Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (21 page)

Huh?
Never sick? It’s true, come to think of it. I was never ill as a child, not even as much as a cold. But I just chalked it up as me having a healthy immune system.

I shake my head at Chris. “I don’t know. I can’t involve you and mom any more. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“What are you talking about? Who is getting hurt?” 

“Those girls!” I shriek.

“That wasn’t your fault, Gabi,” my dad says exasperated. He feels I’m being irrational and he despises self-loathing. Like me, usually, though lately I've been a major hypocrite.

“But what if it was? What if it was me?” I say barely above a whisper. “Dad, I think I’m more Dark than Light.”

Chris lets his head drop, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He looks back up at me with assurance. 

“Gabriella, you are not Dark. Yes, your biological father was a Dark One but that means nothing. There is a misconception that all Dark are absolutely evil. And that all Light are completely good. If that were true, how could they murder Natalia, a woman whose only crime was love, and force her to abandon her newborn child? 

“There is good and evil in everyone, even we mere mortals,” he winks. “Your father, Alex, was not all evil. He loved your mother. He loved you. They say the Dark are incapable of love. Maybe he was an exception to the rule. Maybe not.” 

My dad reaches over and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You’re good, Kid. Yeah, you’ve been known to crack a few skulls-,” he chuckles. 

“Hey!” I protest playfully.

“But you’re good. Don’t forget that. And when you ascend, no matter which side you choose, you’ll still be good.” 

Chris leans over to give me a reassuring kiss on my forehead but before he can pull away, I wrap my arms around him. He slowly embraces me into a big bear hug. I feel like a little girl again, afraid of the boogie man. But in this case, I’m afraid of
being
the boogie man. 

We finally pull away from our embrace, both of us feeling renewed. Chris ruffles the top of my head as if I’m an 8 year old boy. I believe he always pictured me as the son he never had. He stands and makes his way towards the door.

“Before you go, can I ask you a question?” I say. It’s always been in the back of my mind but I never thought it was appropriate to ask. But now I’m wondering if it had something to do with me. “Why didn’t you and Mom ever have kids of your own? Was it because you were afraid I’d be a danger to them?”

Chris looks at me sullenly.
Oh no
, it was just as I thought. He then shakes his head as if reading my mind, dispelling my doubts. “No, of course it wasn’t because of you. You’ve never been a danger.” Chris takes a deep breath and drops his head a bit, unable to make eye contact. His hands turn into hard fists, the stretched skin over his knuckles turning white, almost translucent. “The Warlock, who attacked your mother…
did
things to her. Horrible, disgusting things. She isn’t able to conceive children. Natalia healed her the best she could but the damage was too severe.” 

“Oh,” is all I can choke out. 

I can tell the thought of someone so brutally violating his wife still enrages him. He nods just a fraction and exits without saying another word, and I regret conjuring that horrible memory.

I glance over at my haunted cell phone. There’s no point in hiding out in my room. If I am a threat, four walls won’t be able to hold me. I have to believe in what my dad says. He knows me better than some cheap carnival fortune teller with an overactive imagination. I’ve never been a threat to anyone who didn’t deserve it. And even then I was never capable of murder. That whole scene last night must’ve been an orchestrated coincidence. I tentatively pick up my cell and begin to tap rapidly on the keypad.

To Dorian, 3:18 P.M.

-How about that raincheck?

I’ve got to start somewhere. And no one makes me forget my unease better than Dorian.

Ding! Ding!

-I’ll be home around 5
.

-See you then ;)

Yes!
What is it about that man that instantly brings a smile to my face? I still hardly know him yet his presence is oddly soothing. He has such an effect on me- on my body, more specifically. Every touch is like a shock to my system. And his ability to make me explode with just his piercing blue eyes…how the hell does he do that? Some Tantric sex technique? The man has talent, that’s for sure.

I devour the pastrami on rye with haste and then jump in the shower, ensuring that I am groomed to perfection. Noticing that my hair smells like a mixture of hot grease and peanuts, I give it a quick wash. Once I’m clean, dry, moisturized and blow dried, I head to my room to pick out my outfit for the evening. 

