Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)

by S. L. Jennings

  “There’s a music festival going on. Thought you might like it.”

  Dorian pulls into a parking spot and turns to take in my somber expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just surprised.” I try to shake the creeping anxiety from my head and plaster on a smile. “I heard about this.”

  Dorian leans over to plant a soft kiss on my forehead before exiting the car and coming over to open my door. Always the perfect gentleman. He grabs my hand and leads me into the park, and for a moment I feel like we are just a normal couple, doing what normal couples do. We stroll along the park grounds for the better part of the day, listening to the various live bands, eating junk food and drinking beer. I’ve brought my little digital camera, and we take turns snapping candid shots, even taking a few silly ones of ourselves. It’s nice. I feel safe and carefree with Dorian, and it seems he has let himself unwind and relax too.

  “Gabs?” a familiar voice calls out to me as Dorian and I are making our way back to his car hand in hand. Shit.

  I quickly drop Dorian’s hand and turn around to face my dearest friend. “Jared. Hey. Um, what’s up?” I stammer.

  “Looks like you didn’t have to work after all,” Jared remarks stiffly. He looks to Dorian and gives him a nod. “Hey, man. Jared,” he says extending his hand.

  Dorian receives Jared’s outstretched palm and shakes. I feel my stomach tie itself into a thousand knots. “Nice to meet you. Dorian.”

  “So this,” Jared says gesturing between Dorian and me, “is a thing? You didn’t tell me you were dating somebody.”

  “Hey, baby, I’m going to get the car. You two catch up,” Dorian murmurs to me. “Jared. Good to meet you.” Then he leaves me alone to face my friend and former love interest.

  “Wow, Gabs. You work fast. And here I thought things were too complicated in your life for you to get involved with anybody. Must’ve gotten them straightened out,” Jared smirks.

  “Look, Jared, it’s not like that,” I try to explain.

  “Really? Because it sure as hell looks like that.” Jared shakes his head and grits his teeth with contempt. “The creepy guy from the club, Gabs? Really? So how long has this been going on? For the past few weeks? And you let me play myself like a fucking fool?”

  “Calm down. Like I said, it’s not even like that. And he’s not creepy. We’re just hanging out, that’s all.” I know if I explained everything to Jared, he’d understand. But this situation has totally caught me off guard. I can’t get my thoughts together and seeing Jared so angry at me doesn’t make it any better.

  “It’s cool, Gabs. Whatever. Do what you have to do. I guess that night in my car didn’t mean shit to you. That the past 6 years didn’t mean enough for you to be honest with me.”

  Jared looks away, trying to reel in his anger, his jaw tight with ire. “But just tell me, did you ever really care for me? Or was I just convenient at the time?” A mixture of pain and rejection washes over his face and my heart aches for him. I reach my hand out for him but he instantly recoils, taking a step back. “Just answer my fucking question!”

  “Yes, Jared. I did. I do. But it’s complicated.” Shit! This would be so much easier if I could just be honest with him!

  “Complicated.” Jared again looks away then brings his green eyes back to me. “Do you love him?” he asks quietly.

  “What?” I try to swallow down the regret and remorse clutching my chest. I need to be honest with him. I need to be honest with myself. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “So I guess it’s not too complicated, then, huh? You know what, it’s fine, Gabs. You go be happy with him. Let him pick up the pieces the next time you fall apart. It’s fine. I don’t need you.”

  Jared turns and stalks away angrily. Only then do I notice Miguel, James, and few other guys watching the scene a few yards away. I can’t bring myself to chase after or even call out to him. Humiliation has consumed me. I simply turn and seek the refuge of Dorian’s waiting Mercedes.

  “Are you ok?” Dorian finally asks after several minutes of silence. We’re on our way back to the Broadmoor, the sun setting on the horizon, casting gorgeous pinks and oranges across the sky. Unfortunately, I’m too rattled to enjoy it.

  “I will be. Just a bad situation. Something I’ll have to get used to.” I look out the window, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” Dorian mutters.

  I whip my head around to look at Dorian incredulously. What could he possibly be sorry about? “Are you?”

  Dorian slowly nods. “I am.”

