Light Shadows (34 page)

“Alex,” he finally says after more than a minute ticks by, as if he’s just remembered what he came for. “He’s starting to heal. Morgan is caring for him. He’ll be fully restored within the next day.”

“Good,” I sigh with relief. I didn’t really realize how much I wanted Alexander in my life until I almost lost him. Secrets aside, I really do think he loves me. He’s still a bit awkward with me, and warmth and affection are not his strong suits, but I can tell he cares for me. He just doesn’t know how to show it. It’s not in his nature.

Niko takes a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. I already know something is up. “Gabs, I need to know you’re with me. I need to know I can rely on you.”

I slide into a sitting position, wrapping my arms around my knees. “What do you mean?”

Niko scoots onto the bed, crossing his legs at the ankles. He leans back onto a mound of pillows, and I realize that I haven’t seen him stop or slow down in days. Shit, maybe a week. Fortunately, he’s still sustained by my magic, but the guy has got to be exhausted.

“I need to know that you’re down to do this. I’m willing to go on this asinine quest for a Light Enchanter, and I need to know that you’re willing too.”

I snort and shake my head, not out of disagreement, but out of disbelief. “You know, I had this picture of Dorian when he was younger…this beautiful badass that just couldn’t be tamed. I knew he had done terrible things, and I knew he dated Aurora, but this…I never expected him to be cruel. What happened to him? How could he have changed so drastically?”

Niko gives me that mischievous smirk before folding his hands behind his head. “Cyrus. Cyrus changed him. It was a freak accident—us being entitled little pricks and stirring up trouble. We thought we were invincible, yet Cyrus…he was always the more level-headed of the group. When it happened, it crushed us both. Dorian couldn’t deal—he couldn’t let him go, so he turned him. He sired Cyrus because he loved him. So it was always in him, Gabs. He just didn’t know it yet. And realizing that he could lose what he held dear, it changed him.”

“Dorian turned Cyrus?”

Niko nods. “Yeah. He did what I honestly didn’t have the guts to do. It was difficult and scary as hell, but he managed to pull it off. Cyrus wasn’t thrilled about it once the transformation was made, but he never begrudged Dorian for doing it. If it were one of us, he probably would have done the same thing.”

Dorian was capable of love. Real love. Not a spell or a link or a prophecy. Dorian changed out of love for his family.

I smile, renewed by a flutter of newfound hope. It’s small and faint, but it’s there. It’s enough to make me believe that
my
Dorian is still salvageable.

I take a cleansing breath, letting go of despair and taking in courage. “Ok. What’s the next step?”

“Well, my little Dark Light,” Niko answers, playfully wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me to him. “Pack a bag. We’ve got a concert to attend.”

WHEN NIKO TOLD me we were going to a concert to follow a tip, he didn’t mention it was clear across the damn country in Seattle.

Luckily, his private jet was gassed up and waiting for us on the tarmac when we arrived at the airport. Morgan was staying behind to care for Alex, who had refused to let me heal him. He wanted me to preserve my energy, especially after what went down with Niko.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmurs as we descend into Sea-Tac. I shrug.

“I guess so. I mean it’s green and all, but kinda gloomy and wet.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?” Niko replies, eyes lit up like twinkle lights.

Of course, there’s a limo waiting for us when we disembark. And of course, it is entirely too big and posh for just the two of us.

“So what’s this concert we’re going to?” I ask once the car begins to move. Niko sits across from me, pouring a couple glasses of whiskey. He hands me mine, then leans back, cracking his neck on both sides.

“Ever heard of the band The Fallen?”

I give him my best
Bitch, please
face and roll my eyes. “Um. Yeah. Hasn’t everybody?” Not only is the band ridiculously talented and cutting edge, but the lead singer had starred in quite a few wet dreams. Before the Dorian era, of course.

“Well, they’re playing tonight, and you and I are going.” He brings his glass to his lips, yet flashes me wink before taking a sip.

“And we’re somehow supposed to find a lead there?”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Mighty long way you’ve brought us for just a hunch,” I mumble, taking a gulp of the warm, burning liquid.

“Got any better ideas?” he retorts with raised brows.

I ignore him, turning to look out the window as we make our way downtown. Seattle really is beautiful, and while the natural benefits may be somewhat lost on me, I can totally see the appeal. The water, the trees, the almost constant downpour…it’s a Dark One’s dream. Maybe there is something mystical in this city that’ll lead us to the Light.

We pull up to the grand Pacifica resort hotel, and Niko hurriedly whisks me through the entrance, not stopping for niceties as a bellman takes our bags. I don’t even get a chance to check out the lavish digs, which seems to be boasting a Far East vibe with its rich tapestries and gold statues.

“That was rude,” I chastise, as he hurriedly leads me to the elevator and punches in a code.

“Dorian’s hotel,” he grumbles. “He hasn’t tended to his properties since you came along, but there’s always a possibility of someone keeping an eye on its patrons.”

I take a step back, hitting the wall of the elevator. “Wait. Properties? What else does he own?”

“Aside from this one, and The Broadmoor? Probably about every luxury hotel in every major city worldwide. It’s his thing—creating homes away from home.”

Dorian
owns
The Broadmoor? Why am I not even surprised?

I roll my eyes and wait as the elevator slows to our desired floor. “No penthouse?” I jibe, stepping into the hallway. Niko fishes out two card keys from his pocket that he never even stopped to retrieve from the front desk.

“Too conspicuous. Besides, Dorian likes to keep the premium suites for paying customers. You know that. Always the businessman.”

He slides a key card into a slot, clicking open the door labeled 1604, before entering, keeping me at his back. The room is spectacular, with a gorgeous view of the pier and Pikes Place Market. However, Niko hurriedly closes the heavy, dark curtains, then goes to check out the bathroom.

