Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)

by S. L. Jennings

  “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Dorian murmurs. Seriously? Is he fucking with me?

  “Dorian, I don’t know what you think you may know about me, but let’s get one thing straight.” I push my plate forward, indicating that I’m done with my food and Dorian’s snide remarks. “I am who I am. And what I choose to disclose to my friends is my business. And if and when I withhold information, it has nothing to do with my comfort. It’s for their protection.

  “The people in my life are not disposable, Dorian; they are everything to me. And like it or not, you’re one of those people. I’m not here with you because I am running from my feelings for Jared. If I wanted to be with him, I’d be with him. I’m here with you because I want to be. I actually have feelings for you. Sorry but sometimes my vagina and my heart meet on common ground. But don’t worry; I’m used to disappointment. I get that this is just about sex. Just two consensual adults having fun, right?”

  Dorian gently pats his mouth with his napkin and sets it on the table. He puts down his silverware and pushes his plate away as well. “Gabriella, you think I feel you view me as some consolation prize? Like an alternative to what could have been with your childhood crush? It’s completely the opposite. You are just now living. And you are experiencing this new life with me. I could not be more honored.

  “I see you for who and what you are, Gabriella. And what I see is truly beautiful. You try like hell to mask the truth with this asinine tough girl act but I see right through you. Dammit! I see you. You can’t fool me. I know I could never compete with what you have with Jared and I don’t want to. I just want you. I just want to be here. I just want to be where ever you are. Why can’t you see that? Why are you so afraid to feel?”

  Dorian looks to me for reaction, and all I can think about is how the hell I am going to swallow down the massive knot in my throat. My eyes are wide and unblinking, because if I blink, fat, salty tears will roll down my flush cheeks. The rapid rise and fall of my chest does nothing to conceal the wave of emotion that threatens to drown me here at this table.

  “Um, Dorian, um, I’m sorry, I have to go,” I croak, scurrying out of my seat just as the first tear escapes from my eye. I can vaguely hear him calling my name as I make my way to the door, throwing myself into the pouring rain.

  I dive under the restaurant’s awning in an attempt to stay somewhat dry as tears stream down my face. Seconds later, Dorian appears, furiously searching for me, expecting me to have run away in the torrential downpour. He’s instantly relieved when he sees me leaning against the storefront window, a bumbling mess of sobs.

  Dorian hurries to my side, ignoring the rain, and wraps his arms around me tightly. He pulls my face into his chest with no regard for my tear-streaked mascara. He comforts me. After I basically told him to stay out of my business and that I was in love with another man, he comforts me.

  “I’m so sorry, Dorian,” I sob heavily. I try to get myself under control but my efforts are futile. “I am such a fucking mess! I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m so sorry!”

  “Shhhh. Hush, little girl. It’s ok, baby,” Dorian whispers into my hair. “Let me make you better.”

  I lift my tear-stained face to meet his, trying to understand exactly what he means. Dorian nods reassuringly and kisses my forehead chastely. He then cradles my face and his azure irises transform into ice blue, almost clear, as he lets them fuse into my hazel eyes. The familiar tingles begin and soon I feel nothing. I hear nothing. I see nothing. But darkness.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  It’s pitch-black and I am unsure of where I am. My body is stiff as if I have been lying in the same position for hours. I sit up and try to feel around. The familiar satin comforter indicates that I am in Dorian’s bed. But where is he? And how did I get here?

  Light floods the room and I am momentarily blinded. I raise my hands to shield my eyes, letting them adjust. Once they’ve adapted, I see that Dorian is there with a glass of water.

  “Sorry,” he says, walking towards me. “I knew you’d be up soon.” He sets the glass of water on the nightstand and sits on the bed next to me.

  “How long have I been asleep?” I ask groggily. I reach for the glass of water and take a long sip. “And how did I get here?” The last thing I remember is crying outside of the restaurant in the rain and Dorian comforting me. Crap.

  “You were exhausted so I brought you here and put you to bed. You slept for a few hours,” He strokes my wild hair and gives me a cautious grin.