  “Does it get any easier?” I whisper softly, though I know Dorian will hear me.

  His hands tighten on the steering wheel, as if his own painful memory has come to haunt him. “No,” he replies, tight-lipped. I don’t dare to ask him anymore. I don’t want to hear any more truths.

  Once we are in the comfort of Dorian’s luxurious suite, I head straight to the bar. I take two crystal glasses and fill them halfway with the brown liquor in the decanter. I’m guessing it’s scotch but at this point, I’m not picky. I take a sip from one of the glasses and then hand it to Dorian, as he did with me before my little striptease.

  “Let’s get drunk,” I state, clinking my glass with his.

  “Sure you want to do that?” Dorian says with a raised eyebrow. He gives me that look a lot, probably because of all my questionable behavior.

  “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” I say with a cynical chuckle. “But I know I’m tired of disappointment. And I’m tired of keeping secrets. And I’m tired of fucking things up!”

  Dorian nods, understanding my frustration. “Do you want me to help you?” he asks quietly. I know what he means. Dorian is offering to fix me like he did the day before.

  “No,” I shake my head. “I want you to drink with me. Then I want you to do things to me that are as dirty and immoral as I already feel.” I take another hefty gulp and let the searing burn strip away the guilt and shame in my chest.

  “Ok, let’s get drunk.” And with that Dorian downs the entire contents of his glass and turns on the music.

  It’s late, and Dorian and I have finished the scotch and have decided to order up a few beers. I’ve accomplished my mission; I am completely wasted and dancing on the coffee table. I’ve scrapped my jeans and am gyrating my hips in only a snug tee and my new teal lace hip-hugging panties. Dorian is seated on the couch, bare-chested, watching the show with sinister, hooded eyes.

  “Come join me,” I slur, beckoning Dorian with my index finger.

  “Why don’t you come down here?” he says licking his lips.

  “Mmmm, I think I will.” I clumsily jump off the coffee table and stumble onto Dorian’s lap, laughing hysterically.

  “I think it’s safe to say you are drunk, little girl,” he snickers.

  “Mmmm hmmm.” My head is rolling around as if my neck can’t support it. Dorian moves my tousled hair out of my face. “Why do you call me that, Dorian? Why do you call me a little girl?” My eyes are barely open and I’m wearing a lazy grin.

  “Because you are,” he states simply.

  “No, I’m not! Little girls are babies. They’re delicate and helpless.”

  “So are you.” Dorian places my head on his chest. The rhythm of his beating heart is so soothing, almost melodic.

  “I’m not helpless! You can’t hurt me!” I laugh.

  “Yes, I can.” Dorian’s fingers gently stroke my mussed waves.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” I ask meekly. Something in his tone sobers me a fraction.

  Dorian looks down at me with cold, menacing eyes. “Yes.”

  “Can you do it right now? Can you hurt me?” I challenge him.

  “Is that what you want?”

  I muster the last bits of my coherency and meet Dorian’s solemn gaze. “Yes,” I breathe earnestly without hesitation.

  Before I can utter another slurred word, Dorian lifts me up and slings me over his shoulder like a rag dol
l. Once my lace clad bottom is in the air, he smacks it. Hard. I gasp at the sting. He’s walking swiftly, making my dizzy head spin even faster. When I see we are in the master bedroom, Dorian literally throws me onto the bed. He snatches my panties off, effortlessly ripping them to shreds and my thin t-shirt is the next to go. His face is ferocious, calculated and menacing as he fingers my floral satin bra.

  “Do it,” I urge, panting wildly.

  I look up at Dorian’s smoldering expression. His eyes burn blue fire, full of darkness, rage, and desire. He moves his fingers to the front clasp, brushing it gently. Then in one quick movement, faster than I can see, he pops it, yanking it off me fiercely.

  “You want me to hurt you?” he hisses between gritted teeth.

  “Yes,” I beg, my chest heaving wildly with labored breaths. I want this. I need this.

