Light Shadows (27 page)

DELIA SKOTOS IS nothing like I expected. Nothing at all.

For one, she’s ridiculously young. Like, she doesn’t look a day over 30. And she seems warm and nurturing. She’s an actual
mother.
Still, I can’t help sense something dark and deceitful hiding in the shadows of her smile. She hugs her sons like she hasn’t breathed since they were last together, taking their cheeks in her hands before kissing each one. She tells them how handsome they look, asks if they’ve been well—even admonishes them for rushing out of here last week without saying goodbye. It’s weird, but good-weird. I always hoped Dorian and Niko had a sense of normalcy in their lives. Delia may have been just that.

“And you must be Gabriella. How lovely to finally meet you, dear. Quite a stir you’ve caused for such a plain little thing,” she says, stopping in front of me. I divert my eyes to the ground, not knowing what proper etiquette suggests when addressing a queen, especially one that relies on sucking souls to maintain her youthful glow. Who needs Botox when you can just
breathe
beauty?

“Well, let’s have a look at you, shall we?” Her majesty takes my face in her hands, tilting my head up to meet her gaze. I know what she’s looking at—my eyes. She’s wondering if I really have chosen to sell one-half of my soul to the Dark. And if and when it comes to war, which side will I pick?

Assuming she’s satisfied with what she sees, the queen slips her hands from my face and grasps my hands. “Always keep your head held high, child. For even the most timid mouse can wreak havoc on a great and mighty house.” And just as my lips part to thank her for her advice, she kisses me. Like,
really
kisses me. Her lips are so soft, warm and—Lord, forgive me—sweet as sugar. It only lasts a few seconds—five tops—but it’s long enough for me to melt into her touch, and spark a craving to taste more. And while she doesn’t allow me to taste her tongue, I feel like I’ve been seduced. Seduced to the point of madness, where I want to be the one to tempt her. I want my kiss to infect her, stain her, make her feel just as out of control with lust.

She pulls away just as quickly as she’s touched me, breaking the erotic spell. The haze begins to lift, and I realize what’s just happened. I was just kissing Dorian’s mom! And I liked it—loved it, even! I wanted more. I wanted her to take me, right here in the parlor, on a table of delicate Macaroons and Earl Grey. What the… How the…

Well, shit. Brings a whole new meaning to the term MILF.

I stagger on my stiletto heels as Delia steps away, returning to her husband’s side. I force myself to face him, shame be damned. This man could very well be responsible for Donna’s death. He could wear the blood of those possessed humans on his hands, yet here he is, grinning at me like the cat that swallowed the canary. The very tip of his pink tongue traces his bottom lip, as his eyes stay trained on me, watching, waiting for me to crack.

As repulsive as I know Stavros is, there’s a part of me that will always be unnervingly intrigued by him. I can’t help it. Maybe it’s the way his haunted eyes seem to pick me apart, bit by bit, until I’m nothing but tendon and bone. Or how his lips just barely twitch, hinting at the slightest of smiles, unknowingly making me yearn for a show of his approval. He is the darkest desire, the sweetest taboo. And no matter what I want, or how much I love his son, the Dark in me craves to venture into murky, unknown territory.

His dominating frame draped in a dark designer suit fills the entire room. Stavros is built like an athlete-turned-model. He has a roguish beauty that speaks of a dangerous past, but he is so graceful and refined, you can’t imagine anything but the finest fabrics gracing his body. The tiny lines in the crease of his eyes tell me that his body has seen much war and destruction, and just at the temples, a slight smattering of grey stands proud amongst silken black hair, only making him appear more distinguished.

Oh, yes. If Delia was a MILF, Stavros was the king of DILFs. And he wore that crown like nobody’s business.

I feel Dorian shift beside me, and red-hot shame paints my entire face, causing me to look down from Stavros’s piercing stare. What is wrong with me? First, I am practically making out with Dorian’s mom, and now I’m damn near eye-fucking his dad? It doesn’t make sense. This isn’t me. Why the hell do I feel so
out of control
?

“Not funny,” Niko grumbles, flopping down on the chair, not even bothering to wait for the king and queen to sit first. “Please don’t tell me you brought her all the way here just so you two could flex your little muscles. I swear, always showing off when company comes over.”

