MY EYES FLUTTER open only to be met with complete darkness. Where am I? I feel around frantically for any sign of familiarity, realizing that I’m alone in my new bed. I’m disoriented and naked. Shit. What time is it? Where is Dorian? I don’t even remember falling asleep.
The lights flicker on and I raise my hand to shield my adjusting eyes. I look around me frantically to find the source of light and see Dorian sitting on the chaise lounge. He’s slouching, his elbows resting lazily on his knees, a drastic change from his usual poised stance.
“Dorian? Is everything ok? Are you alright?” I ask sitting straight up. I think to climb out of bed and go to him but my muscles are still stiff with exhaustion.
Dorian doesn’t budge. He still has not raised his head to meet my gaze or even acknowledge my presence, though I’m certain he is the one who turned on the lights as soon as he realized I was awake.
“What’s going on? Dorian, please talk to me!” I shout with urgency. I’m afraid; has he been hurt?
Dorian lifts his head and reveals the reason why he was reluctant to show himself to me. His eyes are dark and menacing. Cold. Yet there is pain and remorse in them. Something has surely transpired while I was asleep and I automatically begin to think the worst.
“What happened? You can tell me,” I say just above a whisper.
Dorian’s expression is desolate and unreadable, giving nothing away. His mouth opens just a fraction before closing shut. He wants to tell me, he needs to, but he’s… frightened? No. He could never be scared of anything. I couldn’t imagine a force more powerful or terrifying than he. However, something has surely shaken him and I am writhing in the unknown.
“I apologize, my love,” he finally whispers.
What? Oh no. Has he gone to see Aurora? Did he breathe her? Shit!
Dorian shakes his head a bit, dispelling my trivial worries. “I was unsuccessful.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It didn’t work. I couldn’t…I didn’t,” he stammers. He takes a deep breath then lets his ice blue eyes meet mine, emanating hurt and regret. “I couldn’t fix her, Gabriella.”
I take in a sharp breath, trying to digest what he’s telling me. “What does that mean?”
Suddenly, Dorian is next to me, wisps of charcoal smoke surrounding him before quickly dissipating. He turns to me urgently, seething with contempt and rage, his eyes burning deadly blue fire. His hands fly up to cup my face, bringing it up to meet his intense gaze.
“It means she is stuck, a pile of nothingness. Just. Like. Me. Forever petrified, frozen like a fucking corpse until we can find another way. Or until I kill the fucker who did this.”
“Dorian, please calm down,” I whisper, reaching a tentative hand up to stroke his face. He instantly recoils, scooting away to put space between us.
“Calm down? Ha! What world do you live in, Gabriella? Because that’s where I wanna go. Where everything is just fucking ponies and gumdrops,” he spews angrily.
“That was uncalled for,” I mumble casting my glassy eyes down to my knotted hands on the comforter.
“Yeah it was. And you know what? That’s the reality. All of this is uncalled for.” Dorian’s breathing is rapid as if he’s just run the length of the apartment complex. But I know he is not physically winded. He’s enraged and trying to get his emotions in check before he explodes.
He looks back up at me with remorseful eyes, searching for understanding. “You have no idea what it’s like, Gabriella,” he whispers.
I gaze at my Dark lover, equally pained at his erratic desperation. “Then tell me.”
Dorian shakes his head a bit, trying to dispel the memories that still haunt him. He can’t bring himself to say it. We sit for several minutes in silence, him looking out into the night through the window, me looking at him, trying to beckon him to talk to me. Finally Dorian turns his head to me, and his icy cold guise has thawed. My Dorian has come back to me.
“When my father summoned me, I knew there would be consequences for my omissions. No one defies the king. I was certain that I would be put to death and I was accepting of it.” Dorian looks away for a bit as if he can’t look his truth in the eye. “But as he stared down at me, so cold and callous- deadened- I became afraid. I didn’t want to die. I hadn’t even lived yet. Over 200 years and I still felt like something was missing.”
