Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)(116)

What. The. Fuck.

Dorian knows about me. Worst of all, he’s teamed up with Aurora, and it sounds as if they’re planning my demise. How did this happen? Just over an hour ago, Dorian made tender, passionate love to me. He’s been so attentive and generous, not at all like someone who wishes me dead. Why would he? What would he have to gain from my death? I must have heard wrong. Obviously, I do not understand whatever language they were murmuring. I am mistaken. Maybe a little bit drunk from the champagne. And even if I think I heard correctly, I could just ask him. He told me he would always be forthcoming. But am I ready for that dose of honesty? And if they find out that I do, in fact, understand their secret language, could that put me in even more danger?

What am I thinking? This is Dorian. In all the compromising positions he’s had me in, if he wanted me dead, I’d be dead. All those times he’s had me bent over, naked, his hand clutching my neck, pulling my hair… He could have easily ended me then when I was exposed and vulnerable. Why put it off? I am defenseless and he has already proven to be a much more powerful force than me. Dorian wouldn’t do that. He cares about me; he told me that no one is as important to him than me. He said he didn't want anyone else. I have to believe that’s true. I need to believe it.

“You ok, Gabs?” Morgan eyes me suspiciously. She refills the empty flute in my shaking hand.

I plaster on a strained smile. “Yeah, just thinking I should have eaten more at lunch. Feeling a little lightheaded. Probably just from the motion of the limo.”

“Mmm hmm, that or the motion of that bed Dorian had rockin’!” she giggles. I give her a sharp look. “Oh, relax. No one heard. But I’m sure we could all imagine. Ooooh, look at that ice on your neck! Don’t tell me, another gift from Dorian?” she squeals, taking the intricate pendent in her palm. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Yes, it is. Thanks,” I say quietly.

Morgan looks back at Dorian, who is gazing out the dark tinted window thoughtfully. “Hey Dorian, you don’t have any brothers, do you?” Morgan says with a sly wink. Miguel’s eyes flash with jealousy.

“Actually I do. Not sure he’d be your type though,” he replies.

Morgan smiles slyly, “Honey, hot, rich and sexy is always my type. And if he’s anything like you, we’ll get along just fine.”

I honestly think Miguel’s head will explode if she keeps this up. She’s toying with him, trying to see what he’s made of. Morgan is a master manipulator of men, and her fun with Miguel is a welcomed distraction from my dilemma.

Dorian notices the heated glances between Miguel and Morgan and doesn’t take the bait. Instead he fixes his intense gaze on me. Under his stare, the feelings of doubt and betrayal from minutes ago begin to abandon me. I almost can’t remember what instilled my confusion. I grab two glasses of champagne and carefully make my way to him, desperately trying to salvage the evening and my jovial mood.

I take a sip of champagne from one glass and then hand it to him with a sultry smile. He looks at me musingly with a raised eyebrow and receives it, taking a sip of his own where my lipgloss has left a shimmery print. I’m doing my best to remain cool and guarded, as he calls me, in an attempt to keep him out of my head. How did I get myself into this? How did I get involved with a man so extraordinarily intuitive to my thoughts and feelings? But considering what I am, is there really any other choice?

“Something on your mind, baby?” Dorian murmurs to me silkily. His voice is like melted hot caramel; it simply oozes off the tongue.

“Just…thoughtful. Glad you’re here. Happy,” I say meekly.

And I mean it. Dorian has made this shell of what I thought was life worth living. Losing him would mean returning to mediocrity, always yearning for something more. I can’t go back to that. Ever.

Dorian gives me a sexy half-smile. “That’s all I want- to make you happy. Always.” He twists his finger around one of my coiled tendrils.

“Do you mean that? Do you honestly want to be here with me for no other reason?” I ask him with pleading eyes. They are willing him to tell me the truth.

He furrows his brow and cocks his head to one side quizzically. “Yes. I mean that. I want to be here because I have feelings for you. Deep feelings. Feelings that scare me yet excite me. Feelings that I have tried to avoid for many, many years. Feelings I thought I'd never have the ability to feel.”

Dorian’s explanation floors me, and I know without a shadow of doubt that he is here for me. I have no reason to distrust him; he’s shown me nothing but gentleness and generosity. I can’t be sure of what I heard, but I do know that Dorian cares for me. He’s shown me in more ways than one. I’d be a fool to discount his actions and ignore what’s in my heart, right?