  Dorian grips my ankle and suddenly flips me over onto my stomach. I hear the familiar sounds of his zipper and the crumpling of his pants. Then a sharp pain rips through my scalp. I cry out in surprise. Dorian has gripped my hair and is pulling my head back, causing me to get on my knees to ease the strain. He positions my ass so it’s aligned with his rock hard erection, giving it another hard smack. I cry out once more, this time letting it develop into a throaty groan. There is pleasure in this pain.

  Dorian yanks my hair again, and my head bucks back, exposing my throat. I can’t move my head; his hold is so tight. Before I can dwell on it any further, he plunges into me without warning. He’s buried himself all the way in, not even giving me a chance to adjust to the fullness. My garbled cry is futile; he begins to relentlessly pound into me without an ounce of mercy. I yelp with every hard thrust, unable to move my neck to look back at him. I try to reach my hands back for him, but he quickly stops my pursuit with another stinging slap on my behind.

  Over and over he slams himself into me viciously. There is nothing tender or remorseful in him. The darkness in Dorian has returned and he is giving me just what I asked for. He is giving me pain. I hear a low groan escape his lips, almost like a growl. I know he is close, and he will have to take pity on me and end his assault. Somehow I feel it too- the familiar surge building inside me. My cries are not of agony. They are of pure ecstasy. I can’t stop it; I can’t not enjoy this. And before I can stop or even fight it, I give into it and let it drown me in deep, dark waters.

  The intensity of my downfall is enough to unravel Dorian. He deeply thrusts into me once more, and an angered, frustrated groan seeps between gritted teeth. He is pouring all the hurt and regret deep-seated within him into me. He is giving me all his pain. He is as tortured and fucked up as I am; he’s just mastered the art of disguising it.

  Dorian collapses on top of me, releasing my hair and allowing my knees to buckle under me. Our heavy labored breaths are the only sounds in the entire suite. Even the music has ended.

  Here we lay, two people so full of anger and grief that we are somehow anchored to one another. We need each other just so we can feel somewhat normal in a world that is not meant for us. Whether or not we can coexist is the question plaguing my foggy mind. I know I can ask him. I know I should ask him. But I also know that he’ll tell me the truth; he’ll tell me exactly who and what he is. He’ll no longer be the mystery I can’t solve. He’ll no longer be my Dorian. And now that Jared is out of my life, I need Dorian more than ever. And a part of me- the honest, vulnerable part that was once reserved only for Jared- is desperately hoping that Dorian needs me too. At least enough to ignore the growing suspicions, double entendres, and questioning glances.

  Sleep envelops me, halting the seeds of doubt and insecurity from growing in my inebriated mind. I dream in high definition. I’m tied between two sides. On one side is all that I love in this world: my parents, Morgan and Jared. They are the people that mean the most to me, the people I would gladly die for. I feel like all they do is give and give and all I do in return is disappoint them. Being tied to someone like me is not fair to them. I owe them everything- my love, devotion and protection. I just want to give them forever.

  The other side is shrouded in darkness. The cold vacant space is filled with a dense eerie fog. It’s difficult to see any sign of life in the icy mist. Yet, obscured within the shadows, I can make out familiar shapes. There is life lurking in the darkness. I don’t know what but I know it’s there. And then I see them.

  Eyes.

  Cold, desolate ice blue eyes. I only see one pair at first, but then there’s another. And another. Until it appears that dozens of menacing blue eyes are staring back at me, floating within the fog. Yet I am not afraid; I am intrigued.

  I see the makings of a tall masculine figure. He is surrounded by the ominous eyes, drowning in a sea of azure. Dorian. I want to call out to him. I want to save him from this dark isolation. But I cannot find my voice. I open my mouth to scream his name but no sound escapes me. So I go towards him slowly. I am unsure of this foreign territory but I must go to him. I must save him. His arms are outstretched; he needs me. I need him too. But my arms cannot reach him. The farther I go into the darkness, the farther he is from me. Soon I am consumed by it. I can no longer see my loved ones on the other side; can no longer hear their pleas to return to them. But I can’t turn back now; I need to get to Dorian. I must save him from this dark place.

  “Gabriella? Gabriella?” a cool voice whispers in my ear. I feel someone gently shaking me. I begin to stir, struggling to open my heavy eyelids. The light is too bright and I squint against it. “Gabriella, wake up, baby.” It’s Dorian! I have brought him back from the darkness!

