Dorian's Destiny: Altered

by Amanda Long

  “Pardon me?” He inquired, confused by her switch in volume.

  “This place is beautiful and I appreciate the thought, but we can't stay here. You can't stay,” she blurted, waving frantically toward the wall of windows.

  He stared at her for a moment before understanding the cause of her dismay. “Oh, you're concerned about my reaction to sunlight.”

  “Well yeah,” she huffed.

  “Don't be.” He shook his head.

  “Why not? You told me that sunlight turns you into a crispy critter,” she reminded him nearly hysterical.

  “Not anymore,” he stated simply. She stared up at him confused, so he clarified. “There are pros and cons to drinking animal blood instead of human blood. A less dramatic reaction to sunlight is one of them. Sunlight is not much more than an irritation now. Not sure exactly why the difference, maybe it's a failsafe, a way of protecting humans from my kind. Besides, I can avoid this room during the day, if necessary. I should have told you, but I thought you noticed when I proposed.”

  She thought back to his proposal. It was early dawn, but the sun was indeed up, or else she wouldn't have been able to find her ring.

  “I appreciate your concern,” he placed his hand on the side of her face. She placed a hand on top of his and closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. He leaned down to kiss her before pulling away “There is much more to see,” he gestured back to the living area.

  The wall of windows and its spectacular view was so enticing, she had paid little attention to the rest of the room, except for the initial glimpse. The living room was decorated mostly in white, with deep red accents. The end tables and coffee table were stained cherry. She walked over and sat on the white leather couch when she noticed a strikingly similar bouquet of flowers in a vase on the coffee table. She turned to him after he joined her on the couch. “Is that my bouquet from the wedding?” She asked, reaching out and touching a rose petal. He nodded. “How?”

  “I can be rather speedy when necessary.” He grinned proudly. “I grabbed a few things from the car and ran them up here before I retrieved you.”

  “Wow.” She frowned, trying to comprehend his feat without her knowledge. “Did you use the elevator?”

  “No, I took the stairs. The elevator would have taken too long.”

  “Weren't you out of breath?”

  “I don't have to breathe. I only do so out of habit. I'm not human anymore, remember,” he bowed his head as he reminded her of this unfortunate truth. “I do try to act as though I am for both of us,” he added sadly.

  She felt a twinge of worry; there was still so much she didn't know about him.

  Stop it, Megan. You love him and he loves you. Nothing else matters. You have the rest of your life to learn everything about one another.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry. I didn't forget, but you are just Dorian to me. I don't see you as human or otherwise.”

  He raised his head and looked at her with a smile. “Enough of this, we are supposed to be celebrating.”

  She returned his smile. “Of course. One question though, how did you do all this?” She motioned around the room with her free hand.

  His smile widened. “Well, while you and Josie were off doing your own preparations, I was doing my own. Knowing only a little about weddings and nothing about honeymoons, I headed to a library. There may be a lot I don't know about, but I know books. I read all I could find on both subjects, then I set out to orchestrate the best honeymoon, my time crunch would allow. I wanted to make up for our simple wedding as much as I could. I know it wasn't what you always dreamed it would be,” he finished, his smile fading.

  “Our wedding was perfect,” she insisted.

  He raised his brow. “Really?”

  “Okay, it wasn't exactly what I had dreamed of,” she admitted reluctantly.

  He placed his hand on top of hers, still on his shoulder. “Exactly, and I'm sorry about that. In my rush to marry you, I forgot about what you were missing.”

  “It's not a big deal,” She shook her head.

  “It is too me. I want everything to be perfect for my angel,” he gushed, squeezing her hand gently. “Now, if you would accompany me into the kitchen, Mrs. Murphy, I have another surprise.” Taking her hand from his shoulder and into his, he led her into the kitchen.

