The Dark Prince(The Dark Light Series #2)(24)

When I arrive home late that evening and have stowed the insane amount of leftovers packaged lovingly by Donna, I find Dorian is in my room waiting for me. I hadn't seen nor heard from him since early the morning before when Jared and James had received a call from the hospital, informing them of their mom's recovery. He dashed out of here, muttering something about tying up loose ends. I wasn't about to beg him to stay. I needed to be happy for my friends and let them enjoy their moment of triumph. And as perturbed as I was by not hearing from Dorian, seeing him now, looking every bit as deliciously sexy as he always is in jeans and a dark knit V-neck tee, I can't be mad at him. I know he had a good reason for staying away. At least that's what I have to believe.

"You're back," I remark, kicking off my sandals and tossing my purse onto my dresser. He really hates when I do this. He's always so meticulously neat. Oh well, I can't wave a finger and have my room magically transformed into a showroom. I trot into my conjoined bathroom to freshen up, knowing that it will be tidied when I emerge and secretly grin to myself.

After brushing my teeth and throwing on an oversized tee, I find Dorian at the large window next to my bed. I've realized looking out into the darkness helps him think, gives him clarity. He's holding a glass of scotch from the stash he keeps here for his visits. I think to wrap my arms around him and rest my head on the firm ripples of his back but I need answers before getting distracted by his body.

I flop down onto my bed and pick up the tiny remote to my stereo system, looking for something mellow and cathartic. I opt for Coldplay; I have a feeling it's going to be a long, emotional night.

"I had to make sure he was gone," he says after a few strained minutes.

Oh. I don't dare ask him to clarify; I know who he means. His father. The dashing, charming, yet disgustingly manipulative Dark King.

"And he is, I presume." I try to sound unbiased, unaffected but I just can't seem to wash away the aggravation from my voice.

Dorian finally looks to me, a mixture of remorse and relief in his eyes. He takes another sip of his potent poison then hands it to me. I purposely take a sip in the same spot that his succulent lips have just kissed before setting it on my bedside table. I look up at him in expectance of his explanation for his disappearing act.

"I needed to be certain that he would not come for you. Occupy him, entertain him with … other things." Dorian picks up the crystal glass and downs its contents as if to wash away the vile memory of spending quality time with his dad.

I have a pretty good idea of what Dorian means. The Dark King is a known philandering murderer. Who knows what kind of disgusting, kinky activities he's into? And what could that mean for Dorian? Was he expected to engage in the same? I can't bring myself to even entertain the notion.

"And he was … satisfied? Enough to leave?"

Ick. No matter how handsome, refined or alluring his father is, imagining him getting his rocks off by causing someone bodily harm is revolting. I physically cringe at the thought of the brutality.

"I'd say so. But I know what you're thinking. He is a little more tactful than you would expect. You'd be surprised. The women are just as depraved and immoral. They like it. They beg him for it." Dorian takes a single finger and lifts my chin up to meet his gaze. "I don't do any of it. Ever. I don't want to and I never have."

"I know," I murmur, refusing to meet his gaze. And I do know. Dorian could have any woman in the world. Any. But he came here. I'm not overly confident in myself, yet I am not stupid or insecure enough to pester him with trivial girl worries.

"Do you? Because I feel like there's something else. Like something you're keeping from me. You're uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable." I whisper, wringing my hands.

Dorian gives me a knowing look accompanied by a skeptical smirk. Shit. Can he feel everything?

I take a deep breath and look up at the gorgeous creature before me, hoping like hell that I don't offend him. "Ok, ok. It's just … I'm trying to understand what happened. I know you say you hate your father and he is … disappointed with the choices you've made. But being Dark, the things you've rejected, the things that you dislike in him, don't they just come natural for your kind? I know my father, Alex, was different, but so are you. If there are more that feel like you do, and I'm sure there are, why is consorting with the Light so forbidden? And why am I the only one of my kind?"

Dorian's gaze darkens a bit yet I don't feel it is in anger or even desire. No, this is something else, another layer to the enigma that is the man I love. Maybe shame? Regret?

"You are perceptive, little girl."