Knowing that what’s under my clothes will be more awe-inspiring, I choose a super skimpy, see-through mesh bra and panty set that I bought while lingerie shopping with Morgan. It’s black with pale pink trim and little ruffles on the butt. I haven’t had a chance or a reason to wear it before now. It looks pretty hot on me, and I’m tempted to show up to Dorian’s suite wearing only the sexy undergarments, a trench coat and high heels.
Yeah right
, Chris would wring my neck! I opt for a charcoal grey sweaterdress and knee-high boots as an alternative.

I make the trip across town listening to some sultry R&B tunes to get me in the mood. It reminds me of the first ride I took with Dorian, and the memory makes me smile instinctively. Dorian really does make me happy. I want to keep this casual, maybe even a little superficial, but something within me wants a little more. It’s selfish of me, I know, because I could never ever give him all of me. But is it wrong of me to want all of him? Can I try to have something substantial with him while hiding such a crucial secret about who and what I am?

I pull up to the Broadmoor and marvel at its splendor. It’s even more expansive than I thought now that I see it in the daylight. I notice the vast green golf course and even what looks to be a large body of water. Wow, impressive. For a moment, I wonder if Dorian golfs though he looks more biker boy than preppy golfer. After I let valet take my little hatchback, I square my shoulders with confidence and gracefully saunter through the extravagant entranceway.

As I make my way to the building that houses Dorian’s suite, I get a better look at the lake conjoined with a huge pool. It’s gorgeous and I imagine strolling along the little bridge with Dorian. The thought makes my heart flutter with hope and anticipation. I approach the doorman with a broad grin and bound up to the elevator, anxiety and excitement building with the rise of each floor. Soon I am face to face with the elaborate double doors of Dorian’s suite. I take a deep breath and knock three times before exhaling. Here goes. Time to finally get a sense of peace.
And a night of illicit pleasure.

As the door swings open I am met with a pair of familiar blue eyes shrouded in glossy dark hair. A devilish smirk displayed on perfect full lips slowly evolves into a look of shock and disdain. The gorgeous face, evidently not pleased to see me, causes my heart to sink into the plush carpeting, though I plaster on a cold, dismissive guise. Animosity and friction heats the small space between us. This is not the welcome I so wistfully imagined and now I am relieved that I scrapped my trench coat plan. However, the person staring back at me with contempt is not Dorian this time.

It’s Aurora.

“Oh, Gabriella, right?” Aurora recovers, quickly replacing her scowl with a fake smile. “This is a surprise. We weren’t expecting anybody.”

We?
“Really? Dorian invited me,” I say with a twinge of viciousness, bathing every syllable of Dorian’s name with my tongue. 

“Is that right?” she remarks doubtfully. She openly analyzes my appearance with a sweep of her eyes. “Oh well, please come in,” she says holding the door open. I step in, my chin high, ready to get to the bottom of this. “Dorian is in the bedroom. He should be out shortly.” Bedroom?
Oh, hell no!

Aurora and I stand silently looking at each other for several long seconds. Thankfully, before either one of us has to exchange any more false pleasantries, Dorian emerges, his expression initially surprised then contented. He’s wearing a light grey suit and no tie, the top couple buttons of his shirt undone. He looks so handsome and refined in his work attire and it causes my heat below to stir. He strolls over to me without hesitance and places a soft kiss on my forehead before turning to Aurora.

“Here, this should be good,” he says handing her the papers in his hand. 

Aurora’s mouth is hanging wide open with utter disbelief. She grabs the paperwork weakly and tries to shake off her staggered expression. 

“Are you sure this is all? I should go over this with you first because I’d hate for there to be a mistake and have to come back. Again.” What the hell was the point in her adding
‘Again’
? Was she implying that she comes here often? I feel my blood start to boil, and not in a hot and steamy kind of way.

“That’s all, Aurora,” Dorian states dismissively. 

Aurora picks up her broken ego and pulls her shoulders back with a pretentious air. She walks over to the dining table to retrieve her purse and briefcase. Little does she know that just a day ago, my wetness covered that very same table as Dorian greedily consumed me. I try to stifle a laugh at the irony causing Dorian to peer down at me with a smirk. He licks his lips instinctively.
Yes, he must be thinking about it too.