  “Dorian,” I croak. My mouth is parched and feels grainy. It tastes terrible.

  “I’m here. Wake up, little girl,” he breathes into my ear. My eyes flutter open and I realize that it was only a dream. Dorian was never in the darkness, luring me from my family and friends. He was right here next to me.

  I try to sit up but my aching head feels like a ton of lead. Dorian eases me up by my shoulders and props me against a mound of fluffy pillows. “Here take these.” He hands me what looks to be pain medication and a glass of water. The cold liquid feels like heaven in my dry, cottony mouth. I down it all and lay back on the pillows.

  “What time is it?” The bright sunshine indicates that it’s at least late morning. Dorian is freshly showered and groomed, looking handsome as always in a cerulean blue tee and jeans. I must look like death.

  “About noon. I would have let you sleep longer but it sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

  “I’m ok.” I muster up the strength to sit up and swing my legs to the edge of the bed. I need to use the bathroom and wash this nasty taste out of my mouth. I shouldn’t subject Dorian to my ghastly breath any longer. The walk across the room to the bathroom is torture with every step but I suck it in. It’s self-inflicted; I wanted to get drunk and I got my wish. Now I must pay the piper.

  When I emerge from the bathroom, looking ten times better than when I entered, the aroma of fried food hits me, causing my queasy stomach to churn. I know I should eat since I didn’t have anything last night, but the threat of vomit makes me reluctant.

  “You need to eat something fatty and greasy. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it’ll make you feel a lot better,” Dorian says, taking in my repulsed expression. “I know from experience.”

  Dorian looks glorious. The beautiful cerulean blue of his shirt brings out his eyes even more. The effect is hypnotizing. I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him wear a bit of color. He’s always dressed in dark tones, and while they look incredibly sexy on him, the bright hue makes him seem youthful and vibrant.

  “You know, you should wear that color more often,” I remark, sitting down at the dining room table.

  Dorian has taken the liberty of ordering every hangover food possible from French fries to pepperoni pizza. I take a small slice and a bit of Lo Mein noodles. I don’t know how he managed to get Chinese food at the Broadmoor but he’s pulled it off.
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br />   Dorian looks down at his shirt and shrugs. “You think so?”

  “I do. Makes you look younger. And I like it when you haven’t shaved in a few days.” Dorian has let the bristly black stubble grow over the weekend, making him look like the bad boy I’ve always imagined him to be.

  “Well sorry to disappoint, but it’ll be gone in the morning,” he says rubbing the tiny hairs on his chin with his hand. The reminder leaves an ache in my chest. Tomorrow I’ll go back to my normal mundane life. School, work, and the threat of a Dark One trying to kill me. No big deal.

  “So as a last hoorah before graduation, my friends and I are planning to go to Breckinridge for the final weekend of ski season so the guys can get in some snowboarding. I’d like to extend the invitation to you, though I’m not sure I’m still welcomed to go with them,” I chuckle weakly, trying to mask my unease.

  “I’m sure you’ll patch things up with Jared. Actually I have to leave for a while. I have to go back to Greece and will be gone until around that time.”

  Dorian takes in my forlorn expression, though I’m trying hard to mask it. Spring Break is coming up and I was hoping to spend the entire time in his arms. What the hell keeps calling him to Greece so often?

  “How about I meet you there?” he suggests. My face instantly transforms and a hopeful smile plays on my lips. “Take these next couple weeks to make things right with all of them and then I’ll join you there. Enjoy the first day or so with them, ensure them that nothing has changed. Then you and I can have our time together.”

  Dorian’s plan is genius. I need to give my friends my undivided attention so I can prove to them that I am the same old Gabs. God only knows how much time I have left with them. I give Dorian a genuine smile and take a bite of my noodles. He really does have the answer for everything. I’m even starting to feel better just being in his presence. It’s as if he knows what I need before I even know I need it. Yes, a little distance will be good for us so I can fix things with Jared without the distraction of Dorian. I just hope I’m not writhing with emotional and sexual turmoil the entire time he’s gone. Or that the Dark doesn’t get to me before I get to say goodbye.