I sigh and give my muddled thoughts in my brain a resigned shake. "So, your father is the king?" I ask, hoping to reignite our earlier conversation.
"Yes."
"And you're a prince? The Dark Prince?"
"Yes."
"Why? Why give all that up to save me? To keep my parents' secret?" I'm trying hard to wrap my head around it but no sane person, immortal or not, would wage war against his own family, who just happens to be the ruling family of the Dark Ones. No big deal.
"I told you. I was becoming everything I was seeking to reject. I was becoming my father. Brash, evil, merciless. All magic has its price. I had to constantly kill just to retain my youth and power. It was becoming all-consuming."
Yikes. I can't imagine Dorian killing anyone. "And now? You don't have to kill to replenish yourself?"
Dorian shrugs. "I have no need to use that much power anymore. The night sustains me enough, though it takes time. And I'm ashamed to admit that I breathe so much of you, I have no need to acquire any other source," he says sheepishly. That's comforting, I guess.
"And how do you know if you breathe too much?"
"If I take too much of you, my love, I will kill you. So I am very careful, and I give you me in return. But I worry. I'd be lying if I said that I don't and you know that's impossible for me," he chuckles lightly. "I worry about not being able to resist you. Or how it would affect you in the long run."
"What do you mean?"
"You are the Dark Light. Half Light and half Dark equally. But I am afraid of you becoming more Dark. I don't want to eclipse the Light in you. I don't want to change you."
I contemplate Dorian's words. He is right; I've worried about being more Dark than Light even before I knew about him. Could this be the fortune teller's prophecy? She said that the Dark would consume me, yet I would welcome it. Was she killed because of what she saw in me?
"You're hungry," Dorian remarks.
"Huh?" I ask quizzically. There was only a faint rumble in my stomach. Even I didn't really notice. Geez, he must have bionic hearing. Tack that on along with the psycho phantom face and the telepathy.
"Whatever you feel, Gabriella, I feel. So let me feed you," he smiles.
After Dorian calls down to room service, we lounge on the couch, eating late night junk food like a regular couple on a Friday night. Even with our volatile showdown earlier and the unexpected arrival of Aurora, it's nice. It still feels right. I can tell that Dorian has made every effort he possibly could not to scare me, even though I internally cringe every time his gaze turns icy or he moves too swiftly. He's trying though; he's here. And I'm alive. At this point, that's all I could really ask for.
"When did you start to understand?" Dorian asks.
"Understand?" Realization hits me before Dorian has a chance to answer. "Oh, the language. I started getting bits and pieces at first. That night in the limo up at Breckenridge. I heard you and Aurora talking. About … killing me." I give him my hard, unapologetic glare, refusing to let him slither out of this with a vague answer.
"Gabriella, we weren't discussing killing you. You misunderstood. She was informing me of the Dark's presence at the club the night before I arrived. She ensured you were safe, watched you. Like I said, there is no separate order for your death, not since I negotiated a deal with my father. However, I don't trust anyone, and neither should you."
"But you trust Aurora?" I say with a bit of nastiness, making it sound more like an accusation. I take a sip of wine to wash away the bitter taste of jealousy.
"Yes. To an extent."
I suck my teeth and roll my eyes. "And that's all she said? She didn't mention someone being in my room later that night?" Something tells me Aurora at least knows about it, if not orchestrated it.
Dorian's head unnaturally snaps around to face me, his eyes igniting with molten blue flames. He sneers menacingly, the dim light glinting off his teeth. "What?"
I gulp, instantly regretting telling him about it. But me and thinking things through have never really gone hand in hand. "I mean, I saw someone in the shadows and then they just disappeared. I wasn't hurt."
"And where was she?" he demands.
"Oh, um, she was … busy. With Jared."
Dorian grounds his teeth and a low hiss escapes. Crap. Hope Aurora is a fast runner. Or the Dark have an excellent health insurance plan.
Dorian takes the wine glass from my trembling hand and places it on the coffee table before cupping my face in his grasp. "I apologize for that. Please forgive me. Aurora will be dealt with."
