The Dark Prince(The Dark Light Series #2)(21)
"Good idea!" It really is; the guys have both visibly lost weight from eating so much hospital food when they do eat at all. With their mom still in her fixed state, their entire lives have been turned upside down.
"What'd you have in mind?" I ask, genuinely excited to hang with my friends.
"Let's make it a fiesta! Tacos, nachos, and, of course, Senor Tequila! I can make a mean margarita."
"Cool, let's do it." I could use a good distraction and tequila has proven be a great coping mechanism in the past.
"So I'll call Miguel, the guys, and I'm guessing Dorian and Aurora will be there?"
Just the mere mention of his name makes my heart sink, causing a twinge of grief to attack my chest. "Ummm, not Dorian. He has a business matter to tend to this evening."
"Oh. Ok, I guess. Well, then I'll see you later. I'll stop by the store after I get off at 7 so I can get everything together. I'll even have Miguel come over to help so he can make sure I don't muck it up. What time will you get home tonight?"
"Eh, around 9:30. Save me a margarita?" Lord knows I need it and then some.
We say our goodbyes and I continue to sift through my inbox. I receive one from an email address I don't recognize and the subject field is blank. Probably just junk mail but my curiosity gets the best of me.
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SUBJECT: (none)
Dark Light,
8 months
Align with the Dark or Die
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Ugh! Seriously? So now messages at my job? I get the freakin' point. A bunch of threatening messages is not going to sway my decision. And can they be any more predictable? First, Dorian cancels our plans for some unknown reason and now I get some asinine cyber threat? Just not my day.
Out of sheer annoyance I hit the ‘Reply' button and begin to fashion my own email.
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SUBJECT: Real original
Dear Dark Assholes,
I get the point. Showing me that you know how to log onto a computer and utilize Google must've taken some pretty keen strategizing on your part.
Really, really cool trick. Now leave me the hell alone.
-The DL
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I hesitate before pressing ‘Send,' knowing that I am just provoking them and asking for trouble. But hell, I don't care. If they want to harass me for simply living, then they can get a taste of their own medicine. Soon after I have sent the message, I receive an ‘Undeliverable' notice in response. Oh great. Seconds later, I get another email from Dorian.
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SUBJECT: STOP
Gabriella,
Don't ever do that shit again. I'm serious.
-D
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The fuck? How did he know? It doesn't even surprise me. Something obviously has crawled up his ass and his attempt at reprimanding me just makes me even more annoyed. I power down my computer without responding and rejoin Carmen on the sales floor for the remainder of the evening, desperately trying to forget all forces of Dark, Light or other.
As I am counting the register after closing, I receive a text message from Morgan, asking me to swing by the grocery store and pick up another package of taco shells. I lock up the store for the night and jump in my trusty Honda and head for the nearby market, which lucky for me, stays open late. The aisle housing the Mexican cuisine features an array of products and brands. I choose one at random, and when I turn to head for the register, I nearly collide with a broad chest clothed in navy blue pinstripes.
"Uh, um, excuse me," I stammer, taking a step back to gather myself.
"No, excuse me," a deep baritone croons.
I look up to give the gentlemen an apologetic smile and am struck senseless by the mere sight of him. Smooth tan skin with not even a shadow of stubble, dark slicked hair, and striking blue eyes. He's tall with broad shoulders, draped in what I can only imagine is an expensive designer tailored suit. I can tell he's a good bit older than I am, maybe mid 30s at the most, but as handsome and dashing as he is, no man 10 years his junior could compete. Now I know what the term ‘debonair' means; he is the living embodiment of it.
From what I can see in the few seconds our eyes lock, the man emanates class and elegance, causing an unwelcomed pulsing below to break me from my musings. I quickly flash him a nervous grin and all but run to the checkout to mask my flushed cheeks. Wow, I must really be craving Dorian. Other than him, I've never been so sexually affected just by a simple glance.
I race home, trying to escape my embarrassingly erotic reaction to the painfully handsome stranger and the image of his enticing smirk as he watched me exit. Shit! Something was off about that man. Something I've seen before. Felt before. I can't be certain but a deep-seated instinct is telling me that whoever- whatever- he is, he's dangerous. And I was dangerously drawn to him. I shake my head, trying to dispel my guilt-mixed desire, and make my way inside to my friends and many needed shots of tequila.