As soon as the door clicks behind a humiliated and fuming Aurora, Dorian shrugs out of his jacket, exposing a crisp white shirt. He then turns to me and pulls me to him by my hips. He places a gentle kiss on my lips, one full of peace and contentment. He’s relaxed dramatically since Aurora’s exit and I chalk it up to their having an uncomfortable past that Dorian doesn’t want me to know about.

“She doesn’t care for me much, does she?” I remark, looking towards the door.

Dorian releases my hips and takes a seat on the couch, patting the seat for me to join him. He extends his arm around me, though it feels the movement is strained for him. It’s as if he’s a 13 year old boy, putting his arm around his young date at the movies. I remain still rather than snuggling against him. It’s odd; he’s been so sure of himself and confident since the day I met him. 

“Aurora doesn’t like most girls that aren’t her,” he says nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

So he knows her well.
How well?
I suppress the urge to ask more about her. It’s not my place to question him; I’m not his girlfriend. Besides, he made it blatantly clear that he preferred my company over hers. 

I give Dorian a playful smile. “So do you always bring your work home with you?”

“That all depends. I brought you home, didn’t I?” He replies with a sly smile.

I feign shock and offense. “First of all, you didn’t bring me home. I came on my own accord. And secondly, I highly doubt sex was a matter of business!”

Dorian pulls his head down towards mine, his lips brushing my earlobe. I gasp at the contact. He begins to leave soft, delicate kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck. 

“Au contraire, Gabriella. That's where you're wrong. It is business. Very hard,"-
kiss
-"back-breaking,"-
kiss
-"labor intensive,"-
kiss
-"business.” 

Before I can even form a response, Dorian hurriedly eases me down on my back, positioning himself between my legs with ease. Our mouths and tongues unite hungrily while I grab ahold of his soft hair. His hands roam my bare thighs as my knee length dress bunches at my hips, exposing my see-through ruffled panties. I can feel the growing bulge in his slacks against the ultrathin fabric. He begins a slow grind, circulating his hardness at a torturous pace. I breathe heavily against his lips, trying to conceal my mounting moans. I lift my hips to meet his stiff middle and the encouragement causes him to speed up the tempo. We are both nearly breathless when his hands move upwards to relinquish me of my panties, breaking us from our impassioned lip-lock. My pelvis is already so elevated that he is able to slide them off easily. Dorian then rapidly unfastens his slacks as I look on in awe. He unleashes his hard length, taking in my fascinated expression. He knows what he’s doing to me. He knows how much he affects me. He’s making a game of this; he wants to toy with me. And I am more than willing to let him.

I expect him to lie back down on top of me, yet Dorian easily flips me over onto my stomach. He scoots me forward, his hands guiding me to take hold of the arm of the couch. He begins to knead my backside, firmly massaging while propping it upward. I brace myself for his entry when I feel his erection lightly slapping the insides of my thighs. Dorian is feeling my wetness, stroking my heat with his long agile fingers. I hear sounds of his smacking lips and know he has sampled me. The eroticism brings on a fresh wave of dampness as I imagine him savoring my nectar. Inside, I’m begging for him to put it in to relieve me of my yearning but he prolongs it, electing to tease me instead. My whimpers grow stronger and with a hard thrust, Dorian puts me out of my misery. I cry out in sweet agony.

Dorian buries himself deep inside of me.
So very deep
. He pulls out inch by inch until I fear he will leave me, but then slams back into me. The pain is so amazingly pleasurable. A series of throaty groans escapes Dorian’s mouth with each thrust, harmonizing with my shrill carnal cries. His fingers dig into my ass with desperation as he plunges himself in and out of my dripping wetness in an unhurried pace. I can’t believe how good this feels. He is filling me up, stretching my walls, losing himself in my secret place. No one has gone here before, not this deep. Yet Dorian is at home inside of me, and I want him to stay forever. 

Just as I feel myself climbing higher, reaching for release, Dorian grabs the base of my neck, pulling me up fiercely. The sweet, tender Dorian is gone and the animal inside him takes the reins. He is still pumping furiously inside me when his mouth finds my shoulder, his hand still tightly gripping my throat.
Oh God
. His sudden change is frightening me and the physical strain is bringing a new element of pain. Yet his aggression arouses me even more, my moans becoming louder, harsh vulgarities spilling from my lips.