Dorian shrugs. "Obviously, there are those of us who don't want peace. They don't want to restore the natural order. Then there are some who feel that your power could be … useful."
"Your father," I whisper. He wants to use me, keep me as his little pet to attack those who defy him.
"Yes." Dorian's hands find their way to my scalp, and he begins to massage. I instantly feel all the tension drain from my body. Dorian and those magic fingers.
"Is that why you hate him? Because he doesn't want peace? Because he likes this corrupted regime?"
"That's not the only reason. The Dark, especially the Skotos, were corrupt long before his rule. And sadly, so was I. I'm no boy scout but honestly, it was just getting old. Decades of killing, sating my wanton desires without regard, straying from our true purpose. I wanted something else, something more. I knew it was out there but I never truly felt it until I found you." I feel Dorian's soft lips kiss the crown of my head lovingly. I squeeze my arms tighter across his waist in response.
"And he wanted to keep you from finding it, from finding happiness," I say, trying to piece together the scattered remains of Dorian and his father's strained relationship. Every child wants love and acceptance from their parents, even when the parents are degenerate villains. There has to be another reason. The Dark King must've personally hurt his son in some awful way. A pang of sorrow strikes my chest and I stifle a pained gasp.
"Yes." I feel Dorian's body become rigid with apprehension but before I can excuse him from his painful account, he takes a deep breath and continues. "I was very young, not even a century old. I wanted the world. Ambitious, strong, stubborn. Aurora was in my life then. We had plans for the future, and I really thought she was what I wanted."
Oh. Aurora. The stunning, seductive sex goddess. The fancy slore in expensive shoes. His first love.
Her intrusion into our intimate conversation makes my throat tighten and I fight the urge to groan my disdain. I know they had a very colorful sex life. After seeing how sensual their power exchange was for myself, how could I deny their intense chemistry? He wanted her. And even though I know his feelings for her have changed dramatically since they were young, I can't help but feel a little twinge of jealousy at the history and connection they share.
Dorian lifts my chin up a bit to meet my mouth with his. His taste revitalizes every nerve in my body. He is sustenance; I need him like I need air. He must feel my irrational resentment and wants me to know that he is here for me and me alone. I'd be a fool to doubt his intentions after all he's shared this evening.
"My father had a different view of who I was to be. The thought that one day I could sit on his throne secretly frightened him. He likes the authority; he likes to feel as if he should be worshipped as a god. It was never what I wanted, and he feared that one day I would succumb to my … humanity. So he thought if he could break me, could unleash my inner demons, I'd either embrace his way or run away from it altogether."
Dorian gives my arm a little squeeze as if he's trying to brace himself for the painful memory that he's kept hidden all these years. "As I told you, Aurora is an órexis. And if there is one thing that the órexes cannot deny it is sexual desire. I thought my affections were enough to sustain her. I was wrong."
I look up at the strong, beautiful man before me. Though his voice is level and unaffected, I know he has been hurt. How could he not be enough for any woman? And not just in the sexual sense either. Dorian, the kind, mesmerizing, mysterious, sexy, humble man I fell head over heels in love with is more than enough. He is everything.
Dorian sighs, letting go of the tension that has bound him in his solemn recollection. "My father's method of seduction to lure Aurora was not unlike what he has tried to do with you. Once he knows your deepest, darkest secrets, he manipulates you into thinking that he can provide anything you want, anything you need.
"Aurora went to him willingly unbeknownst to me. She offered herself to him; she wanted to pleasure him. And as they were engaged in the heinous act, he summoned me so I could see for myself just how insanely depraved and wicked he really is. Aurora couldn't say anything. She had no explanation for what she had done. And I can't fully blame her. He took advantage of her weaknesses, her fears, her desires."
My already aching heart completely splinters at Dorian's divulgence. How could his own father, the man who gave him life, be so revoltingly vicious? Not to mention, sleep with his girlfriend and then call his son in to witness it? I want to cry, scream, fight for my scorned lover. Yet I hold in my pained sobs, knowing that feeling my grief will only bring him more torment.
"You know, I'll never forget the smug look on his face. He was so … satisfied with himself as if he had done me a favor. He said to me, ‘See son, a true king always gets what he wants.'" Dorian sucks his teeth, his jaw tight with contempt. "Arrogant fuck."