"Gabs! You're home!" Jared slurs, enrapturing me in one of his famous bear hugs. Looks like he's already beat me to it.
"Hey, Jared! I missed you, buddy!" I greet him, equally enthusiastic. I make it a point not to bring up Tammy's condition. This night is about fun, and anguish mixed with hard liquor is not a good combination. "Where's Aurora?"
"She couldn't make it but this really isn't her thing anyway," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Definitely our thing though." He gives me a little nudge of his elbow and returns his attention back to loading his plate.
Platters of tacos, nachos, salsa, guacamole, and condiments crowd our dining room table along with a pitcher of margaritas. I toss my purse and head to the kitchen to stow the taco shells. When I return to the fiesta, I see that Morgan has on a giant sombrero, a margarita in one hand and is about to belt out a tune on the karaoke machine. Wow. Even Dolce, her pretentious Chihuahua, has on a brightly colored outfit and mini sombrero. Jared, James and Miguel are all lounging on the couches, munching, laughing and talking.
As I grab a plate and a family-sized margarita, I smile at the sight of my friends. It's just like old times- the five of us hanging out, acting like rowdy college kids. We were carefree, only worrying about the prospect of getting lucky that night or not being too hungover at work or class the next day. This is how it should be. We should get the chance to be young and dumb instead of being bogged down by supernatural crises.
My mind wanders to the photo that is now housed in the drawer of my nightstand. Chris, Donna, Natalia, Alexander and Dorian. They were not unlike us, just five friends that wanted to enjoy every minute together. They only wanted love, acceptance and understanding. They only wanted to live. And they deserved to, no matter what world they were birthed into. They didn't get the choice that I was given. All of the trivial worries that plagued me months ago seem so ridiculous now. The five of them fought to live. To love. Privileges we take for granted. I want to honor their memory. I want to prove to my parents, both human and otherworldly, that I can do this. I can and will live up to my destiny.
"Hey Gabs, get over here! You'll miss the show!" Jared calls to me, breaking me from my reverie.
I smile at him brightly. "Well, line ‘em up, because I've got some catching up to do."
After Morgan belts out her tipsy rendition of Madonna's "Like a Virgin," we all take turns wearing the giant sombrero and singing our favorite songs. We even do a few duets, complete with ridiculously dramatic dance moves. I laugh until my stomach hurts and tears sprout in the corners of my eyes. I've missed this. As much as I love being with Dorian, there's nothing like an outrageously fun night with your best friends.
I'm not sure when we all pass out for the night but somehow I make it to my own bed. Sleep comes easy with the help of one too many libations and I quickly fall into a vivid, colorful dream.
I'm on a white-sand beach, the bright sun bathing my body with warmth. There isn't a cloud in the sky and the ocean waters are so clear you can see straight to the bottom. An array of vibrant multicolored fish and coral inhabit the crystal blue waters, and I gasp in awe.
In the distance I see lush green hills. Atop of them sit hundreds of little houses, all sandstone white with rust colored roofs. Very European. I look to the other side of me and find magnificent stone structures. Nature's statues. Everything is perfect, and I am content, even alone.
I look down at myself and am amazed at the beautiful white bikini I'm wearing. It makes me feel so sexy, so uninhibited. I lay down right onto the bare ground and the warm sands welcome me. There's a nice breeze, just enough to cool me from the sun's rays. I spread my arms and soak it all up, completely relaxed and contented. This must be heaven.
Suddenly a dark figure stands before me, gazing down at me, blocking the sunlight from reaching me. My eyes adjust to the unexpected shade. I look to see who my mystery visitor could be and gasp at the discovery.
It's him.
The strikingly handsome man from the market dressed in the navy blue suit. He looks down at me, giving me the same seductive smirk from earlier, admiring my body in the scanty bikini. His eyes dance with delight at the sight of me, and it makes me feel … sexy, desirable.
I don't try to cover myself. I let him marvel at my curves. I even make a show of it, slowly letting my hands caress my thighs, my bare stomach, the tops of my breasts. I lick my lips for him and my eyes narrow as I look up at his approving grin. I continue to gently fondle myself, hoping that he will find pleasure in my erotic display. I want to impress him. I want to show him that even though I may be young, I can please him. I want him to touch my body. I want to feel his skin on mine. But he makes no move to appease me. His restraint is maddening and only intensifies my hunger for him.