  “You’re wet,” I say observing Dorian’s damp shirt and slick, dripping hair.

  “I went for a walk while you were asleep.”

  “In the freezing rain?” I ask skeptically.

  Dorian shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me.” He strokes my cheek admiringly and I notice how weary he looks. It appears as if he’s aged while I was sleeping. “Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much at lunch.”

  The somber memory causes a dull ache in my chest. “No, I’m fine. Dorian, please don’t tell me you’ve been sitting around here waiting for me to wake up.” I look out through the bedroom’s window, out into the darkness. I’ve slept the entire day away.

  Dorian shrugs. “It’s ok. I got some work done. Seeing as I played hooky today. And like I said, I went for a walk.”

  It’s hard not to feel responsible for Dorian’s dreary appearance. Just hours before he was so vital, so carefree, even in spite of my less than gracious attitude. And now he sits before me, apprehension etched into his hallow eyes. They still sparkle yet they’ve dulled in intensity. His skin looks pale and ashen.

  “Come,” I say, pulling him down into the bed with me. “You look like you could rest. I think walking outside in the rain has made you sick.”

  Dorian shakes his head but doesn’t resist when I pull him under the covers and into my arms. He rests his head on my breast, nestling his nose into me and inhaling deeply. Tension rolls off his shoulders when he releases the breath.

  “I’ll be ok soon,” he murmurs with closed eyes.

  I feel horrible for my outburst. I must’ve wounded Dorian, leaving him to wallow for hours while I slept it off. How could I be so callous when all he gave me was complete honesty? I asked for it. Knowing that I am so transparent is unsettling, but that’s not his fault. He could have abandoned me today, yet he brought me here to care for me. What kind of man would do that after learning that my heart is torn between him and another guy?

  “Dorian, I’m so sorry about earlier. You have been so good to me. You didn’t deserve that.” I stroke his cold, damp hair. I wish I could just pour all my warmth into him and heat him from the inside out.

  “Are you feeling better?” he mutters into the fabric of my shirt.

  “I am. Thank you. I’m more worried about you though,” I say soothingly. My voice comes out in a silky soprano, nothing like my usual raspy tone.

  “Don’t be. Being here with you is enough,” Dorian breathes.

  “Why do you say that? Why do you think so much of me?”

  Dorian lifts his head to meet my questioning gaze. The dark circles around his eyes have begun to fade and his beautiful olive complexion is returning. His crystal blues twinkle brightly.

  “Why wouldn’t I? You are unlike anyone, any woman, I have ever met. And sorry to say, I’ve met a lot of women,” he snickers. Good to see his sense of humor has been restored as well. I smile back at him. “No one has ever moved me like you, Gabriella. I’ve never been so affected.”

  “I could say the same about you,” I whisper.

  “That’s why I want you around at all times. I like the way you make me feel. I need it.” His words are desperate yet I understand that type of desperation. I feel it too- the magnetic pull to him. It’s so much more than sexual attraction. It is what sustains us.

  I am suddenly filled with restless energy, and get the urge to care for Dorian as he has done for me. He deserves that much. “Come on. Let’s get you out of those wet c
lothes.”

  I flip the comforter off of us and shimmy out from under him. Then I leap off the bed and bound to the bathroom. The giant garden tub looks as if Dorian has never used it, opting for the large standing shower instead. The complimentary gift basket still sits by the faucet, filled with an assortment of bath time goodies. After choosing a combination of lavender oil, chamomile scented bath salts and floral scented bubble bath, I begin to fill the tub with hot water. When I turn back around, Dorian is standing in the doorway, stock-still, watching me intently.

  I jump in surprise, clutching my chest. “Geez, Dorian, you scared me!”

  “Did I?” he smirks. He enjoys seeing me ruffled. He looks like his old self again- magnificently beautiful and composed.

  I close the few feet between us and run my hands up his hard chest. “Here, let me.”