I perk up into a reassuring smile before leaning forward to press my lips against his. There's so much more I need to know and I need to restore Dorian's casual disposition to sift those answers from him. In return, Dorian eases into a half-smile, his eyes returning to their glittering hue.
"There's something I need to show you," I say, pulling his hands from my face. I spy my purse crumpled a few feet away and go to grab it. After a few seconds of rummaging, I place the photo in his hands, awaiting his reaction.
Dorian strokes the picture with his thumb, his initially surprised expression growing warm and nostalgic. "Where did you get this?" he asks without looking up.
"I can't be sure. I found it in my room. My mother, Natalia, she left a journal for me. You know, I never knew who I was or where I came from. On my birthday, my parents- um, I mean, Chris and Donna- gave it to me. Twenty years of complete and utter confusion, and then all of a sudden, I'm bombarded with all this shit," I say with a wave of my hand.
Dorian looks up at me with a furrowed brow. "So all this time, you really didn't know what I was? I think I made it pretty obvious."
I take a deep breath and shrug my shoulders. "Part of me always knew. A big part, actually. I just didn't want to believe that the first guy I was really, really into wasn't a guy at all," I chuckle nervously. "Then there's the whole crazed-killer-out-for-my-blood thing. I figured that if you really were Dark, I'd be dead."
"Right," he responds dryly.
"What do you mean, you made it obvious? Isn't that against the rules or something?" I ask, my eyes narrowed with question.
Dorian nods, setting the photo down on the coffee table before grabbing his own glass of wine for a hearty sip. "I thought if you knew- if I showed you what I was- it'd make it easier. I was constantly trying to motivate myself to do it. To kill you. I thought if you knew, I'd have no choice but to follow through."
"Oh yeah? And how's that working out for you?"
"Not so great," he laughs, leaning back beside me. His laughter is infectious and I join him. Given our impending doom, there's not much else we can do.
"So what do we do now? Where do we go from here?" I ask once our chuckles have ceased.
"I try like hell to keep you alive, being the fragile little thing that you are for now. And then once you turn 21, the choice is yours."
Twenty-one. I was simply looking forward to buying booze and getting into nightclubs without flashing my fake ID. Now knowing that my ascension will save my life, and potentially Dorian's, it all has new meaning. I just need to make it to twenty one.
I look to the Greek god sitting next to me, making the conscious decision to do whatever it takes to save both our lives.
"So I take it you're not twenty five."
Dorian shakes his head. "Our physical forms stop aging when our power reaches its full potential. Using ages us but we can replenish in … various ways. My body stopped changing after 25 years." His mouth twists with mischief, making him look young and ridiculously adorable.
He turns to me, his eyes flickering with nostalgia. "Gabriella, I have lived for two and a half centuries."
What the … ? "Holy shit! You're 250 years old?!"
Dorian gives me a wink of his beautiful eye in response. "Surprised?"
"Um, hell yeah! Ok, that's pretty much disgusting, Chester the Molester. I've been screwing an ancient artifact!"
Before I can even break into a giggle, I am pinned flat against the far end of the couch, unable to move or even comprehend how I got here. My arms are pinioned above my head and Dorian is hovering over me, his lips fixed into a menacing sneer.
"Make no mistake, little girl," he mutters just inches from my face. "I am anything but ancient. And you haven't seen screwing. Not yet."
"Is that a threat?" I pant, my heaving chest making my hardened nipples that much more noticeable.
"I don't do threats. That's another thing that's not my style." Dorian licks his lips and I have to fight the urge to lift my mouth to his and suck his tongue into my mouth.
I squirm under his sinful gaze. "A promise?"
Answering my question, Dorian lowers his mouth to mine yet doesn't touch me. His cool breath kisses my skin, leaving icy tingles in its wake.
"Is that what you want?" he asks. I nod, completely mesmerized by his closeness and the feel of his body against mine. Dorian then grazes my jaw with a single finger, teasing me like only he can. "I want you to say it. Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me to make you feel good. Tell me you want me to fill you, live deep inside you. Tell me, little girl."
"I want you, Dorian," I nearly sob, taken aback by his intensity. Not to mention my overwhelming need for him in every way imaginable. "So fucking bad it hurts."