Delia smiles lovingly at her son before taking her husband’s hand and leading him to sit. Dorian and I quickly do the same. “Well, what kind of queen would I be if I didn’t test one of our own, especially one that has completely disarmed your brother of all his sanity. It’s my duty as a mother. Though I must say…she’s so open—dangerously so. Could be troublesome for her in the future.”

“Hopefully, we won’t have to explore just how long that future is,” Stavros adds, contempt dripping from a toothy, too-wide smile. A vampire butler rushes to pour tea into cups. Mouth dry, I lean to retrieve mine, but Dorian stops me with a shake of his head.

“She’s stronger than you think,” he retorts, coming to my aid. Another layer of guilt covers me from head to toe. “She’s pushed you out of her dreams enough times, correct, Father?”

Delia stiffens beside Stavros, yet he just laughs, slapping his knee in jest. “Yes, true enough. But she had help. And trust me, boy, I’m not the only one she dreams of. But you know that already, don’t you?” His eyes sweep over to Niko, and he winks, earning him a confused look. “But your brother doesn’t seem to be in the know. Shall we enlighten him, son?”

I feel the blood drain from my face as a malicious grin begins to curve the corner of Stavros’s mouth. Niko looks at me, then Dorian, and then back to his father with narrowed suspicion. “Maybe some other time,” he deadpans. “I’d rather you tell me why the hell we’re here, for starters. Then let’s talk about what you’ve done with Cyrus.”

Stavros dips his head to one side, feigning ignorance. “Wouldn’t it be fair of me to expect an explanation? You and your brother run out of here on the most anticipated event in decades, and you want to know why I requested your presence? Surely you are not that daft.” His gaze finds mine again, and he smirks. “Or maybe you are.”

“Aurora was not fit to be my wife, nor to be queen one day. It was a mistake,” Dorian says, ignoring Stavros’s jibe.

“I’m inclined to agree,” his mother nods, sipping tea from a colorful, porcelain teacup.

Stavros dips his head from side to side, weighing Delia’s assessment. “Maybe so. But as a prince, and the future heir of this kingdom, it is bad form to renege on your promises. Have you no dignity, son? No concern for the consequences of your decisions?”

Dorian huffs out an aggravated breath. “Of course I do, father, but—”

“Then why make a sacred pledge only to sully it with deceit? You of all people should know what that would have done for this house. And now…now you’ve left a pretty girl to drown in her sorrow, because her groom-to-be enjoys the taste of hybrid pussy. I can’t say I blame you, but duty and honor must take precedence over our carnal desires. And it’s not like you are expected to lay only with your wife. One would not begrudge you for keeping little Gabriella as your concubine.”

“She’s not a concubine,” Dorian spits. His voice is still cool and calm, but there’s malice in every word that falls from his lips. “She is mine. I am hers. And no one will change that.”

“Sure about that?” Stavros tips his head, motioning to the faded mark on my hand. “Maybe you are not strong enough to keep her. There are some animals that cannot be caged.”

“Enough,” Delia commands. “Let us get on with it, my king.”

“Yes, yes,” Stavros nods. He snaps his fingers, and the door to the vast room creaks open.

I knew the very moment I heard the sultry rhythm of those designer pumps. Every step sounded like she was imagining my body embedded in the foundation, and she was jabbing and piercing my flesh with those spiked heels. I cringed, because while I knew I’d have to face her eventually, I was hoping it would be on my terms. On my territory, where I hadn’t just been verbally cut down to a home-wrecking whore and compared to vermin over dainty, crème-filled cookies.

“Hello, hubby,” Aurora chimes, lowering her svelte frame into the seat across from us. She crosses her long, shapely legs and flips her cascading, black waves. For someone who was just left at the altar days ago, she sure looks amazing. Where the hell are the puffy eyes? The acne from eating chocolate until she barfed? And that tight, curve-hugging dress looks nothing like sweats and a holey tee.

“What are you doing here?” Dorian nearly growls, his icy glare focused on his former fiancé.

“Well, this was supposed to be my home. But you and your little tart here tried to screw all that up. Luckily, I had some insurance.”

“Oh?” Dorian asks condescendingly. “And what insurance might that be, pray tell?”

Aurora smiles so sickeningly sweet that a wave of nausea attacks my stomach. I crouch over, holding my abdomen, gasping for every ragged breath.