  I grab the bottom hem of his long sleeve shirt and pull it up. Dorian lifts his arms to aid my efforts. His chest is splendid- hard, defined cuts of muscle under smooth tan skin. The only mark is the tattoo on his side. I lean forward and place a gentle kiss on his chest. He feels so warm under my lips. I continue with a trail from his soft nipples to the ink etched into his flesh. He gasps in surprise and I look up to meet his stunned eyes then give him a sly smile. I let my hands roam the taut mounds of his shoulders and down his arms. I intertwine my fingers with his and search his face for a sign of acceptance. Holding his hand- such a simple gesture that holds so much weight. Dorian lightly squeezes my fingers between his own in response.

  Reluctantly, I pull my hands from his to turn the water off before it overflows. I return to Dorian eagerly, reaching for the fly of his jeans. Once they’re undone, they crumple to the ground, exposing his black fitted boxer briefs. I see the large swell in the front of them and caress it with the feather-light tips of my fingernails. I can feel it pulsing subtly with vigor and strength. Dorian’s breathing is shallow and ragged. The gentle touches are arousing him, and when I push down his underwear, his manhood springs to life. Dorian takes the liberty of stepping out of his jeans and removing his socks while I admire his impressive length.

  “Like what you see?” Dorian smirks.

  I smile and shake my head. “You are so crass, you know that?”

  Dorian chuckles and runs his hand through his damp, tousled hair. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.” He reaches for the hem of my shirt and gently yanks it over my head. “My turn,” he teases.

  Dorian’s eyes dance with excitement at the sight of my modest white lace bra. It’s such a contrast from the black see-through chemise I donned just last night. Instead of unfastening it, his hands move down to the button of my jeans, which he slides down with ease. I stand before him, clad in my angelic white panties and bra letting Dorian absorb the sight.

  He swallows hard. “You look so…pure. And good. So beautiful,” he mutters caressing the soft lace of the bodice.

  “Don’t like the racy black number?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “Oh, I like it. Very much. But I like this too. Reminds me of the good girl I wanted to ruin when I first saw you.” Dorian licks his lips at the memory.

  “What makes you think I was a good girl?” I run my hands up and down his bare chest. His hardness rubs against my stomach.

  “Well, you aren’t a bad one.” His hands cup the full roundness of my breasts. My nipples throb with delight.

  “Can’t I be a little of both?” I say sweetly. I bite my bottom lip, my eyes the color of hot liquid amber.

  Dorian’s ice blue eyes meet mine. There’s wonder and anxiety behind them. He blinks it away quickly, breaking eye contact and reaching around to undo the clasp of my bra. Once my breasts are free from their lacey imprisonment, he bends down to bathe them with his tongue. I moan gratefully. He flicks one nipple with the tip of his tongue before moving to the other to do the same. My nerve endings sing with sheer glee.

  “If you’re not careful, our water will get cold,” I say breathlessly. Dorian brings his head up reluctantly and then reaches down to relinquish me of my panties. I step out of them and grab his hand, leading him into the grand bathtub.

  We sit facing each other, suds enrapturing us in white froth. So many unspoken words between us, yet neither of us can articulate what is on our minds. The questions are rhetorical; we know the answers in our hearts. But this dream, where we are just an ordinary couple in an ordinary world is so much better than our reality. We’re not ready to wake up. Though we know this dream will eventually manifest into a nightmare.

  “You don’t look 25,” I say thoughtfully.

  “Oh? How old do I look?” Dorian is humoring me, a willing participant in my dangerous game.

  “Maybe 28. No older than 30. You’re too mature, too certain of yourself for 25.”

  “Is that right?” Dorian takes a handful of warm water and lets it trickle down onto my shoulder.

  “And you’re way too successful. Do you even know any 25 year olds? Most of them don’t own salons and luxury apartment complexes.”

  “But 28 year olds do?” Dorian says with a sexy half-smile.

  “I don’t know,” I shrug. Keep him talking, I think to myself. I bite the bullet and formulate my next question. “The eye thing… What is that? Hypnotism?”

  Dorian strokes my erect nipples with his thumbs. I sigh at the contact. He leans forward and kisses the base of my throat. “Something like that,” he murmurs into my neck.

