The Dark Prince (The Dark Light Series)(33)

“Anything I can do to help?” I ask.

“So now you want to help?” she laughs lightly. “I should’ve taught you how to cook. I’m afraid you’ll starve once you leave. But your father was more concerned about you knowing how to defend yourself. Rightfully so.”

I take a seat at the breakfast table and grab one of the freshly baked cookies cooling on a wire rack. I haven’t eaten much all day and with all the activity, I’m famished.

“So you knew something like this might happen? You knew someone might come for me?”

“It was certainly a possibility, dear,” she sighs. “Plus you already had the hunter gene in you. It was only natural you’d be more physical than domestic.”

I finish chewing the remains of my cookie, nodding slowly. “Was my mother, Natalia, was she like me? Not so domestic?”

Donna smiles as she recalls the memory. “She was more like you than me, yet she was nurturing. She was warm. She was a lover and a fighter.”

“Will I be a hunter? Like a Dark Hunter?” That is, if I choose to ascend as a Light Enchanter.

“I don’t know, honey. I wish I did. The Light and the Dark are very secretive about their way of life. Unless you are one, they are simply myth. Many myths that we, mortals, read about in history books.”

Now I’m intrigued. “Like what?”

“Mythology. Legends of gods and goddesses that had the power to control the elements, the actions and emotions of mortals. Things of that nature.”

“So all that stuff was true?” Holy shit! Could Dorian really be a Greek god? I certainly wouldn’t be surprised.

“No, not necessarily. Supposedly they were more like bedtime stories than anything else. You should ask Dorian. I’m sure he’s pretty well versed in his kind’s history.”

“Yeah, probably.” I smile warmly at my mother, realizing that it is time to go. I’m not ready to say goodbye though I know I’m simply fifteen minutes away. “You know, I really appreciate all that you and Dad did for me. And you’ll always be my parents in my heart.”

Donna’s eyes cloud with a fresh wave of tears. “I know, honey. And you’ll always be our baby girl. No matter what happens from here. We know you’ll make us proud. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will, Mom. And I’ll be fine.”

We embrace and after reassuring Donna that I’ll come over for dinner as often as possible, I head outside to find Dorian leaning up against his Mercedes. Of course the boxes were probably loaded with a snap of his fingers. I’ll never get used to how ridiculously alluring and fascinating he is.

“All packed up? You don’t look like you even broke a sweat,” I jibe.

“Maybe because I didn’t,” he smirks seductively.

He opens the passenger side door for me and I slide in. But before I can even get both legs inside and close the door behind me, he’s in the driver’s seat, the remnants of grey smoke swirling around him.

We cruise out of Briargate and head towards my new home. Morgan had planned to move in throughout the weekend as well but with the news of Jared and James’s mom, her parents talked her into staying home for another night. I don’t blame them; Tammy’s sudden affliction is more than a little disturbing. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Pierre had a hunch about what happened to her.

“What are you thinking about?” Dorian asks after flashing his identification at the Paralia guard shack.

I shake my head. “Just trying to wrap my head around all this. This crap is seriously pissing me off.”

He gives me a slant of his eyes. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. Whoever this is…whatever it is…he’s completely eluding us. I was wrong before. This isn’t someone who is just striking blindly. We’re dealing with a professional.”

“The Shadow?” I ask with wide eyes.

“Possibly. Or a hunter. There are more out there than just Dark Hunters,” Dorian replies, whipping into my assigned parking space.

“Like what?” Do I really want to know?

“Another time,” he replies, shutting down my curiosity. “I need to feed you.” Dorian takes in my playfully offended expression. “Food, Gabriella. I need to feed you some food. For now.”

I follow Dorian into the apartment, kicking off my shoes and settling onto one of the stools stationed at the marble-top breakfast bar. Dorian busies himself in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and cabinets and removing packages of food and dishes. Of course the kitchen is stocked with food, though neither Morgan nor I are great in the cooking department. Dorian, however, seems comfortable and confident behind the stove.