Dorian lets his hands dance in my hair, massaging my scalp gently. “But you want him,” he states somberly.
“What? Hell no! Absolutely not!” How can he even say that? I only want Dorian, and I always will. For me to desire his dad is just downright…gross.
“You do,” he states simply. “He couldn’t have planted the dream if you didn’t. Even if you opened yourself to him for just a second, that is all he needs. Then he has access to the deepest depths of your subconscious.”
If there was ever a time where I wanted to press rewind, it’s now. I would have never stopped at the market. I would have gone straight home and told Morgan that they were out of damn taco shells. How can Dorian be so calm about this? Doesn’t this wound him? Knowing that even for a fraction of a millisecond that I allegedly lusted for his dad?
“I’m so sorry, Dorian. I have missed you so much. I swear I have no interest in your father.”
I stretch my neck to look up at my lover, only to find him smiling down at me adoringly. “I know, little girl.” Again he strokes my hair and I go back to listening to his heartbeat. “Did he speak to you?” he asks after a while.
“Huh?” I reply sleepily. Anytime Dorian plays with my hair, I am instantly relaxed to the point of unconsciousness.
“In the dream. Did he speak to you?”
Oh. “Um, yeah. But only like one sentence.” And it was one helluva sentence.
“What did he say?”
I take a deep breath and try to recall what Dorian’s father, the Dark King, said to me verbatim. “He said ‘I can make you feel this sexy, this free every single day.’ What the hell does that even mean?” I say with a nervous, strained chuckle.
Dorian doesn’t return my humor. “I see,” he responds flatly. “It means that he knows that you feel trapped, confined and uncomfortable with yourself. And he can…he can make you feel free and sexy. It means he’ll give you what you want.”
“But all I want is you!” I exclaim whipping my head around so he can see the conviction in my eyes.
Dorian gives me a wistful half-smile. “I know you think you do, little girl.”
He eases my head back down onto his chest and commences to play in my hair. I snuggle into him, letting my own hand stroke his abdomen. Even through his dress shirt, I can feel the hard, taut ripples.
Dorian nuzzles in closer to me and I feel his lips in my hair. “But the king always gets what he wants. And what he wants is you.”
Chapter Ten
“I am just overjoyed that the boys have their mom back. I know they are beyond relieved,” Donna says pulling the roast out of the oven. It smells delicious, and my mouth instantly begins to salivate as the aroma wafts throughout the kitchen. I set three table settings for our traditional family dinner.
“They are. When they found out yesterday, I was afraid they’d kill themselves trying to race to the hospital!” I don’t have the heart to tell her that I had learned of Tammy’s miraculous recovery in the wee hours of the morning before. Or the Dark King’s impromptu visit to our unsuspecting town of Colorado Springs.
“Well, Tammy looks like she’ll be fine. She doesn’t even remember the attack. It’s as if nothing happened at all,” my mom remarks, setting the meat, potatoes and vegetables onto a serving platter. She looks at me skeptically. “So Dorian found a way?”
I shrug, returning my attention to folding the napkins into neat triangles to avoid eye contact. “I guess so.”
“Here, this should do,” Chris interjects as he enters the kitchen. He holds up a bottle of red wine that he’s retrieved from the wine rack in his study. Things are still strained between us though we are both making an effort to rekindle our relationship.
“Looks good, dear,” my mom remarks. “Ok, dinner is served.”
We all sit at the kitchen table, ready to dig into the sumptuous meal that Donna has prepared for us. It’s nice to enjoy a normal family dinner together. I’ve made it a point to at least be here on Sundays, especially since Dorian insisted that Cashmere close early on the conventional holy day so I can spend as much time with my parents as possible. I think he knows how much more difficult it will be to maintain my once carefree, human life after my ascension. He knows Donna and Chris; he likes them. They may have all even been friends at one time. He knows losing me will break their hearts and sympathizes with them. He values my human relationships, causing me to appreciate my family and friends just a little more while I still can.
“So things are going well with Dorian, I presume,” Chris states flatly, filling our glasses with wine.