Below the sconce, lies a modern, simple yet stylish bed. It is very Dorian, with its sleek black comforter, crisp white sheets and alternating blue and black pillows. Simple nightstands sit on either side of the bed, matching perfectly with the giant dresser and armoire stationed against the blue walls. Framed black and white prints of famous musicians and artists also adorn the walls. Nestled in one of the corners lies a plush black chaise lounge littered with blue pillows, coupled with what looks to be some kind of sound system. It is extremely streamlined and a far cry from my rinky-dink iPod dock. The speakers are tiny yet I am sure they pump out enough sound to vibrate a concert hall. It’s all so overwhelming and more than I could ever imagine.
“Dorian! Oh my God! When did you do this?” I exclaim, crushing my body to his with excitement.
“While you were sleeping,” he smiles slyly.
My eyes narrow slightly. “You left me?”
Dorian flashes me a knowing crooked grin. “No.”
My face alights with awe. “It’s amazing. Thank you.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I’ll never get used to how well you know me. Better than I know myself sometimes, I think.”
“You really think so?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I know so. Look at this place,” I say, gesturing around the room. “I could have never come up with something like this. And the truth is I don’t know myself. I don’t really know my likes and dislikes. I don’t have any real hobbies. I only know what I was spelled to know. That’s not a life; that’s a mirage. Meeting you, being with you, has given me something real. It’s made me realize who I was truly meant to be.”
Dorian looks down at me lovingly and I think he’s about to tell me that he’s known who I was all along, that he’s loved me for who I was. Instead he scoops me up into his arms and swings me around, causing me to squeal. We end up on the bed, both laughing as if nothing else in the world matters. And in this moment, nothing else does matter. It’s just me and him. Forever.
“I’m pretty sure you know what you like,” he notes, hovering over me. He props himself up on one elbow. “See. You like this, right?” And with that, Dorian rubs his thumb over the fabric covering my left nipple.
“Mmmm, yes, I do,” I breathe, closing my eyes.
Dorian then moves to the right breast, fingering the area ever so gently. “And this?”
“I like that too. So much,” I murmur.
I feel Dorian’s hands drift under my shirt, his fingers skimming my bare stomach. His touch sends little shockwaves to every nerve ending and a reflexive moan escapes my lips. In the next moment, I feel the wetness of his warm tongue at my belly button.
“Oh God, Dorian. That feels so good,” I say with a strained voice. My hands travel down to take a handful of his hair. Suddenly, Dorian’s head snaps up, his eyes flickering white hot. “What’s wrong?” I ask with alarm. I sit up and look around me furiously.
“Fuck!” he shouts, his eyes ablaze with anger. He’s on his feet, though my human eyes don’t detect the movement. I notice the air around him quivering.
“What? What is it?” Oh crap, what did I do?
“It’s Aurora. Something has happened. We have to go,” he explains, pulling me to my feet.
He tugs me out of the apartment, ignoring my questions as to what could be wrong. Once we’re in the car, his fists pummel the steering wheel, shaking the entire car, before looking at me with regretful eyes. Oh shit. It’s bad.
Against my better judgment, I reach a shaky hand towards him, resting it on his forearm. “What is it? Please talk to me.”
“I am so sorry, Gabriella. We have to go to the hospital.”
“Why, Dorian? What is going on?” I plead.
Dorian shakes his head, revving up the car and whipping out of the parking lot at dangerous speed. He still refuses to talk to me, though I know he can feel my questioning eyes burn a hole in the side of his head.
I blow out an agitated breath. “Damn it, Dorian! Tell me!”
Again, Dorian ignores my pleas, causing me to shout expletives and demand he talk to me right this instant. My heart is racing and every alarm bell in my head sounds simultaneously. What could have happened to make his mood shift so drastically?
Dorian races towards Memorial Hospital, turning every approaching streetlight green. He’s concentrating, baring his teeth like a vicious animal. I know he must be still in deep conversation with Aurora, and it kills me that it’s not me he’s talking to. Though he refuses to make eye contact with me, I can see his eyes are gleaming with intense rage. I quiet my tirade for answers and try to focus my breathing, feeling the familiar trembling of my hands. I’m about to lose it, and if Dorian doesn’t tell me what’s going on, he may be in the line of fire.