"Nothing that we can do, no. As far as any other forces, I'm not entirely sure." Donna drops the utensil in her hand, realization setting in. Her face becomes frighteningly pale. "Is this about Dorian? Does he want you to give him a child?"
I shake my head furiously, hoping to ease her worry. "No. He knows I can't have children and he's fine with that." I look away to hide my unresolved sorrow. "It's not like he'd marry me anyway."
Donna reaches over and sets her petite hand on my shoulder. "Oh honey. He can't. Not if he wants to save you. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but he's doing you a favor, you'll see." She cradles my face in both of her small hands. "One day you will find a wonderful young man that will love you for who you are. And you'll be happy. And lead a long, wonderful life full of love and laughter."
I try to find the words to tell her that Dorian is my happiness. That he and I are anchored for life. But what does that mean exactly? That I am aligning with the Dark? That I will pledge my allegiance to them, vow to fight for them? I try to squelch my confusion with a swig of my wine.
"What's that?" Donna asks, pointing at my hand.
"What?" I ask, though I know exactly what she is referring to. The mark Dorian gave me.
She takes my hand, inspecting the little blue anchor. "You got a tattoo? When?"
"Um, a while back. I'm surprised you hadn't seen it." Crap. Though I hadn't gone so far as to wear gloves whenever I came to visit, I wasn't exactly trying to flaunt it either. "Dorian gave it to me," I tack on as an afterthought.
"You let him mark you?!" she shrieks. "Oh dear, what have you done?"
Sheesh, melodramatic much?
"It's no big deal. Just a little tattoo. He has one too."
Donna chews her lip, something obviously eating at her. She drops her eyes and steps forward a bit. "Honey, I think there's something I should-"
"Ok, it's halftime. Please tell me dinner is ready. I'm starving!" Chris stampedes in, appearing to have had a couple beers. Judging by the roars and jeers, his team is winning. I give him a bright smile, genuinely thrilled to see him so laidback. Finally things are headed in the right direction with us and I long for the closeness we once shared.
"Sure is, Dad. Let's eat!" I exclaim beaming. And while I am not totally ignorant of Donna's doubts, I can't find the strength to ingest any more revelations.
***
The next afternoon, Carmen informs me that Dorian has left a message for me to come to Luxe to see him right away. I quickly slather on a fresh coat of lipgloss, eager to see Dorian and curious as to what has brought him to the salon. He hardly ever goes there and truly has no interest in the cosmetology industry. I walk the block or so towards Luxe, the brisk mountain air causing me to pull my leather jacket around me. Many of the shops and restaurant are displaying whimsy Halloween decorations and I make a mental note to pick some up for Cashmere at a party supply store.
As I approach the salon, a chilling sensation rips through me, causing me to shiver violently for a spilt second. Goosebumps prick every inch of my skin and I pull my jacket tighter around me, unable to shake the unexpected, gripping cold. I can feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. Sheesh, talk about a case of heebie-jeebies. Could someone be watching me? I quickly scamper into the salon, anxious to find solace in Dorian and inform him of my suspicion.
"Hey Gabs, what's up?" Morgan inquires, looking over her shoulder as she finishes up with a client.
"Dorian called me. Said he needed to see me." I glance back over towards the door, still feeling on edge.
"Dorian? He isn't here today." Morgan then removes the black cape from her client and spins the chair around. "There you go, sir. Now you look even more handsome, if that's even possible," she gushes.
As my eyes fall on the dashing man sitting before me clad in a dark tailored suit, I fight the blood-curdling scream building in my throat. He smirks, his gleaming blue eyes scanning the length of my body hungrily.
"Hello, Gabriella. How lovely to see you again," he says coolly. His words sound muffled, muted by the rapid pounding of my heart vibrating in my ears.
I open my mouth to fashion a response, aware that Morgan is looking between the two of us clearly perplexed. Shit. What do I say?
"Hello, Stavros. What brings you to Luxe today?"
The Dark King smiles menacingly, and as devilishly handsome as he is, I can't help but feel nauseous with terror. "Oh, just thought I would stop by. And I wanted to see you." His voice is smooth yet assertive, not unlike his son's. Dorian. Where is he?