With a sigh, Dorian sits beside me, kicking off his shoes before scooting himself upward so he is reclining on the mound of pillows. Usually he would have somewhat manifested in the spot but I notice that he hasn't used since he's arrived. Did he overexert himself during his father's visit? Is he weakened?

He pulls me into his arms, placing my head on his hard, warm chest. Ahhh. This is heaven. Feeling him, having him close to me, makes me feel like all is right in the world, and there are no murderers, no sociopathic fathers, no Light, no Dark. Just us.

"First of all, we didn't start out as evil. When the Divine Power created us, we were literally made to rule the dark, the night. Just as the Light were made to control the day. Sort of like nature's guardians.

"But as time went on, the worldly temptations that were shrouded in the dark hours of night grew undeniable to our kind, and the Dark became consumed with lust, greed, power. They wanted to rule the night and everything else, and would stop at nothing to obtain their desires. Even kill to sate the thirst for omnipotence. Thus spawning the idea that darkness is synonymous for evil."

"So it's true? There is no such thing as absolute evil?" I knew it! Dorian could never be completely immoral, even if he tried. There truly is good in him.

"No. Not originally. But over time, our power evolved into something else. Something dark and destructive. We lost our ability to heal, our ability to help others unselfishly. Our ability to love and show compassion naturally. We were completely corrupted."

I nod against his chest, trying to formulate a way of tactfully asking my next question. "So, um, if the Divine Power created you, the Dark, why couldn't he, you know, end you? I mean, I'm glad that didn't happen for obvious reasons, but it seems like the logical solution."

I feel Dorian's lips in my hair then hear him swiftly inhale, breathing life back into his weary body. He needed this contact for more than the comfort of our close proximity.

"We were created to be complementary to the Light. Two separate yet equal powers. We are the Yin and Yang. Without one, the other cannot survive. To destroy us would also end the Light."

Oh. That makes sense. Also keeps the Dark from completely annihilating the Light. Driving the Light into extinction would be suicide.

"There were other consequences." Dorian gently lifts me off of his chest to lift his shirt. A sharp breath reflexively catches in my throat at the sight of his smooth, delicious torso. "The tattoo. We, the Dark, are marked. Only other supernatural creatures can see it as a way to warn them of our treachery, to shame us for our transgressions. You've heard of the Mark of the Beast?"

I furrow my brow in confusion. "From the book of Revelation? But I thought that was 666? And wasn't that, like, towards the end of the world or something?"

Geez, this is getting creepy.

Dorian shakes his head before sliding his shirt back down to cover his magnificence. Dammit. But I can't be distracted with my carnal desires, not when he is sharing so much with me.

"Each is the name of our clan, or our family. The Skotos, the órexes, and even your father's family, the Polemos, are all branded. There are many others, though the Skotos have been the ruling family for thousands of years, long before even my father was created. However, it has been said that there will be one that will wear the true Mark of the Beast."

Dorian strokes my cheek with back of his hand, letting his touch linger for a long beat at my chin. "Some believe it will be you."

"What?!" I scream, with no regard for courtesy or modesty. Oh hell no! Did he just say what I think he said? Of all the bizarre conversations, this has to be the most asinine, ridiculous, sacrilegious one yet. I look at Dorian with wild, horrified eyes. "Are you trying to say that I'm the freakin' antichrist?!"

Dorian chuckles before shaking his head. "No, no, calm down. Of course not. But you are a unique breed, so to speak. People will try to breathe truth into any fable they don't quite understand. It is not you; only the Divine Power knows who and when. You are quite the opposite. Your birth was considered the coming of a new dawn. A savior … to the Light, that is."

Whew. Disaster averted. I don't even feel comfortable discussing the end of days, let alone contributing to it. "How so?" I ask, thankful for the change in direction. I let out a deep sigh of relief and nestle back into his arms.

"Their hope is that you will restore the balance, bring peace amongst the Light and Dark. While most of the Light are hopeful that you will succeed in this by aligning with them, there are others who fear your power."

"And the Dark? How do they feel about my presence?" I ask meekly. Whatever it is, it can't be good.