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Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)(41)

By:S.L. Jennings


“Wow, I think the air is really thin today. And then the wine...I’m probably just a little dizzy,” I explain, solemnly, hanging my head in embarrassment. Why the hell did I have to ruin this moment?

Dorian lifts my chin to meet his eyes with a single finger, causing me to forget my momentary misstep and I lose myself in his hypnotizing stare. It instantly warms me from the inside out and I’m at ease. All is forgotten and forgiven in his deep pools of gleaming azure. He grabs my hand again, intertwining our fingers like old lovers, and we set back off on our walk. But I can tell he’s a bit more rigid, more guarded, because of my strange conduct and I painfully receive my answer.

No. I absolutely cannot have a normal relationship.

“I have to get you home,” Dorian mumbles as we stroll back towards the blanket. I want to ask him why but I am too embarrassed to question him. Though my body often gives me away, I am careful not to seem too eager. I give him a quizzical look. He continues, “I have an engagement this evening. Hence the reason we are not back at my hotel room right now.” He gives me a wicked wink.

Dorian knows I want him badly and I know I should be more modest about it but what’s the use? We are both adults and I honestly can’t say if I’ll make it from one day to the next. Live in the moment, I think to myself. And even if I wanted to resist my innate attraction to him, could I? Whenever he is near, whenever he touches me, all apprehension and doubt simply melts away. It’s like Dorian is purposely keeping me out of my own head, making it so I can’t question my body’s craving for him. But why? And most importantly, how?

“I want you to hear this,” Dorian says as we ride back towards Woodmen Commons where my car is parked. He presses an unseen button and a drum beat interludes the sounds of electric guitar and a soft, mellow male voice. The music gradually grows, becoming hauntingly beautiful, enchanting even. I listen to the words; listen to the man’s melodic struggle. Empathy washes over me. It’s a tortured plea of honesty, lust, pain and deceit.

“Who is this?” I ask turning to face Dorian.

“The Foreign Exchange. The song is called ‘Authenticity.’ Do you like it?” He turns his head to gauge my reaction.

“I do. Very much.”

There’s a message in the evocative melody- something that Dorian is trying to convey to me. He’s on the cusp of disclosure, still teetering between admission and obscurity. Though I feel his mystery contributes to the allure, I can’t help but wonder what it is Dorian is hiding from me. And do I truly have a right to press him further? Everything is still so new, yet even if it weren’t, I would never, ever tell him who I really am. What I really am. I could never fit the mold of a vibrant, carefree young woman. I could never truly give him all of me. And for that simple fact, I cannot demand all of him, no matter what my heart aches for.





Chapter Ten


“So an engagement, huh? Business, pleasure, or both?” I jibe, though the honest part of me is genuinely curious. We sit in his car in the Jamba Juice parking lot, neither of us ready to say goodbye just yet.

“Oh, definitely business. The only pleasure I’m interested in is yours,” he smirks. I blush instantly though I’m a bit skeptical. It’s Friday evening; what kind of business would he need to tend to? Dinner with a client? He did say he was looking to change careers.

“Well, sorry to disappoint you but I have plans as well.” There. Let him try that on for size.

Dorian responds with a raised eyebrow and a sexy smirk. “Oh, do you? Business, pleasure, or both?”

“Ummm, pleasure. Definitely pleasure,” I quip.

Dorian moves in to quickly close the space between us. His eyes are dancing with fury and passion. He looks pissed. Really pissed. I begin to recoil when he grabs the back of my head feverishly, harshly gripping my tresses and plants his lips on mine with such intensity it frightens me. My first instinct is to fight him and I forcefully shove my fisted palms against his hard chest. But as he pries open my mouth with his tongue and it begins to massage mine, sucking me hard into his mouth, I relax and accept his brutal tongue lashing. I’ve been naughty and I want to be punished. Just as I begin to reciprocate and my hands find his face, he pulls back hastily, leaving me breathless and wanting more. So. Much. More.

“Well, I do hope you’ll think of me when you are engaged in your pleasure.” He flashes a devilish grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me! Cocky ass.

I try to escape the car with what’s left of my dignity and bid him goodnight. Dorian waits until I’m safely in my vehicle before speeding off hastily. The temperature has dropped dramatically so I shrug into my worn leather jacket and flip on the heat. My body heat mixed with my labored breathing causes the windows to obscure with fog, and I hit the defrost button. But before it has the chance to clear the condensation, I notice that someone has taken their finger and written something on my windshield. Surly, just some punk kids playing around; it probably says ‘Wash me,’ which would be an appropriate request. But at a second glance, I realize that this is no juvenile prank and the message is meant specifically for me.