My eyes flicker to Morgan who is bursting with confusion. Noticing the anxiety and alarm etched on my face, Stavros casually holds up his hand, causing everyone and everything in the salon to abruptly freeze before my eyes. I can't believe it; every person is unmoving, totally frozen in time where they stand. Morgan is still staring at me, her eyes narrowed in puzzlement. She looks like a wax statue of herself, along with the other stylists and patrons of Luxe. Unreal. My eyes grow wide with horror, and I open my mouth to scream, praying that someone somewhere will hear me.
"Careful, young lady. I wouldn't do that if I were you. Snap of my fingers is all it would take to end everyone in here. I do not wish to harm you or your friends. I only want to talk."
"Where's Dorian?" I croak mustering every ounce of courage left in me. I am trembling yet I give him a steely gaze, refusing to let him see me ruffled. I am screaming, fighting within, struggling to maintain my composure. Oh my God! What the hell is happening?
"My son will be along shortly." Stavros stands, buttoning his suit jacket, his smoldering eyes never leaving mine. "I only wish to speak with you. If you would do me the honor of taking a walk with me, the humans in this salon will not be harmed." He extends the crook of his arm to me.
"And they'll go back to how they were?"
"Yes. You have my word." Stavros drops his arm and instead extends his hand. "Please." I look down at it then back up to meet his eyes, my glare hard and unforgiving. "You know you want to. It'd make us both feel better," he smiles, flashing a row of gleaming, white teeth.
"I'll walk with you. But keep your hands to yourself."
Turning on my heel, I stalk out of the salon, willing my shaky knees to keep me upright. His footsteps are silent yet I know he is right behind me. I can feel him. Where the hell is Dorian? Can't he sense my anxiety?
I lead Stavros away from the salon, my arms wrapped around me tightly. It suddenly seems much colder than it was just minutes before and I am overly aware of the pulsing current crackling in the space between us. Once we have reached a grassy clearing hosting a few park benches, I stop and turn to him abruptly.
"Ok, you wanted to talk. So talk," I say tersely.
"Relax, Gabriella. Have a seat," Stavros says, unbuttoning his suit jacket and gracefully folding his tall, broad frame onto a bench. He looks up at me and smiles, looking mouthwateringly suave. I sit at the other end of the bench with a huff, knowing exactly what his game is. "Now, first thing's first. You sent back my gift. Why?"
My head snaps to him and I frown, despite the flutter deep down in my stomach. Now that I see him up close, I notice that he looks younger than I initially thought. Glossy raven hair, glittering blue eyes, and tan olive skin. A more refined, polished version of Dorian. Classically handsome yet sinfully sexy. Shit.
"I didn't want it," I mutter.
"Oh but I think you do want it. Don't let your affections for my son dissuade you from the things you really want in life. Things that I can and will provide." I see the pink of Stavros's tongue as it glides across the top of his teeth, causing my breath to hitch involuntarily. "And unlike my son, I won't make you work for it. If you were mine, I'd give you anything you wanted. Not hire you as my employee," he scoffs.
"But I like to work. It keeps me busy," I say meekly. I clear my voice and try to square my shoulders. Stay strong, Gabs. "And besides, I think you do want me as your employee. Just in a sick, twisted way."
Stavros's full lips curl downward as if he is considering the validity of my statement. "Believe what you wish, but you don't recognize the real villain here. I won't deny my intentions, as depraved as you may view them, but at least I am honest. Can you say the same of your beloved?"
Is he serious? "Are you trying to say that I shouldn't trust Dorian? Knowing that he can't lie? And weren't you the one who cursed him in the first place?" I glare at him through the narrow slits of my eyes. He has successfully pissed me off. "I trust him wholeheartedly. He could have killed me months ago. And he hasn't tried to mind-fuck me without my consent."
Stavros blinks rapidly, his gaze heating with rage. I can literally feel the inferno brewing under his impassive guise. I've hit a nerve. Just as I think he is about to unleash his darkness on all of downtown Colorado Springs, he smiles. "Gabriella, you slay me," he remarks, obviously amused. "Judging by your most recent show of devotion, I'd say he has most certainly earned your trust."
"What are you talking about?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
The Dark King reaches towards my right hand and I quickly pull it back, refusing to let him touch me. He smirks and cuts his eyes at me. "I won't hurt you, Gabriella. I don't like repeating myself. I was referring to your tattoo. You let him mark you."