He pulls out suddenly, and rubs himself against my puckered hole. I jerk, but he holds me still, continuing to rub his length against my seam. Then he’s back inside me, back to the tight, warmth that yearns for him.
“Dorian,” I moan, grateful to have him where he belongs. “More, please. I need you deeper.”
He doesn’t speak, but he concedes, slamming into me with so much force that I nearly collide with the headboard. He pulls out to the tip and impales me again. And again. And again. Until we flow into a savage rhythm that punishes my body and lays waste to all my sensibilities. He grips my hair, wrapping it around his hand so I can’t get away. When I feel slight pressure at my backside again, I know why.
There’s a prick of pain as his finger penetrates the tight bundle of nerves. Thankfully, he’s slowed his strokes to a lazy roll of his hips so my body can adjust to the forbidden intrusion.
“What are you doing?” I gasp.
He answers my question with a sharp pull of my hair, sending tiny stabs of pain all over my scalp. It lasts just a second before all I can feel is his finger again, and his thick length moving in and out of me slowly.
I moan. No. I whimper. No. I sob.
I don’t know what to feel. It’s different, not exactly comfortable, but it feels…it feels…good. Two parts of me—one all wetness and inviting warmth, the other pain and devious delight—syncing together to create one pulsing mass of white-hot pleasure. It expands, it contracts. It morphs and transforms into something greater than sensation. Greater than me. Something so out of control and boundless that I can no longer contain it. It’s growing, pushing me to submit, stripping me raw as it coils once more before it begins to burst entirely.
I quiver, my arms unable to support my weight, and Dorian wraps me in his arms without breaking his stride. We’re moving together now, pushing and pulling against each other. Chasing the end of all ends. He’s pulsing wildly inside me. Even his finger trembles with the promise of climax. He groans as I reach between my legs and cup him gently, feeling him tense and throb inside the palm of my hand. That’s his undoing. And his undoing spawns mine.
Together we fall apart in a melee of cries and moans, exhausting so much energy from our bodies that every candle in the room is extinguished. We writhe in the dark, lying on our sides, kissing each other with so much desperation that tears fill my eyes and roll down my face. It’s so much…so much that I can’t even comprehend this feeling. I just know that I never want it to end. I’d rather die in this moment than let it go.
Dorian kisses my hair before pulling my body as close as possible and tucking me under his arm. He still doesn’t speak, but I still feel the words in his touch, even if he doesn’t want me to. I cry silent tears as we both drift off to sleep, holding onto this peace. Holding onto him like it would be our last time.
I’M IN THE library, scrounging up anything and everything I can find about Light and Dark history, when Niko rushes in, his hair a mess of black waves over his forehead and his chin speckled with stubble. This is the least put together I’ve ever seen him, even when his power was diminished. Even when I woke up in his arms after a night of crying hysterically. His eyes are bloodshot and wild with agitation, yet his blue irises are sparked with ire.
“House meeting, Gabs. Now! Grab Morgan and meet me in the great room.”
I close the book and stand slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements that may irritate him any more. “Niko, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Just do what I said, will you? Shit!” Then he’s gone.
I grab Morgan from her room and lead her to the great room where Dorian, Alexander and Niko are already gathered. We all sit down, giving Niko the floor.
“They have Cyrus,” he deadpans.
“What?” Dorian is on his feet, fists balled at his sides.
“Stavros, he has him. And if I know our father like I think I do, Cyrus won’t be alive for long.”
“But isn’t he your cousin?” I ask, my too-high voice verging on dog tone. “How could he kill his family?”
Niko shakes his head. “He no longer sees him as family. Cyrus is a vampire now. The minute he lost his power, he became no more than a servant in my father’s eyes.”
“Bullshit,” Dorian spits. “We have to get him back. We have to find him. Now!”
“Easier said than done, old friend,” Alex says gravely. “I know better than anyone how difficult it is to escape.”
“So what do we do? We just can’t leave him,” Niko asks, desperation in his voice. He pulls at his hair, growling out his frustration. I can see that he’s in pain.
