“I’m so sorry, Dorian,” I sob heavily. I try to get myself under control but my efforts are futile. “I am such a fucking mess! I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m so sorry!”
“Shhhh. Hush, little girl. It’s ok, baby,” Dorian whispers into my hair. “Let me make you better.”
I lift my tear-stained face to meet his, trying to understand exactly what he means. Dorian nods reassuringly and kisses my forehead chastely. He then cradles my face and his azure irises transform into ice blue, almost clear, as he lets them fuse into my hazel eyes. The familiar tingles begin and soon I feel nothing. I hear nothing. I see nothing. But darkness.
Chapter Twenty Two
It’s pitch-black and I am unsure of where I am. My body is stiff as if I have been lying in the same position for hours. I sit up and try to feel around. The familiar satin comforter indicates that I am in Dorian’s bed. But where is he? And how did I get here?
Light floods the room and I am momentarily blinded. I raise my hands to shield my eyes, letting them adjust. Once they’ve adapted, I see that Dorian is there with a glass of water.
“Sorry,” he says, walking towards me. “I knew you’d be up soon.” He sets the glass of water on the nightstand and sits on the bed next to me.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask groggily. I reach for the glass of water and take a long sip. “And how did I get here?” The last thing I remember is crying outside of the restaurant in the rain and Dorian comforting me. Crap.
“You were exhausted so I brought you here and put you to bed. You slept for a few hours,” He strokes my wild hair and gives me a cautious grin.
“You’re wet,” I say observing Dorian’s damp shirt and slick, dripping hair.
“I went for a walk while you were asleep.”
“In the freezing rain?” I ask skeptically.
Dorian shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me.” He strokes my cheek admiringly and I notice how weary he looks. It appears as if he’s aged while I was sleeping. “Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much at lunch.”
The somber memory causes a dull ache in my chest. “No, I’m fine. Dorian, please don’t tell me you’ve been sitting around here waiting for me to wake up.” I look out through the bedroom’s window, out into the darkness. I’ve slept the entire day away.
Dorian shrugs. “It’s ok. I got some work done. Seeing as I played hooky today. And like I said, I went for a walk.”
It’s hard not to feel responsible for Dorian’s dreary appearance. Just hours before he was so vital, so carefree, even in spite of my less than gracious attitude. And now he sits before me, apprehension etched into his hallow eyes. They still sparkle yet they’ve dulled in intensity. His skin looks pale and ashen.
“Come,” I say, pulling him down into the bed with me. “You look like you could rest. I think walking outside in the rain has made you sick.”
Dorian shakes his head but doesn’t resist when I pull him under the covers and into my arms. He rests his head on my breast, nestling his nose into me and inhaling deeply. Tension rolls off his shoulders when he releases the breath.
“I’ll be ok soon,” he murmurs with closed eyes.
I feel horrible for my outburst. I must’ve wounded Dorian, leaving him to wallow for hours while I slept it off. How could I be so callous when all he gave me was complete honesty? I asked for it. Knowing that I am so transparent is unsettling, but that’s not his fault. He could have abandoned me today, yet he brought me here to care for me. What kind of man would do that after learning that my heart is torn between him and another guy?
“Dorian, I’m so sorry about earlier. You have been so good to me. You didn’t deserve that.” I stroke his cold, damp hair. I wish I could just pour all my warmth into him and heat him from the inside out.
“Are you feeling better?” he mutters into the fabric of my shirt.
“I am. Thank you. I’m more worried about you though,” I say soothingly. My voice comes out in a silky soprano, nothing like my usual raspy tone.
“Don’t be. Being here with you is enough,” Dorian breathes.
“Why do you say that? Why do you think so much of me?”
Dorian lifts his head to meet my questioning gaze. The dark circles around his eyes have begun to fade and his beautiful olive complexion is returning. His crystal blues twinkle brightly.
“Why wouldn’t I? You are unlike anyone, any woman, I have ever met. And sorry to say, I’ve met a lot of women,” he snickers. Good to see his sense of humor has been restored as well. I smile back at him. “No one has ever moved me like you, Gabriella. I’ve never been so affected.”