would he do that? If he is truly Dark, wouldn’t he want to conceal his identity in order to deceive, and then eventually, kill me?
“Would you like to come up?” Dorian asks as we pull up to the main building at the Broadmoor. We have already taken Aurora to her posh downtown apartment which, to my dismay, is not too far away.
“I better get home. Parents will be expecting me.” It’s the truth; I haven’t sent more than a couple text messages to confirm my safety the entire weekend.
Dorian slightly nods then leans forward to plant a gentle kiss on my lips. “You know where to find me,” he murmurs before exiting the van.
As we pull away from the Broadmoor, away from Dorian, anxiety and sorrow creep into my chest. The farther we travel, the more distance wedged between Dorian and I, the worse I feel. I want to tell Jared to turn back around, to take me back to the man that I love. I want run back into his arms where safety and security live but I know I have to go home. The thought of being miles away from him unsettles me. I can literally feel the dull ache gripping my heart. I don’t understand it, and frankly, it scares me.
By the time we pull up to Briargate, I am barely holding onto my sanity. Pain is etched in my face, though I ignore the questioning glances from my friends. They don’t understand. They never could. This goes so far beyond being in love with Dorian. I need him. He’s ensured that. This is exactly what he wants. He wants me so dependent on him that I can’t say no. I have to fight the crippling urge to run back to him. If I do, then he will own me completely. I struggle to gulp down the rising taste of melancholy in my tight throat and flash a weak smile goodbye. Chris and Donna can’t see me like this. They will surely know that something is wrong.
“Gabriella! Oh thank goodness you are home!” my mom says rushing to me as soon as I open the door. Sheesh.
“It’s only been a couple days, Mom. Nice to see you too,” I murmur as she squeezes me in an urgent embrace. Chris is right behind her, a somber look on his face. Shit. Something is wrong. “What’s up? Everything ok?”
Chris takes my bag from me and quickly closes the door, locking it. He ushers us to the living room where I flop down on the couch. Mugs of tea and papers litter the coffee table, an unusual sight in the ordinarily pristine room.
“This came for you, Kiddo,” Chris says sliding one of the papers towards me. His disturbed expression alerts me and I automatically think it’s a letter from my school. Crap. Am I failing a class? Does it say I won’t graduate in a couple weeks?
I take the white sheet in my hands and hold my breath as I look at the words scrawled in black ink. It’s worse than I initially thought. So much worse. Yet fear does not greet me. Only rage. Extreme rage that causes my face to heat and my knuckles to turn white over my fists. I’m shaking with violent anger and my jaw is tightly clenched, causing my gums to hurt from the pressure.
Dark Light,
We know who you are. And we are watching.
Eleven months.
Align with the Dark or Die.
It’s the last thing I see before every light bulb in the living room grows blindingly bright, then pops and shatters instantaneously, leaving us all shrouded in complete darkness.