“All clear,” he sighs, running a hand through his mane. The movement causes his t-shirt to ride up, exposing a small smattering of black hair against hard abdominal muscles, drifting down into Armani boxer briefs. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and throws it on the king-sized bed.

“Um…so where are you sleeping?” I ask, a heady mix of anxiety and excitement infiltrating my bloodstream. It’s ridiculous, really. Niko and I have shared a bed before without issue.

“What? No sleepover?” He flops onto the bed, reclining back onto his elbows. From this angle, with him only wearing jeans and a tee, I can see every single flex of hard muscles. His body is lean with not an ounce of body fat on him, but there’s something about him that just makes you want to snuggle into his side and lay your head in the nook of his arm and chest. There’s not a damn thing that’s soft about Niko, but he exudes warmth and gentleness. Even with his appeal to cold elements.

“Absolutely not,” I reply, quickly turning away to hide the blush climbing up my cheeks. Yeah. Nikolai Skotos can be a teddy bear when he wants to, but I know he’s
all male.
Every last enticing inch of him.

He glides to his feet so fast that I don’t even detect the movement from the bed to the space right in front of me. A slow smile creeps onto his face. “Don’t worry, love. I’m next door.”

My voice is just a weak squeak when I answer, our faces, our bodies, our lips, too close to speak any louder. “I’m not worried.”
Yes, I am. I totally am.

“Good.” To my relief, he takes a step back, letting the air filter back into this space that had become too intimate…too soon.

“I’ll be in the adjoining room,” he reiterates, making his way toward the door. And now, I can breathe again. “Just holler if you need me.”

“Ok. I will.”
I won’t.

“Oh. And I hope you don’t mind, but I had something special brought in for you for the concert tonight. I hope you like it.” Then he’s out the door, leaving me to wonder what the hell he means by “something special.”

As I open the closet door, I realize that
something special
means
something slutty.

Dangling from a hanger is a flimsy, little black number that is too short to even cover my ass. Hanging beside it are fishnet stockings (ew) and a leather jacket (score!). At least he’s considerate enough to ensure that I don’t completely freeze my ass off. Below the garments—if you could even call them that—are black-heeled booties with silver chains draped across them. I have to admit—they’re crazy cute. Under normal circumstances, I’d totally rock them—with a few extra layers of clothing, of course.

After a day of traveling, all I can think about is a nice, hot shower. I strip out of my jeans and tee, kicking them across the room, and letting them fall where they may. Then it hits me—no one will pick them up. No one will silently admonish me for leaving all my hair products and makeup strewn all over the bathroom vanity. And when my sheets and blankets are thrown onto the floor in a fitful sleep, there’s no one here to pick them up and tuck them over my body.

Have I really been this blind? To think that I could just pick up and move on, when Dorian invaded—no consumed—every single aspect of my life?

I’m lost without him. Utterly forsaken into oblivion. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to get up every day and not think of him. I can’t sleep without dreaming of his face. I can’t smile unless he’s the one that caused it.

This is unhealthy—I get it. Normal people experience infatuation, maybe even love if they’re lucky. Like Morgan said, this isn’t love—it’s insanity of the heart. This is a sickness. A disease.

Since the day we met, I’ve been living in constant danger, my very existence overshadowed by the mad passion I felt whenever he touched me or gave me just second of his attention. I craved his affection like I craved sustenance. And when he went away, sacrificing himself to save my life, I was starving—my heart and soul emaciated.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe this is the only way I can kick him cold turkey. Because as I stand here, naked and shivering like an addict going through withdrawal, I know that I won’t be the one to walk away completely. There’s no way in hell.
He
has to leave me.
He
has to stop wanting me.

And that’s exactly what he’s done.

Faith, little one
, a voice whispers in my head.
“For truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you.” Faith, child. Faith is your greatest power.

“But how can I save him,” I whisper, “when he doesn’t want to be saved?” I know that the voice will not answer. Tears roll down my face, and I quickly dash them away. Not today. Not now.

I stand in silence with only the echo of my pounding heart to keep me company. That’s a good sign. As broken as it is—as utterly shattered as I am—I’m still alive. Against all odds, I’m still alive, dammit.

I drag myself to the shower, determined to scrub away the dark haze of sorrow that covers me from head to toe. It’s not over yet. We can still save him. And if he still decides that he doesn’t love me—if he chooses the familiarity that Aurora provides—I’ll be ok. I can walk away, knowing I did all I could to save him because it was the right thing to do. After all, he never once gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself.

Just as I step out of the shower, there’s a knock at the door. I freeze, not knowing what the hell to do. Niko didn’t mention guests, and if it’s a human—if it’s one of Aurora’s drones—then we have much bigger problems on our hands.

I slip the white, fluffy robe off the back of the bathroom door and wrap it around my still-wet body. Taking a deep breath, I taste the atmosphere, trying to sense anything out of the ordinary. Dizziness doesn’t overcome me, and I don’t feel sick. Instead, I pick up on…beef. And salty, fried potatoes. And, Oh Em Geeee, creamy, frozen chocolate.

I race out of the bathroom and whip open the door, nearly taking it off the hinges. In front of me is a cart, covered with silver, dome-topped plates and a note.

Baby girl,

Figured you were starving. This food is safe.

-N

I swear, I could kiss Niko right now. I pull the cart inside my room and flip off the silver domes with a flick of my finger. A massive-sized burger—no mayo or tomatoes, just the way I like it—nearly takes up an entire plate on its own. There’s also a dish of crispy, golden fries and a chocolate milkshake in one of those old-fashioned, tall glasses, topped off with a cherry. Such a simple, sweet gesture, but it’s enough to bring a tiny tear to my eye before overwhelming hunger takes the reins and I’m digging in enthusiastically.