Coveted - Book 3 in the Gwen Sparks Series

by Stephanie Nelson

  Dorian walked over to my side of the room, stopping in front of me. I kept my eyes on the floor, my mind too occupied with trying to remember every last detail of the hallucination.

  “Find me.”

  “Tag, you’re it,” Dorian said, reaching a hand out and tapping my arm. “Worst game of hide-n-seek ever.”

  “What?” I tugged my brain back to the present, looking up at him.

  “You said ‘find me’.”

  “Oh. Did I?” I hadn’t realized I said it out loud. “Nothing, never mind.” I absentmindedly waved the topic away.

  The mattress squeaked when Dorian sat down beside me, his feet spaced apart as he leaned over on his elbows.

  “What is going on?” He cocked his head to the side to look at me. “You’re acting like you fell through the rabbit hole.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face, hoping to erase some of the bewilderment filling my head. The dream had been something out of a fairytale, peculiar and absurd. I rolled my neck against my shoulders, trying to ease the tight muscles.

  “It was so realistic, the dream. There was a man, or at least he sounded like a man. And…I don’t know, he produced this music that turned my bones to cotton and my brain to mush. We danced on the patio and I floated. He told me to find him.” I looked over at Dorian. He was watching me like I’d just told him Santa Claus had visited me.

  “Sounds like a dream to me.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agreed. “It was just…so real.”

  Silence settled over the room, both of us retreating to our thoughts. After a while I turned back to Dorian and asked, “So why are you in my room?”

  “My room.”

  “What?”

  “This is my room,” Dorian explained. “So technically I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

  This was the room Dorian put me in when I had first arrived. Now that I knew it was his personal room it felt different—intimate. A sudden thought came to me, causing my upper lip to curl in disgust.

  “I seriously hope you washed these sheets before you offered your bed to me.”

  Dorian chuckled, his smile soothing me a little bit. “I don’t bring women back to my place, Gwen. You’re the first female to touch the sheets.”

  That was about as believable as my spiel about a bizarre man who controlled me with music.

  “It’s the truth,” Dorian said answering my unspoken accusation.

  A bit of aggravation snaked its way through my body. “Stop avoiding the question. Why are you in here? This place has multiple bedrooms. You could have slept in one of them.”

  I could tell by the look on his face that it bothered him that I didn’t want to share a bed. There had been so many mixed signals between us that I wouldn’t blame him if he was angry with me. I’d been enjoying his company, and kisses, yet pushing him away at the same time.

  “I was thinking,” he said almost hesitantly. “You were pretty upset after Aiden left.” He glanced at me. When I didn’t argue the statement he continued. “I never understood relationships. They seemed pointless and messy. But…the way you acted when he left,” he paused as if double checking whether the thoughts running through his head were correct or not. “I think I understand now.”

  “You do?” Again, I didn’t mean it as harsh or skeptical as it sounded.

  He nodded, sitting up straight but staring ahead instead at me. “I think I’d feel the same way if you left. If I knew I’d never see you again…it would hurt.”

  The last part came out sounding more like a question than a statement. And maybe it was, maybe he wasn’t sure what being hurt felt like. I almost envied him for that. Then again, it was also sad. I watched him with amazement, wondering how he survived millennia without ever growing attached to anyone. I imagined it to be a very lonely existence.

  “I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you,” I told him. “I know you and I sort of have a thing—”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” he interrupted. “But I was jealous of the feeling. I sat here while you slept wondering what it’d be like if you cared for me the way you do for him—”

  “Dorian…” I wanted to tell him I did care about him, but we both knew it wasn’t on the same level he was talking about. I didn’t love him. That’s not to say I would never love him though.

  “I will always care about Aiden,” I confessed. “But there were too many obstacles in our way for it to work out. I know things between us have been…confusing, but I care about you too. Just on a different level.” I regretted saying the last part as soon as it was out of my mouth. If life had a rewind button the world would be a less angry place.