He runs a hand over his solemn face. “I was a coward, Gabriella. I should have chosen death. But as I looked up at my father, as I saw the contempt, the disgust, the sheer hatred he had for me, I was afraid. I couldn’t do it.”
The thought that Dorian could be afraid of anything brings me up short. He is so strong, so confident. To me, he’s invincible. Yet, every time he has mentioned his father, he has been visibly disturbed. How could he be frightened of his own father? What kind of monster is he?
“What happened to you?” I whisper, understanding just an inkling of Dorian’s grief.
Dorian shakes his head, refusing to speak about the terrors that plague him.
“Please,” I beg. “Please don’t shut me out.”
He turns to me, his face twisted with disgust. “What if I told you that my own father is the epitome of evil? So revolted by his own son that he personally carried out my sentence? That he took pleasure in stripping away my power, leaving me a pathetic, lifeless shell? And if given the chance, would be more than happy to end me for good?”
I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. My eyes water but I refuse to acknowledge the tears. I need to be strong for Dorian. This moment isn’t about my agony, it’s about his.
“Then I’d say that he is the worst kind of monster that ever existed. And that you are so much better, so much stronger than he is,” I croak with a wavering voice.
Dorian shakes his head, refusing to believe my words. “I have taken dozens of lives. Death meant nothing to me. I’ve sucked the life out of more people than I can remember. I’ve enjoyed the brutality. I was addicted to it. The thrill of the hunt, chasing them down only made me want to slaughter them more. I was like a bloodthirsty animal. Tell me, does that sound like someone that deserves love or death?”
Slowly, I extend my hand towards him, holding my breath and preparing for his rejection. He remains still, and I let my hand rest on his. “Everyone deserves love, Dorian.”
“Really?” he asks incredulously. “Serial killers? Terrorists? Rapists? Do they deserve love? Because I am no better than them.”
I mull over Dorian’s question in my head. Could I love a serial killer or a rapist? No, absolutely not. Those people deserve nothing but a slow, torturous death. Dorian is not like them. He is not even a person at all. He is the Dark Prince, a supernatural magic force of evil. And he does deserve love. Who he is expected to be and the man before me, the man that I love, are not aligned, regardless of what he’s done.
“You are not them, Dorian. You are good. I don’t care what you did before. The Dorian I know is good.” I let my hand stroke his beautiful, forlorn face. “Dealing with this, trying to help Tammy, brought it all back to the surface for you, huh?”
“Yes,” he nods slowly.
“I should have never asked you to get involved. I was desperate and I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry.” Shit. I should have been more sensitive instead of just assuming Dorian could do it.
“No,” he shakes his head. “It is not your fault. I should have been stronger.”
I scoot closer to him and awkwardly try to wrap my arms around his tense, rigid body. “Don’t say that. You are strong. It’s okay to be afraid, Dorian.”
His glazed eyes focus on nothing in particular. “When I saw her, staring blankly, unable to talk, move, anything… it reminded me of myself. It was like looking down and seeing your worst nightmare. But your worst nightmare is you.”
“You don’t have to live that anymore,” I whisper gently, rubbing his back. I begin to feel him release some of the tension that binds him so tightly. “You’re not that person anymore. You’re free.”
Dorian turns his body towards mine, his eyes searching for something in my mask of a reassuring smile. Because he knows the truth; he knows how I really feel. I’m just as afraid as he is. No one is really free, not until the killer is found. And even then, we are all slaves to our alliances, our heritage. We are slaves to the magic that flows through our veins. Whether we are taught to kill or taught to heal, taught to love or taught to hate, we have to choose a side.
And as I squeeze Dorian tight, I know that my own choice will annihilate me. I can’t lose him by aligning with the Light, pledging to go against the Dark that threaten to extract their power. Yet I could never side with the Dark, abandoning everything my parents, both biological and adopted, taught me and become a ruthless savage. I am stuck, frozen in my own petrification, just like Dorian. And right now, not even his love can fix me.