  There, she found a three tier, white wedding cake. Each layer had a royal blue ribbon and a string of pearls wrapped around it. White and blue fondant hearts dotted each layer. At the top stood a brown haired groom and red haired bride tenderly embracing, leaning in for their first kiss as husband and wife. To the left of the cake lay royal blue napkins with Mr. and Mrs. Murphy printed in silver. To the right, sat a bottle of champagne and his and hers engraved wineglasses, DMM and MMM. Awestruck by the room, the cake, and the glasses, she turned a complete three hundred sixty degrees. He had done so much. Unable to contain her enthusiasm, she leaped onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist.

  He took a step back to balance himself then wrapped his arms around her waist. “I take it you’re pleased,” he uttered before she pressed her lips to his.

  After a few moments of passionate kissing she answered, “Definitely. I have no idea how you managed all this, but I am more than pleased.”

  “Do you remember the safe I stole from Thomas?” He asked as he gingerly removed his bride from his front. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but if he intended on continuing with the pomp and circumstance, she needed to be farther away from him. Her enthusiasm had already spread farther down his body than he would have liked at the moment. She nodded, seemingly unbothered by her removal. “There was quite a bit of cash inside. Now, there is much less.” He smiled slyly. “People become highly motivated when paid well. I tried to include all the things that were missing from our ceremony, the cake, the champagne...” He pulled a royal blue garter from his pocket, “the garter.” He twirled the lacy item around his finger a few times before tucking it back into his pocket. “We'll save that for later,” he added with a flirty grin.

  She felt her face light up, so she turned her attention to the spread on the table. Admiring the lovely display with ample amounts of royal blue, she asked, “How did you know about royal blue? I don't remember mentioning it was my favorite color.”

  “You have mentioned it many times, just not to me. I learned a great deal about you, from my time as a creepy stalker,” he joked, making her laugh. “Now should we have cake or champagne first?”

  “Champagne,” she exclaimed, though the cake looked delicious. She hoped a little liquid courage would calm her nerves.

  “Champagne it is.” He responded, grabbing the bottle out of its ice bucket. “Do you know how to open this?” He asked as he inspected the foil-wrapped rim of the bottle.

  “Not exactly,” she shrugged. “I know you have to remove the cork that is underneath the foil,” she instructed, pointing to the same spot he inspected.

  He held the bottle slightly turned away from them and removed the foil exposing the wire frame and cork.

  “Don't aim it at the windows!” She shouted.

  While removing the wire frame, he asserted, “I'm sure those windows are strong enough to be undamaged by this tiny cork.” Just as he uttered the word cork, it shot from the end of the bottle and straight at the window. They stood staring, mouths open, half expecting the window to break and suck them both out. When none of that happened, he inhaled a deep breath and laughed, “Told ya!”

  After inhaling her own deep breath of relief, she punched his arm.

  “Hey!” He rubbed his arm with his free hand merely for show.

  “I saw your face, mister. You were just as worried as me,” she scolded before finally laughing too.

  “True,” he admitted as he filled the engraved glasses with the remainder of the champagne. Most had been spilled during the uncorking and his punishment. “Now, I believe it's traditional to intertwine our arms,” he added, han
ding Megan her glass.

  “Yes, I believe so.” She smiled.

  Both struggled not to laugh as they attempted to intertwine their arms with as little spilling as possible. Looking into her eyes, he toasted, “To us.”

  “To us.”

  After the initial sip and unwinding, she downed the rest. He smiled as he placed her empty glass on the table beside his half full one. He refrained from drinking more than a few sips. He had become quite the lush during his time with Thomas, and though the effects were short lasting, he didn't want to go down that path again. He wanted his feet to remain firmly on the righteous path she had led him to.

  She observed his half full glass sitting next to her empty one. “We have the same middle initial,” she noted the middle letter on the glass as she picked up Dorian's glass to finish it.

  “Uh, huh,” he muttered, his smile gone.

  “What does the M stand for? It's not Marie is it?” She teased.

  “Nope,” he replied, though his middle name wasn't much better.