“Niko,” I whisper, going to his side. “We’ll find him. Alive.”
I don’t even think about what I’m doing, not when his agony is so palpable. I wrap him in my arms, squeezing him to my body. His hands are limp at his sides for several seconds until I feel them slide around my back.
This feels so right…yet so wrong. Niko is my friend, and he’s hurting. He just needs to be comforted. And while I know that Dorian may share a similar pain, something in my heart aches for Niko. He needs this. I need this.
“We should discuss strategy,” Dorian bites out gruffly. I let my arms fall to my sides and step away, feeling three sets of eyes burning into me. Niko gives me a quick flash of a half grin and turns back to the group.
“Alright. Let’s do this.”
THE GUYS BREAK out blueprints of the Dark palace that Niko had stashed away in his study. They work tirelessly for hours, sketching out plans, rehearsing strategies and going over countless scenarios. Feeling helpless, I enlist Morgan to help me make some sandwiches and coffee.
“Aren’t you afraid?” she asks, slathering a slice of bread with Dijon mustard.
“Of what?”
“Of them going to Greece? Of them damn near committing suicide by embarking on some crazy rescue mission?”
She throws the piece of bread on the counter, and I gingerly pick it up, topping it with shaved ham. “Of course, I am,” I whisper, refusing to meet her eyes. It’ll only make it harder to fight back the tears. “I’m terrified. I wish to God—to the Divine—that they wouldn’t go, but I can’t ask them to sit back and do nothing. Cyrus is a good guy. He helped rescue me when I was attacked and nearly raped. He saved my father’s life. He’s Dorian’s family. And in some way, that makes him like my family too.”
“But he’s a vampire, right? He can’t be killed.”
I shake my head. “We can all be killed. We just can’t die from natural causes. And even if we were invincible, I still couldn’t ask Dorian to step aside and send his brother and friend into the danger zone. I couldn’t live with myself if it meant imminent death for the people I love.”
“You love them?” I can hear the underlying accusation in Morgan’s voice.
“Alexander is my father, Morgan. You know that. Of course, part of me loves him, even though I haven’t had a chance to really get to know him. You know, with people dying and disappearing all around me.” I slap cheese and lettuce on the pile of ham, and nearly pulverize a slice of bread on top of that.
“And Niko?”
“What about him?”
“You care for him. You love him too. I can see it when he’s around. You get all…weird and squirmy.”
“I am not weird and squirmy around him!” I scoff. “Yes, I have a certain level of love and respect for Niko, but I am in love with Dorian. You know that. Shit, the whole world knows that.”
“Ok, Gabs,” Morgan concedes, holding her palms up in surrender. “I’m just saying…”
“Well, don’t say, ok?” I snap, turning my attention back to prepping ham and turkey sandwiches on rye.
What the hell is Morgan’s problem? She knows good and damn well that I’m loyal to Dorian. Shit, she knew I couldn’t shake him from my system while we were apart, no matter how hard I tried. Dorian had become my addiction. Loving him was my disease. And there was no coming back from that. I could never, ev
er shake the habit.
We resume making lunch in silence until we have enough sandwiches to feed a small army. The guys are more than thankful for the sustenance, although it does nothing to quell the bloodthirsty gleam in their eyes.
“Find anything?” I ask, grabbing a sandwich and sitting on the couch. Dorian shakes his head without looking up from the map he’s studying.
“There are ways to get in, but getting out will be problematic. Even if one of us were to cause a diversion, there’s a slim chance we would all make it out alive.”
“So take me,” I find myself saying before I can fully think it through. “Let me help. Maybe I can do that freezey thing and get us all to safety.”
“That freezey thing?” he asks amusingly.
“You know what I mean. Come on, four heads are better than three. Let me help.”
All three Warlocks answer at the same time, completely refusing my offer.
“No way in hell.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh, hell no, baby girl.”
Dorian looks up and gives me a soft smile to cushion the rejection. “I appreciate your bravery, little girl—I truly do. But I won’t risk one hair on that gorgeous head on yours.”