Dorian releases the grip on my arm and massages as if he has just realized he was squeezing it. "After that, I joined the Shadow and buried myself in hunting and killing to fill the massive void that he strived to make even broader. I didn't see nor speak to my family or Aurora until I was summoned. When they discovered your parents."
"Oh Dorian," I croak. My throat is rough and dry with emotion. I clear it then look up at him with glossy eyes. "I would never do that. Ever. I don't care what he thinks he knows about me. There is nothing he could give me that I don't already have in you."
Dorian gives me his boyish, dazzling half-grin. He is simply so breathtaking, it literally makes my heart sputter. His smile makes me smile, and I do so widely. I lean forward a bit and gently touch my lips to his. Just a simple gesture to show him that he is not alone, and that my love for him is tender and sincere. He doesn't want pity. He doesn't want mourning. And I won't give him that. I will give him me. I have to fix Dorian, the Dark assassin that I love so much it hurts, just as he has fixed me in my time of need. And there's only one way I know how.
I let my hand move from his jawline to his disheveled black hair, grabbing soft handfuls. The other stealthily yet shakily reaches for the hem of his shirt. I slide it upwards, revealing defined cuts of muscle under smooth, olive skin and I gasp at the feel of it. His body truly never ceases to amaze me.
"I want it off," I murmur, pulling away from him only to relinquish him of his shirt. I marvel at the sheer splendor before me, struggling to pull my eyes away. God, he's marvelous. I could literally look at his body all day.
Hastily, I rejoin our lips, swinging my leg over his lap to straddle him. My tongue explores the sweet softness of his mouth as my hands grip his silky locks with fervor. I could never get enough of kissing him. The taste of his tongue is downright orgasmic. I moan against his lips, enthusiastically feeding my hunger for him.
Dorian's hands are on my ass, squeezing, kneading, pulling me into the growing stiffness of his middle. Luckily I am only sheathed in a sleepshirt and panties, giving him easy access to my already tingling erogenous zones. But this is my show; I want to show him how much he is desired and loved. Tonight is not about him giving me yet another earth-shattering, hair-pulling, lip-biting orgasm. Tonight is about pleasing him.
Reluctantly, I pull my lips away from his only to leave a trail of soft kisses from his lips to his neck. I inhale his mouthwatering scent, all the while grazing the tiny stubble of his chin and throat with my tongue. I kiss a path to his marble-like chest, so smooth and hard to the touch. My lips find his right nipple, where I tease and suck and kiss tenderly. I hear him groan at the sensation, and his compulsory reaction encourages me to continue, moving to his left where I repeat the routine. His sighs develop into low hisses, and I know he is affected. He is aroused, and hearing him so exposed, so vulnerable, causes the flame between my thighs to erupt into a raging combustion.
"Shit, Gabriella," Dorian moans, motivating me to repeat my slow, torturous attack.
My hands find the fly of his jeans, and I eagerly unfasten the top button and unzip them, unveiling the strained bulge constricted in denim. It feels so strong and vital, I just want it to live inside me. My hungry mouth leaves his skin so I can focus on the task of unleashing the pulsing, raging monster begging to be freed. I maneuver his jeans down to his ankles, where he aides me in my efforts by hurriedly kicking them off. I take in the magnificent man before me clad only in dark boxer briefs. As much as I want to just capture this moment and commit it to memory, I want him. And a simple eye-fuck will just not do.
I tug at the waist of his underwear, eager to discover just how deep his desire goes. As always, he doesn't disappoint. Dorian gives me a front row viewing of his rock-hard length, causing my eyes to grow wide with delight. Impulsively, I lower my mouth to it, kissing the tip gently. I can hear a surprised breath catch in Dorian's throat. He wants this, and so do I. And I give it to him, hungrily devouring his beautiful hardness with vigor.
Deep, baritone moans harmonize with the music, creating a melodic symphony of sex. Despite his pleas to slow my pace and show him mercy, I continue my oral assault, relishing in the involuntary trembles of his legs. I challenge myself to take him deeper and deeper into my mouth, wanting to taste every inch of him. Not because I have to, but because I want to. Pleasing him is all the motivation I need.