  “I know,” Dorian said. “And I think that’s why it’s better if we keep our relationship professional—teacher and student.” He stood, keeping his back to me. His broad shoulders were stiff, his hands curled into tight fists. “You’re the first thing I’ve wanted and not gotten.” His voice was incredulous like the idea was beyond his perception.

  “If this is about sex,” I began. My lips snapped shut when he whirled around to face me. Dark angry thunderclouds filled his eyes, his mouth tugged into a livid scowl.

  “That’s not who I am with you,” he bit out. “I thought you’d see that by now. I’m not just looking to explore what’s beneath your panties. I want you, all of you.” He took a step forward. “I want you to burn for me the way I do for you, for you to be consumed by the overwhelming pull I have toward you.” He shook his head as if what he was saying was completely ridiculous. “I want to be the only man your eyes see. Just as you’re the only woman mine take notice of.” A humorless smile spread across his lips, followed by an incredulous snort. “After all this time you still only see me one way. I’ll give you one thing; you never cease to surprise me.”

  When the door slammed I felt it all the way through my bones. I stood frozen, my eyes glued to the space he had disappeared. This wasn’t the first time Dorian had mentioned caring about me, but his speech was different. It had substance—meaning. I’d felt his words as if he’d flung tangible items at me.

  Before I knew what I was doing, my feet had carried me toward the door and down the hall. Dorian was sitting on the couch, a bottle of scotch gripped in his hand. He poured the amber liquid into a chubby glass, setting the bottle down with a hard clink. He took a short drink, wiping his mouth and swaying the glass back and forth. The scotch sloshed against the side like a sea of liquid gold.

  “Just go back to bed, Gwen.”

  Ignoring him, I walked around the sofa and just stood there. Everything I wanted to say was just waiting on the tip of my tongue, but the nervous breath filling my lungs were unable to push them out. I swallowed around the lump rising in my throat, flexing my fingers as I tried to get myself under control.

  “How am I supposed to respond?” I mumbled to myself.

  “Good night is customary.”

  At least Dorian hadn’t lost his sarcastic sense of humor.

  “We’ve only known each other for a month.” I crossed my arms to hide my nervousness.

  Dorian took another drink, sparing me a brief glance. “Your point?”

  “People don’t…it’s not that long.” I didn’t say what I wanted to, that people don’t fall in love so quickly. And if they think that they do, then they don’t realize what the word means. I needed to be careful about not using that tricky four letter word.

  “I assume you’re trying to make a point.” He leaned back against the sofa, resting his glass on his knee. His complete disregard for how tough this was on me was starting to piss me off. Sure he was angry, but did he have to be so flippant about it?

  “The point is, we hardly know each other.”

  Dorian’s head lifted to look at me again, his eyes studying me for one long moment. A cynical smirk fell across his lips before he shook his head and took another drink, dismissing me. “Yet you allowed me to move in with you,” he commented. “Tell me, what’s the waiting period be
fore one qualifies for that?”

  My body was shaking, filled with nervous anger. “You don’t have to be a jerk just because you didn’t get your way.”

  Dorian scooted into a sitting position again, lifting that damned glass to his lips again. “And you don’t have to be so naïve.”

  I took a deep breath to keep my temper under control. “Says the man acting like a spoiled child.”

  Another drink, this time empting the glass and reaching for a refill. “Did you come out here to argue with me?”

  I eyed his glass, stepping forward and snapping it out of his hands. He glared while I took a drink. The alcohol left a fiery path as it slid down my throat. I coughed, bringing my hand to my mouth. What the hell was that stuff made out of—acid?

  “I came out here to have a rational discussion, to try and make you understand.”

  Dorian stood, walking over to me. I held my breath as he moved closer. My eyes moved from his and down to his mouth. A tremor ran through my body when he walked around and stood at my back. Every one of my muscles was strung tight, ready to snap like a rubber band.

  “I do understand.” His breath was hot against my neck. “You’re punishing me for what Aiden did.” Dorian brushed my hair to the side, his mouth coming so close to my neck the anticipation to feel his lips on my skin was overwhelming. I waited.