I finish my sandwich without another word, trying to hide my protruding lip behind slices of smoked turkey and gouda. They’re still treating me like a helpless child. I could help them! I could finally prove that all this pain and suffering was not in vain. And so what if Stavros captured me? I would blast my way out of there.
Morgan scoots beside me, offering me a chip from her bag. Translation: I’m sorry for what I said earlier, and I’m sorry that your feelings are hurt now. Here. Drown your sorrows in greasy trans fats dipped in salt.
Just as I pop the chip into my mouth, pain seizes my skull, filling my head with unbelievable pressure. It feels like my brain will explode any second, and bleed out my ears into a goopy, bloody mess. I cry out, but soon realize that I’m not alone in my agony. Dorian, Niko and Alexander are all writhing on the floor while grasping their heads. They feel it too. And although it feels like someone pounding my skull with a jackhammer, I can tell that they’re in a great deal more pain than me.
Unable to verbalize what’s happening to me, I reach out to get to Morgan and she clutches my hand. “What’s going on? Gabs, what’s wrong?”
“My…head,” I manage to croak. “Hurts…so…bad.”
“Fuck!” Niko grits out. “Stavros…” It’s all he can manage to say before he screams in sheer torture. I drop to my knees and use every bit of my might to crawl to where he twists in pain.
“Summoning us…” Dorian rasps beside his brother. He holds out a trembling hand towards me. “Hold…on.”
I force myself to turn to Morgan, the only person in the room exempt from the strange phenomena. “Morgan!” I scream. “Help! Hold…onto…them.”
Understanding, she launches herself over Alex’s body, using her own body weight to hold him to the ground. Then she reaches her hand out to us, urging us to take it.
My fingers just barely touch hers before it all goes black and still.
I WAKE UP face down with wet sand lodged in my mouth and nose, coughing and spitting out clumps of dirt. My hair is a matted mess on my face, and my clothes are damp. Pushing myself up on shaky arms, I look out into the darkness.
“Dorian?” I call, pushing out my hearing, hoping to detect any noise at all. “Hello? Niko? Morgan? Alex? Where are you guys?”
“I’m here,” a voice croaks. It’s not until Dorian coughs with a painful groan that I recognize who it is.
I begin to crawl towards the direction of his voice when I hear Niko bite out a curse a few feet away from me. I scurry to his side as he sits up, brushing sand from his face and hair.
“Un-fucking-real,” he mutters.
“What the hell happened?”
Niko sucks his teeth, grimacing. “Stavros. That’s what happened.”
“Stavros?” The word comes out as a broken whisper. “How? Where are Alex and Morgan?”
“Didn’t make it.”
“Didn’t make it?!” I’m suddenly on my feet, my fists hot as coal at my sides.
“No, no, baby girl,” Niko says holding up his palms. “Calm down. They didn’t make it here.”
“And where’s here?” I already know the answer. I just need to hear it out loud.
“Skiathos,” Dorian says from behind us.
I rush into his arms, nearly knocking him back to the ground. “How the hell…? How did we get here?”
Niko stands, still brushing wet sand from his clothing. “We were summoned.”
“Summoned?” I ask, frowning. “That was being summoned? Feeling like someone is squeezing your brain like it’s a damn grape? I thought you said no one knew where your house was? You said we’d be safe!”
“He doesn’t know. He summoned us by tapping into our Dark magic. Which is why Morgan was not affected. It’s extremely difficult and draining on your power, so I didn’t expect him to try it.”
Stavros can pluck us up out of thin air anytime he feels like it? Shit. Were we ever really safe?
“It seems as if Morgan acted as shield over Alex’s body,” Dorian adds. “It weakened his connection, which is why they were spared.”
“Interesting,” Niko muses. “We’ll have to test that little theory later. But for now, we need to figure out what the hell we’re doing here.”
I shake my head, feeling granules of sand trickle from the tips of my hair. “I don’t get it. How did this happen? Why would he come after us?”
