“Gabriella? Are you ok?” he asks after a moment of my gawking. His eyes rest on my face, no doubt housing a mixture of pain and confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
I take a deep breath, my head swirling with questions. I don’t even know where to start. How do I even formulate all this into words?
“I…know. Who you are, what you are. I know,” a hoarse voice croaks. I can hardly recognize it as my own.
Dorian’s expression darkens instantly, his mouth turning up into a menacing snarl. Even his eyes have turned cold and icy, and I swear I can feel my blood freeze over. He takes a step back, holding the door open wider.
“Come in.”
Come in? I’ve just told Dorian that I know he is an evil, sadistic mythical creature and he wants me to come in? Hell no!
Dorian sighs, letting his eyes close for just a moment before looking to me. They are full of emotion- sorrow, regret, anger. Why?
“It’s ok, Gabriella. I won’t hurt you. I want you to come in.”
And as crazy and stupid as it sounds, I believe him. I have to. The man before me is my heart and soul. Every part of me screams for him, yearns for him. And even if he has lied to me, I can’t deny what I feel for him. I just can’t turn it off. And I seriously hate myself for that.
I square my shoulders and will my shaky legs to carry me forward into the suite. Even as I pass him, even as our bodies meet with the slightest brush of the shoulders, I am on fire for him. Even as fear flows through me in staggering ripples, all I want to do is bury myself in his arms and let him ease my trepidation. Trepidation I feel for him.
How stupid can you get, Gabs?
The reality of Dorian’s real reason for being here nudges me and I am reminded of Chris’s terse words. Dorian doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t want me. He is completely incapable of ever loving me. I need to let those truths fuel what’s left of my courage.
I spin around, my survival instincts kicking in. No matter what I feel for him, he can’t be trusted. All pathetic signs of adoration are erased from my face, replaced with disdain and anger.
“You can relax. I won’t attack you from behind,” Dorian mutters, clicking the door closed. He walks past me and heads to the bar to pour himself a drink, downing it in one hefty gulp. He refills then pours one for me as well.
“You won’t?” I ask flatly, taking the crystal glass from his outstretched hand. I take a sip, my throat not even registering the burn.
“No,” he responds before running his hand through his silken locks. “That’s not how I…operate.”
“But you will. You will hurt me. That is what you were sent here for, correct?” I take another sip, hoping it brings me one step closer to absolute detachment. It hurts too much to feel.
“Yes.” Dorian downs his own poison before looking back at me devoid of all emotion.
“Why?” my quivering voice cracks. “So all this was a lie? I’m just an assignment? A target? You really are some murderous piece of shit? What the fuck, Dorian! Why?!”
I wait for an answer yet Dorian simply continues to stare at me blankly. Doesn’t he want to explain himself? Doesn’t he have anything to say? He just continues to stand there, unreadable and unfeeling. His silence infuriates me and I can’t contain my agitation. Even my fear can’t override my temper.
“Ummm, hello? I’d appreciate an answer, asshole,” I spew angrily. Still, Dorian remains silently impassive, causing wrath to take over. “So it’s true. You really are a cold-hearted prick who preys on defenseless young women. What kind of man are you? That’s sick, Dorian. You are one sick, sadistic fuck.”
Somehow my harsh words pierce through his stoic guise and Dorian’s mouth twists into a vicious snarl, bearing his gleaming white teeth. His eyes narrow menacingly and have lightened into the palest of blues, too frightening to be beautiful. And his face- a face so unbelievably gorgeous that I lose all sense of coherent thought- shifts into a place of pure evil.
He is no longer my Dorian. The man I love is gone.
“You stupid, little girl,” he seethes. Even his voice has lost its velvety tone, becoming more of a guttural growl. I flinch in response, too consumed by fear to run or scream. What good would it do anyway?
Dorian’s head snaps forward faster than my eyes can see. “You think I wanted this? Any of this? You think I wanted to come to this little, miserable town just to hunt some silly girl? Babysit you like a toddler? You are so fucking clueless, it infuriates me! Don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? I. Have. To!”
Dorian’s tirade slices through me like a blade, leaving me open and bleeding. I bring the crystal glass to my lips in an attempt to mask my trembling bottom lip. I can barely taste the scorching liquid as it makes its way down. Then without thinking, without even considering what this could mean for my own preservation, I bring my arm back and push it forward with all my might, slinging the glass directly towards Dorian’s head.