  And waited some more.

  When I heard his retreating footsteps I wanted to scream. He walked into the kitchen, taking a new glass from the cabinet and filling it with another dark colored liquid. “I get it; you’re all for fooling around but at the first sign of commitment you tuck tail and run. Whatever you need to do to get over whatever it is you’re going through.” He shrugged. “But you’ll have to do it with someone else. I’m not your guy.”

  If words could crush a person, then his had just left me in a million pieces. I felt small and worthless—cheap. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare across the living room at the man who’d just destroyed me. He kept his focus on his glass, unwilling to observe his destruction.

  Finally my body unfroze. I brought the glass in my hand to my lips and swallowed every last drop of the scorching scotch, welcoming the numbing burn. Setting the cup down, I headed toward the hallway but stopped before I reached it.

  “You know, for someone who thinks he knows everything, you’re unbelievably imprudent, and one of the biggest hypocrites I’ve ever met.” I took a deep breath. “The difference between you and me, Dorian, is that I cared for you. Can you say as much for the women you’ve screwed?”

  He looked over, his anger fading and regret taking its place. I didn’t wait to hear what else he had to say; I headed back to the bedroom ready to lose myself, and this conversation, to sleep.

  I stayed in bed almost all day. I know that wasn’t courageous, but sometimes a girl needs some downtime. And after a good night’s sleep and time to think about my argument with Dorian, I was fine. When harsh words are exchanged it always hurts a little but I was mature enough to not dwell. And what was the argument really over? Dorian wanted to commit to me. He may have gone about it the wrong way, but there were worse things. We had never sat down and discussed our feelings. Hell, up until a few days ago I wasn’t even aware Dorian was capable of such things. And I wouldn’t allow my pride to shove all of the blame onto him. I didn’t exactly handle our bizarre relationship with grace either.

  Dragging myself out of bed, I grabbed a handful of clothes and headed to the bathroom. I’d done enough sulking for a lifetime. And still had to deal with a group of rogues, the VC and a pissed off witch.

  After I showered and dressed, I made my way to the living room. Grabbing my boots, I sat down and slipped them on. It was just after five in the evening and I was starving. I’d missed a lot of meals in the past week. My nerves made me lose my appetite, but it was slowly coming back.

  Dorian was nowhere to be found, and hadn’t bothered me all day. And that was okay with me. We both needed some space; time to cool off and get back on track. I had forgotten my sole purpose was to track and take down Holly, instead of dealing with Aiden and Dorian. They were now both on the backburner, not to be visited until I figured out a way to handle Holly and the VC.

  The dagger’s box was sitting on the bookshelf, looking harmless to those who didn’t know better. Lifting the lid, I traced my fingertips over the cool steel and down and over the exquisite jewels. I curled my fingers around the hilt and tucked it into the safety of my jacket. If I was going out by myself then I sure as hell wasn’t going unprotected.

  Once I was happy that the knife was secure, I closed the box and headed down the stairs. It was sunny again, the thunderstorms moving on. Bourbon Street was full like usual. The surrounding restaurants scented the air, causing my stomach to growl in response. Food would have to wait until after I visited the voodoo shop. As I headed down the tourist-filled street, my eyes landed on the surrounding people. Letting my power uncurl, I stretched it out, searching their souls for death. Each person came back clean, which wasn’t surprising. Murder wasn’t a common thing. Still, I released my spirit walker powers, connecting with each soul that passed me. After ten minutes of getting no response, the icy coldness of death struck me. It reacted to my power, weaving and curling around me like a frozen wisp. My eyes searched out the culprit, afraid I’d find black eyes and a dagger tattoo. There were too many people, too many souls passing beside me to single out just one. I bit my lip, my eyes crinkling in concentration. It was getting stronger the more I walked, hitting my bones and consuming me like an avalanche. I stifled a shiver, reaching into my jacket with one hand. I curled my fingers around the dagger’s handle, ready to strike should the guilty person be a rogue.