Dorian slips his hand and mine, turning to the western end of the beach where golden light illuminates a small house affixed on a rocky cliff. “Guess we should go ask him.”
THE HOUSE ON the cliff is more like a ramshackle hut, and nothing like I expected of a Dark palace.
“It only appears meager and unassuming on the outside,” Dorian says, reading the confusion on my face. “Such grand opulence, hidden behind the rouse of poverty.”
“Everything is a lie,” Niko remarks, stepping in front of us as we climb the rocky, unpaved path to the door. “It’d be wise for you to remember that.”
“Are you sure we should just go in? I mean, shouldn’t we at least try to escape?” I look around, feeling dozens of invisible eyes on me. Why are we just striding right into the lion’s den? It just doesn’t seem logical.
Niko snorts out a laugh. “Escape? There is no escape, baby girl. We’ve been under surveillance the moment we landed on this bloody island. We either go give Stavros the audience he desires, or we die. Simple as that.”
He marches up the rest of the way, grumbling under his breath in Greek. I look to Dorian beside me with round, horrified eyes.
“We won’t make it out of here alive, will we?” I whisper. Dorian brings my hand up to his lips and gives me a soft, sad smile.
“You never know with Stavros. To kill us would be considered wasteful. We’re much more valuable to him alive than dead.”
“But he has to know that we would never, ever ally with him.”
Dorian shrugs, tugging me along toward the cobblestone entrance without another word. The door is that heavy, unfinished wood—the kind you find in old, rural cottages and dungeons. With hesitance, Niko wraps his hand around the doorknob, yet doesn’t turn it. For just a second, the handle illuminates under his grip and the door creaks open on its own.
Everything Dorian said was true. This place isn’t some dilapidated shack at all. Not by a long shot.
We step into a long, brightly lit hallway, lavishly adorned in gold and cream tones. Everything from the gilt marble-top hall tables to the bejeweled candelabras is breathtaking. I look up toward the tall, vaulted ceiling, completely awestruck as I take in the dazzling chandeliers dotted with a million tiny, teardrop crystals. It’s all magnificent—more than I could ever imagine. It’s impossible to feel fear or anger when surrounded by such astounding beauty.
“Yes. It does take some getting used to. My apologies,” Dorian remarks, slightly cringing.
“Are you kidding me? This place is amazing! I mean, I thought Niko’s house was gorgeous, but this place…it’s…it’s…”
“Too much,” Dorian replies. “There are starving people all over the world. Most areas in my country are stricken with destitution, and that chandelier alone could sustain an entire town. We, the Dark, are curators of beauty, if you will. But there is a difference between appreciation and excess. And this…this is beyond excessive.”
“Besides,” Niko chimes with a wicked grin, “wait ‘til you see the throne room.”
We walk about twenty more yards, before three black-suited men wearing sunglasses block our advance. Vampires. I can’t sense any magic stirring in them, but the scent of blood is so thick that I can nearly taste it on my tongue. I hold my breath to keep my stomach from roiling.
“The king will see you in an hour,” the one in the front says, flashing a mouthful of fang.
“An hour?” Niko scoffs. “He sent for us. We’ll see him now so we can hurry up and get the fuck out of here.”
“No. You’ll see him in an hour. Your father requests your company at tea. Please,” Fang says, gracefully waving a hand towards another long hallway.
Niko spits out a nasty remark, telling the vamp exactly what he could do with his tea, yet turns down the gold-filled corridor. “Just like him,” he mumbles, stalking ahead. “Bring us here just to make us wait. Fuck his tea.”
“Nikolai,” Dorian gently admonishes. He appears much more calm than his younger brother, yet he hasn’t loosened his grip on my hand since we arrived. Something tells me there’s more than a little rage just under his cool exterior.
“No, fuck that! Why prolong the inevitable? Why go through the trouble of bringing us—bringing her—here if all he wanted was to get together for finger sandwiches and scones? This is bullshit and you know it, D. Stop trying to make sense of his madness. News-fuckin’-flash: There is none.”
Light Shadows Page 18