  “And you can do that to me whenever you want?” I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of his lips and fingers.

  “As long as you’re open to me. Which can be difficult when you’re being so guarded.” Dorian’s lips travel to my jaw. He pulls me towards him, sloshing water onto the bathroom floor. I place my legs around his hips.

  “Must be pretty tricky stuff. How could one learn something like that? Is there an online class? A manual? Eye-fuckery for Dummies?” I chuckle. I lean forward and let my lips taste his chest once again. His skin smells fresh and exotic. Like crystal clear waters off a tropical island.

  “Nothing to learn. You’re already a natural.” Dorian pulls me closer into him, grasping my ass and scooting me to meet his hardness. I wrap my legs around his waist.

  “How do you know that?” I ask nuzzling his neck. My submerged lower half begins a slow grind.

  “Because you’ve done it to me. Last night,” Dorian states plainly as if we’re discussing the weather. He gently sucks my earlobe, gripping my behind and following my rhythm.

  “I did?” I ask, shock resonating in my voice but not halting my carnal dance. It feels too good.

  “Yes. It was the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced. But as much as I enjoyed it, you shouldn’t do it again.” Dorian’s own hips rise and fall, causing incredible friction. “You’re not ready. It takes too much out of you. Hence, your breakdown earlier.”

  “But you fixed me.”

  I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling a bit. Dorian gasps as I tug his disheveled locks. “I did. But not without consequence. You drain me.” He nibbles my neck, letting his teeth graze it. Then he gently bites down.

  “Mmmm, Dorian,” I breathe. “Let me make you better then.”

  “You do, baby. Just touching you. Smelling you. Kissing you.”

  Dorian then lifts me and eases me onto his hard thickness. I gasp at the feeling of absolute, perfect fullness. “Feeling you,” he breathes.

  For the next thirty minutes, Dorian and I fix each other. All the shattered pieces of our charades scattered on the bathroom floor, creating a mosaic of pain, lust, deceit, passion, fear. And love. Piece by piece we pick up the shards, trying to recover just a fragment of who we once were. But what is broken can never be as it was; it will never be the same. So we create a new portrait of ourselves and let our secrets become the glue that holds us together. Because if we admit the depths of our depravity, we can never turn back. We won’t be able to pretend anymore. He will know me, and I will know him. And that’s ju
st a risk neither of us are willing to take.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “So you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

  We’re riding in Dorian’s lavish Mercedes, windows down, music blasting from the speakers. It’s a gorgeous day- a total 180 from yesterday’s depressing dreariness. We were even able to enjoy our breakfast of waffles topped with fresh berries out on the balcony, letting the sunshine kiss the tops of our heads.

  “Nope,” Dorian says from the driver’s seat. His dark shades and black V-neck tee make him look every bit like the sexy bad boy I imagined him to be. All that’s missing is a Harley. “You’ll have to wait and see.” He smirks, obviously pleased with himself for making me squirm with excitement.

  “Oh, come on! I’m curious!” I giggle. I’m in high spirits today. How can I not be? After our little game in the bathtub followed by mind-blowing water sex, I got to wake up to the most fascinating, gorgeous man alive. I'd be a fool to take that for granted.

  “Careful, little girl. Curiosity killed the cat.” Dorian looks over and flashes his devilish grin.

  “Oh, it’ll take a whole lot more to kill me,” I say darkly, biting my bottom lip.

  Dorian smiles and shakes his head, returning his eyes to the road. “Is that a challenge?”

  “Nope. It’s a fact,” I say simply.

  “Well in that case, I better hurry up and get you to our destination.”

  With that, Dorian hits the gas, causing the car to lurch forward. He weaves in and out of traffic with incredible ease with no regard for speed limits or fear of traffic cops. Every light turns green as we approach and I look on with astonished wide eyes. I know I should be afraid but the speed is absolutely exhilarating. Before I know it, we are whipping into the parking lot of Palmer Park, already crowded with cars and people.

  “Palmer Park?” I say looking at Dorian questioningly.