  My heart raced like a prized horse. My body tensed and readied to react. I moved through the crowded sidewalk like a wild woman, shoving and cutting people off. Their pissed-off comments didn’t faze me. I caught site of the voodoo shop across the street, but needed to follow the pull of death. I had to find out who was producing such a strong signal. Whoever they were, they were a beacon to my spirit walker self. They had killed a lot of people. The blood of their victims stained their soul and called to me, alerting me to their heinous crimes.

  I shoved through the last throng of people and stopped, my eyes traveling this way and that, and landing on a man leaning against a brick wall. He wore a baseball cap, pulled low over his face to hide his identity. His head was turned slightly—his profile the most I could see. As the people passed by him I could tell his eyes tracked their movement. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my concealed dagger, itching to yank it from my jacket.

  I took a step forward, my body stuck in a frozen fury. Murderer, the spirit walker in me whispered accusingly. His victims called to me, begging for retribution. And I was ready to deliver it. Taking another step, my eyes glued to the man, I pulled my arm back to reveal the dagger. Just before I was able to strike, the man turned to look at me. He had known I was there all along, I could sense it. A valley of deep wrinkles lined his face, his blue eyes watching me with amusement.

  Something tugged at my subconscious, trying to lure my attention away from the man. I mentally shrugged it off, willing my eyes to stay on the murderer. A soft whisper of music filled my ears, its call beckoning me to focus on its sweet lullaby. My eyelids grew heavy, and I fought to keep them open. I took a step closer, my legs feeling heavier than they had just moments before. The man smiled deviously, his eyes seeming more and more familiar the longer I stared into them.

  Kill him! My subconscious screamed, but my body felt as if it were moving through quicksand. I fought with my muscles, ordering them to work properly. I gritted my teeth, as I struggled to overcome the music’s influence. Its volume grew, filling my head and tempting me into submission. Still, I fought against it. My body was not my own. It didn’t listen to the orders my brains was sending. Instead my muscles and bones shut down one by one, turning into cotton and grappling
to hold my weight.

  The old man reached his arm out in front of himself, holding one finger up and swaying it back and forth as if conducting an orchestra only my ears could hear. He smiled wide, revealing twin rows of teeth. The music grew louder still, his finger waving in perfect synchronization. No one paid him any attention as he stood amongst the crowd and filled my body with the beautiful music. My arm reached out and I gripped a nearby support pole holding up the balcony above me. The symphony lulled me into extreme relaxation, and I was sure that if I didn’t hold onto something I’d float away.

  As the melody came to its crescendo, it slowly faded away. The man stepped so close to me I could smell the mint of his gum. His gray hair peeked out from beneath his baseball hat and the first three buttons on his shirt were undone. My eyes fell to something shiny lying against his chest— a necklace on a tarnished chain. The pendent was framed in gold, but made of glass. Thin gold strips weaved a protective cage around the glass. The man shifted, and the red liquid kept within the glass pendent sloshed with his movement.

  I dragged my eyes away from the necklace and toward the man’s face. His eyes held too much knowledge, watched me with too much familiarity.

  “Who are you?” I managed to say.

  “Find me,” he said with a smile and punctuated with a wink. And then he was gone, just vanished before my eyes.

  I blinked as clarity came rushing back to my mind. My body snapped back to my control and all of the noises of Bourbon Street filled my ears, so harsh compared to the beautiful sonata I’d just been seduced by. Someone bumped into my shoulder as they passed by, throwing me a rude glare over their shoulder. I released the pole and stumbled back against the wall of a nearby bar to gather my composure.

  Take deep breaths. My inner voice consoled. I inhaled deep through my mouth and released through my nose, repeating the process a couple times. I was slowly beginning to feel like myself again. I leaned my head against the brick wall, staring up at the underneath of the balcony above me. Was that man the same one who’d called my apartment? Was he looking to make some sort of deal, and if so, why? What was his role in the shit storm that surrounded me? I didn’t like adding a new player to the game board; it lowered my odds of winning.