“What did you do?” Dorian barks, grasping my shoulders before I topple over. I’m losing consciousness, struggling to remain in the here and now before I black out. His voice sounds farther and farther away as he demands answers between asking me if I’m ok.

“It’s not what I’ve done to her. But them,” I hear her answer in that shrill, sing-song voice. I force myself to look up, refusing to give her any power over my body. And once my hazy eyes fall over them, I completely straighten, shock and adrenaline replacing all traces of illness.

“I’m sure you’ve met a few of my friends already. Pity how it worked out, although fully expected. I knew you’d catch on, Dorian. And instead of telling you, I merely chose to show you. Aren’t they wonderful?”

“What have you done, Aurora?” he spits, as if his mouth is filled with bile.

“What I had to,” she smiles. “What you should have been doing all along. I gave your father what he wanted—something that could benefit our kind and rid us of atrocities such as
her.
We needed an army. I created one.”

“Not so fast,” Stavros chuckles, finding great joy in the three possessed humans standing before us, staring at me through zombie-like eyes.
It’s true.
It’s all true. But this wasn’t Stavros’s doing. It was Aurora’s. She had been playing Dorian all along!

“You,” I hiss, throat tight with overwhelming anger. “You killed Donna.”

The evil, soul-sucking bitch has the nerve to shrug. Shrug! Like it’s no big deal! Like killing my mother was the equivalent of squashing an ant.

I always knew I would kill the person responsible for Donna’s murder. I just didn’t know I’d take so much pleasure in doing so.

Just as vengeful heat snakes up my hands and wrists, I feel Dorian’s tight grasp on my thigh and hear his voice shouting in my head.

Not now! Not now, Gabriella! You will get your revenge, I promise you. But, this is not the time. Not if we want to save Cyrus.

My breath comes out in short pants as I teeter at the crossroads of slaughtering Aurora once and for all and trusting Dorian enough to wait. My eyes go to her pleased, blood-red pout, then to Stavros, who looks just as proud. I hate them. I hate them both. And I vow on everything that I love that I will kill them. It may not be today, but I will not rest until I drain every last drop of life from their pathetic souls.

“Aurora may have taken the initiative and given us the idea,” Stavros says, nodding towards the humans—two girls, one boy—none of which look a day over eighteen, “but we hope to expand this plan globally. Isn’t it funny? All this time I longed for a son—an heir that would one day take my place and lead our people with immeasurable power. And all I truly needed was a daughter.”

Aurora beams brightly at his words, causing Delia to roll her eyes and huff out an aggravated breath.

“Yes. A daughter you like to fuck,” Niko mumbles, plucking up a finger sandwich. “I still don’t see how this has anything to do with Cyrus. Where is he?”

“The vampire is alive,” Stavros says with a wave of his hand. “However, I can’t say for how long. Consider him…motivation.”

“Motivation?”

Stavros nods. “As it stands, we only have the eight true Dark powers involved, and the process is draining to our abilities. However, there is one that could be beneficial to the cause. One that is said to be even more powerful than even I,” he snorts. He turns to me, his eyes wild with excitement. “Killing Cyrus would hurt my sons. And hurting my sons would hurt you. You are ruled by your love for them, not for your love of humanity. Isn’t that right?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sneer. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh?” Stavros replies, a devilish smirk on his lips. He turns to the human kids and inclines a single finger, pulling the first human girl forward by invisible strings. “Then save her.”

“What? What do you mean—”

The first crack of bone is nearly enough to make me sick. That, accompanied by the girls blood-curdling screams as she went down, clutching her now L-shaped leg, would fuel a lifetime of nightmares. She is possessed, but she feels unspeakable pain. It was so great and so deep that I could feel a phantom ache in my own leg.

“Save her, Gabriella,” Stavros says before raising a finger again, sending the girl into another fit of screams. She clutches her arm at the elbow as blood spurts out of a deep gash from the protruding humerus bone. “Come on! Be her savior! Show us what you’re made of!”

“I-I…can’t…I…” I lift my hands to stop her pain, but they’re cold. I feel…nothing. No power surges through me, licking up my arms with prickling fire. There is no crackling ice touching my eyes, kissing them into bone-chilling magic. It’s gone. This girl is in agony right in front of me, and I’m too chicken-shit to do anything to stop it.

“Gabriella,” Dorian whispers beside me, the horror in his face urging me to do something. Or maybe what he’s telling me is to do nothing at all.