  She waited a few moments for him to answer. “Hey, I told you my middle name.” She barked, her free hand on her hip.

  “Fine, but you can't laugh,” he instructed. “My middle name is Moses.”

  “Really?” She laughed, dribbling champagne down her chin.

  “Yes,” his smile returned despite his embarrassment, thanks to her accident. “I guess father saw similarities in our discoveries.”

  “I like it,” she smiled, wiping her chin before drinking the remainder of the champagne left in his glass.

  “Sure you do,” he jeered.

  “Now cake,” she suggested with a slight slur, the champagne affecting her quicker than she thought.

  Still smiling, he removed the bride and groom from the top of the cake.

  “Can't let good icing go to waste.” She grabbed the figurines out of his hand.

  Watching her tongue strip away the icing induced a premature reaction in him. He took in a few lust cleansing breaths. There were still a few more romantic elements he wanted to execute.

  “What?” Megan inquired to his intense staring.

  “Nothing,” he replied, turning his attention safely back to the cake.

  “Uh huh,” she said, obvious in her voice. She nearly laughed when he turned more as she moved closer. The alcohol definitely induced the desired effect.

  He focused on cutting the cake but her proximity made that difficult and did nothing to relieve his earlier response. He considered pulling her close, kissing her passionately and skipping straight to the bedroom, but he refrained. Patience is a virtue, often rewarding those who practice it. “Another tradition, I believe, is to feed one another cake as messily as possible,” he grinned as he handed a slice of cake to her and retained one for himself.

  “I believe you're right,” she giggled.

  “Same time?” he asked.

  Both stood still, plates in hand, hesitant to smear cake in each other’s face. “On three,” he suggested, sensing the standoff. “One, two, th...” The end of three was muffled by a face full of cake. He managed his turn before staggering back into one of the table chairs. Laughing uncontrollably, he barely managed to clean his face with a handful of monogrammed napkins.

  Megan had her own difficulties; his aim had been severely compromised by her jumping the gun. Most of the cake ended up on her chin and neck. “Guess you meant after three,” she laughed.

  “Obviously,” he quipped. In a split second, he grabbed her at the waist, spinning and pulling her down onto his lap. “You missed a spot.” He pointed to her neck. “Let me get that for you,” he added before drawing his tongue across the side of her neck.

  “Thanks,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “My pleasure,” he uttered huskily, tracing his lips with the tip of his tongue.

  She chewed on her bottom lip, and then slowly closed her eyes, as he leaned in. Suddenly, however, she was placed on her feet again instead of receiving her expected kiss.

  “One more tradition,” he announced, grateful this back and forth teasing would soon be put to bed. His body was a confused mass of reactions.

  “Okay,” Megan sighed, unsatisfied.

  He released her waist and took her hand, leading her back to the wall of windows. “Now it’s time for our first dance as husband and wife. I listened to many beautiful love songs, hoping to find one that came close to expressing how I feel about you. This song comes as close as possible to expressing my love for you.” He removed his fingers from hers temporarily to press the play button on a CD player she hadn’t noticed earlier. The intro to the song, “Truly, Madly, Deeply” by Savage Garden began to play as he wrapped his arm around her waist and she placed her hand on his shoulder. Their free hands interloped.

  They danced in silence, the city lights blurred as their bodies swayed to the rhythm of their love song. The mimicked their desire to be whatever the other needed. As the last note faded, she looked up at him, smiling through tear filled eyes. “I never thought anyone would feel the way that song describes, much less think it's not enough. I'm not sure I deserve you.”

  He placed his hands on the sides of her face, looking her in the eyes. “You don't, but I'm so grateful you'll have me.” At his words, she let her tears fall. “Those are tears of joy?” He asked hopefully.

  “Yes. Most definitely,” she smiled, still staring into her husband's eyes.

  “Then my work is done. Shall we retire to the bedroom?”

  Megan nodded.

