The Dark Prince (The Dark Light Series)(11)

“So how does that work?” I ask after a beat, deciding that I could possibly be okay with his invasiveness.

Dorian exhales with relief. “I can feel you, every one of your emotions. I’ll know when you’re sad, happy, lonely, afraid, aroused. But not only that, I will experience those emotions as if they are my own. Your pain becomes my pain. Your joy becomes my joy.”

“Wow. That’s not weird at all,” I remark sardonically.

“It’s necessary. I can also use through you if I need to. If you are in trouble, I can channel my power through you. But only in extreme cases. It takes twice as much energy from me.”

Unable to come up with a response, I simply nod. Dorian has thought of everything and I genuinely believe he wants to keep me safe, especially considering what he is up against. But even through all this, even with my acceptance of who and what he is, I still feel confused. Lost. Stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen to unsuspecting, underachieving girls like me. I don’t fit the profile. I’m not mousey, shy, or bookish. I’m not frail and awkward. I like to drink, curse too much, and have handed out my fair share of ass-whoopings. Not to mention, my virtue, or lack thereof, is about as mythical as Dorian himself.

I sigh and give my muddled thoughts in my brain a resigned shake. “So, your father is the king?” I ask, hoping to reignite our earlier conversation.

“Yes.”

“And you’re a prince? The Dark Prince?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why give all that up to save me? To keep my parents’ secret?” I’m trying hard to wrap my head around it but no sane person, immortal or not, would wage war against his own family, who just happens to be the ruling family of the Dark Ones. No big deal.

“I told you. I was becoming everything I was seeking to reject. I was becoming my father. Brash, evil, merciless. All magic has its price. I had to constantly kill just to retain my youth and power. It was becoming all-consuming.”

Yikes. I can’t imagine Dorian killing anyone. “And now? You don’t have to kill to replenish yourself?”

Dorian shrugs. “I have no need to use that much power anymore. The night sustains me enough, though it takes time. And I’m ashamed to admit that I breathe so much of you, I have no need to acquire any other source,” he says sheepishly. That’s comforting, I guess.

“And how do you know if you breathe too much?”

“If I take too much of you, my love, I will kill you. So I am very careful, and I give you me in return. But I worry. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t and you know that’s impossible for me,” he chuckles lightly. “I worry about not being able to resist you. Or how it would affect you in the long run.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are the Dark Light. Half Light and half Dark equally. But I am afraid of you becoming more Dark. I don’t want to eclipse the Light in you. I don’t want to change you.”

I contemplate Dorian’s words. He is right; I’ve worried about being more Dark than Light even before I knew about him. Could this be the fortune teller’s prophecy? She said that the Dark would consume me, yet I would welcome it. Was she killed because of what she saw in me?

“You’re hungry,” Dorian remarks.

“Huh?” I ask quizzically. There was only a faint rumble in my stomach. Even I didn’t really notice. Geez, he must have bionic hearing. Tack that on along with the psycho phantom face and the telepathy.

“Whatever you feel, Gabriella, I feel. So let me feed you,” he smiles.

After Dorian calls down to room service, we lounge on the couch, eating late night junk food like a regular couple on a Friday night. Even with our volatile showdown earlier and the unexpected arrival of Aurora, it’s nice. It still feels right. I can tell that Dorian has made every effort he possibly could not to scare me, even though I internally cringe every time his gaze turns icy or he moves too swiftly. He’s trying though; he’s here. And I’m alive. At this point, that’s all I could really ask for.

“When did you start to understand?” Dorian asks.

“Understand?” Realization hits me before Dorian has a chance to answer. “Oh, the language. I started getting bits and pieces at first. That night in the limo up at Breckenridge. I heard you and Aurora talking. About…killing me.” I give him my hard, unapologetic glare, refusing to let him slither out of this with a vague answer.

“Gabriella, we weren’t discussing killing you. You misunderstood. She was informing me of the Dark’s presence at the club the night before I arrived. She ensured you were safe, watched you. Like I said, there is no separate order for your death, not since I negotiated a deal with my father. However, I don’t trust anyone, and neither should you.”