  Chapter 20

  Forever

  The bedroom was decorated in the same motif as the rest of the suite. A four poster cherry wood bed graced the center of the room, covered in white satin sheets. Two towel swans sat in the center of the bed, a heart made from rose petals encircling them. Their elegant long necks stretched out to meet in a kiss. Completing the room were matching nightstands on both sides of the bed, a matching dresser and mirror set against the left wall. Two sets of doors occupied the right wall as the closet and bathroom.

  It provided the perfect backdrop for their first night together, but she couldn't shake the feeling something was missing. “Where's the box Josie got me? She told me to open it on my wedding night?” She asked, panic in her voice.

  “It's on one of the end tables in the living room.”

  “You've thought of everything,” she beamed, kissing Dorian on the cheek.

  “I tried,” he smiled.

  “I should probably open it.” She had a feeling she knew what it held inside.

  “Okay. I'll go get it for you.”

  She remained in the bedroom while he retrieved her present. She ran her hand along the edge of the king sized bed. The satin tickled her fingertips. She imagined her naked body pressed against his, the sheets gliding over her as he penetrated. The shutting of the door pulled her from her fantasy. She released the fistful of sheets, smoothing them out.

  “Here you go.” He offered her the box.

  “Thanks. I'm just going to open this and freshen up.” She blurted, accepting the package and rushing to the bathroom.

  “Wait, you might need this.” He pulled the lacy blue garter from his pocket, a mix of teasing and delight in his voice.

  She huffed under her breath. She needed a moment to compose herself. Returning to where he stood, she smiled then yanked the garter from his hands as he twirled it around his finger. “Thanks,” she blurted again and continued with her original plans.

  She sat the box on the back of the toilet and gripped the pedestal sink. She inhaled a few fantasy cleansing breaths. She was so nervous, the butterflies in her stomach were doing gymnastics. The explicit vision didn't help either. No, now, she was aroused, but just as nervous, maybe even more. She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked the same as she did at her wedding, minus the dress. Her hair was still in its up-do, and her makeup still flawless, except for lipstick that had long been kissed off.

  Why are you so nervous?


  She knew if she spoke aloud, even in a whisper, Dorian would hear her.

  You just married a man who practically thinks you're a gift from God, an angel, who tells you you're more beautiful each time he lays eyes on you. Neither one of you has any experience in the bedroom. So suck it up, girl. Go out there and enjoy yourself. It's not necessary to get it perfect the first time; you have the rest of your life to perfect the act.

  Having reassured herself, at least temporarily, she grabbed Josie's gift. Having a good idea of what was inside, she hoped it wouldn’t be too risky or she'd have to give herself another pep talk. She carefully removed the wrapping, again intent on saving it as a memento. She lifted the lid of the box. Inside, on top of tissue paper, lay a note.

  Congratulations! You are now a married woman. Dorian is one hell of a lucky man. In this box you'll find a 'little' something special to wear on your wedding night, it's guaranteed to knock Dorian's socks off. FYI, it’s white and lacy. The other items are for later, as they will likely knock more than his socks off. Start off slow, don’t want to give the poor guy a heart attack. Now go rock Dorian's world.

  She smiled as she placed the note in the lid of the box. She had been right about it containing lingerie. She pulled back the tissue paper and removed a white, baby doll nightgown, donning it swiftly before her nervousness could return. It was sexy, yet elegant. The lace halter top plunged low to the empire waist. The sheer skirt hit her upper thigh, revealing the matching white G-string. Her hair cascaded down around her shoulders as she released it from its bun.

  She stared at herself again in the mirror, this time, with confidence. She felt sexy. The nightgown hugged her delicate curves perfectly; the lace halter top exposing just enough of her breasts to entice. She struck her best sexy pose, one arm stretched up, grasping the door frame, the other at her waist. She smiled, sure she had the goods to drive him crazy. She let a giggle escape her throat, amused over this new confidence.

  Whoa, there cowgirl. Don't want to give him a heart attack.

  She echoed Josie’s words from the note.