The Dark Prince (The Dark Light Series)

by S. L. Jennings

  ***

  I feel the soft, white sand between my toes, little granules glistening like tiny diamonds in the sunlight. The sun feels heavenly, heating my bare back like a warm, feather-light blanket. The sounds of crashing waves combined with the fresh, salty smell of seawater piques my memory. I’ve been here before. My eyes are closed, heavy with relaxation but I know where I am.

  Skiathos.

  I’m alone again, but I don’t feel lonely. I’m not afraid of this unknown, exotic land. I feel oddly comfortable here. I feel at home. I want to turn over onto my back so I can look up at the clear blue skies, but my body is so heavy and fatigued. And the sand is so soft and warm, I just can’t bring myself to disturb this perfect moment.

  Suddenly, a cool, tingling sensation runs up and down my spine, causing me to lightly shiver. The contrast of the hot sun coupled with the coldness is delightfully titillating. I moan reflexively as the tingles spread out towards every nerve ending, igniting my carnal senses.

  “I love you, little girl,” a velvety smooth voice murmurs in my ear. It’s a voice I know, a voice I want to hear for the rest of my life.

  Dorian.

  I force my heavy eyelids to flutter open to find the source of the angelic voice but am greeted with darkness instead. I am no longer on the beach. I am in my bedroom. However, I can still feel the icy tingles kissing my back and I lift my head in response. He’s here, tracing the outline of my tattoo with a single cool finger. I can’t see the expression on his face, only the twinkling depths of his azure eyes. Emotion instantly floods my chest, erupting into a strained sob.

  “Dorian,” I choke, feeling hot tears pool in my tired eyes. The response startles him and he quickly kneels to meet my gaze.

  “I’m here. Are you hurt?” he questions worriedly.

  I don’t say a word. I’m afraid that if I do, he will disappear. I simply turn from my stomach onto my side and pull him onto the bed with me. He willingly obliges and we lay face to face, silently relishing the comfort of closeness. I let the cool freshness of his scent envelop me, the soft pads of his fingers wiping away my tears.

  Having him here now makes me realize just how broken I was without him. Now I can breathe. Each of his touches strips away the anguish that was strangling me, draining the life right out of me. It’s now more apparent than ever that I can’t live without him.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally say, once I am certain that I can contain myself.

  I feel Dorian shift as if he’s shaking his head. “Don’t be. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in that manner. Forgive me. And you were right.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I was absolutely wrong to say those things. I hate myself for it.” I lift my hand to stroke Dorian’s stubble-laden cheek. He nestles into the touch and inhales, breathing my essence. He needs me just as much as I need him. “I never want to fight again. I never want to be without you.”

  “You won’t,” he breathes. “I’ll never leave you, Gabriella. I never did.”

  Dorian’s fingers drift from my face down the curve of my side, making me remember that I’ve gone to bed topless to allow my tattoo to heal. My free hand flies up to my breasts reflexively yet Dorian quickly pulls it back down.

  “Don’t ever hide from me. I love you, every inch of you, inside and out. You never have to shield your body. Or your heart.”

  Dorian can see right through me, straight to my core. He knows the insecure, scared feelings I harbor deep inside. He knows my darkest secrets, my deepest regrets. He lives in me.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done.” I whisper. “I hate myself for hurting you.”

  I feel Dorian smile against my hand. “I’ve lived through worse, little girl.”

  “But not from me. I never want to be the source of your pain. I don’t want to be that person anymore- always so defensive, expecting for someone to hurt me. I don’t want to push you away.”

  “You won’t. You can’t. I’ve been waiting my entire life to love you,” he says before placing a soft kiss on the inside of my palm.

  My heart warms at his admission, carefully falling back into place, jagged shard by shard. And with that, I close the small distance between us and nestle into his arms, the only place I’ll ever want to be.

  When we awaken Friday morning, I am still tightly secured in Dorian’s arms, chest to chest. We spent the entire night talking, kissing, and feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies. I wanted to feel him entirely, wanted him to make love to me but he refused until my back healed a bit. Plus it was nice just being together again, knowing that more than sex binds us. Along with his incredible body, he truly has the most beautiful soul.

  “Good morning, little girl,” Dorian murmurs in my hair.

  “How do you always know when I’m awake?” I giggle against his skin. It always smells so wonderful, so refreshing.

  Dorian leaves a kiss on the crown of my head. “That beautiful brain of yours.”

  Reluctantly, I wriggle out of his hold to trot to the bathroom. I’m dressed in only yellow striped flannel boxer shorts and can’t help but blush as Dorian watches me cross the room with desire burning in his smoldering eyes. After relieving my bladder of last night’s tequila and brushing my teeth, I reemerge and giddily flop back onto the bed. Dorian inspects my back in the daylight, though I’m certain he could see it perfectly fine in the dark.

  “Do you like it?” I ask timidly.

  “I do. It suits you.” He leans forward and kisses the tender skin around it, his cool lips soothing the soreness. “Very sexy.”

  “Mmmm,” I moan. Even the slightest touch makes my body quiver.

  “Don’t do that. If you start making those kinds of sounds, I won’t be able to stop. I know you’re sore. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I look up at Dorian solemnly. “That pain is nothing in comparison to how I felt these past few days. Not because you hurt me, but because I hurt you. I want it to hurt. I want to suffer for what I’ve done.”

  He cocks his head to one side and gives me a crooked smile. “Gabriella, the only pain I felt was the agonizing feeling that I had lost you. Nothing else matters to me. Knowing I could only watch you as you slept, knowing I couldn’t touch you, kiss you, be inside you… It destroyed me. Last night, I couldn’t stay away. I was too weak for you. I had to touch you, feel your skin against mine.”

  I sit up and straddle his lap, pressing my lips against his. Dorian instantly responds, pulling me closer into him by my backside. His skilled tongue delves into my mouth, massaging, tasting, teasing. My bare swollen breasts ache against his chiseled chest, longing to be touched and fondled. I can feel the swell of his erection under his slacks jabbing my sensitive flesh. I want him now, and I don’t care if it hurts. Just as my hands fumble to undo his fly, I feel an unwelcomed vibration in his pants pocket. You’ve got to be kidding me!

  I ease back just far enough for Dorian to fish out his cell. He hits the Talk button and gives an exasperated greeting then listens contently. I suddenly remember the picture I took with my own phone and hop off his lap to retrieve it despite his puppy dog faced plea for me to stay.

  “Look what I found at the tattoo parlor,” I say, handing him the phone once he’s done with his call.

  Dorian studies the picture for a beat then his unreadable eyes meet mine. “Humph. Humans.”

  “The lady there told me that some random guys each got them. How would they know? And what are these other names?”

  Dorian sighs and rubs his eyes as if he’s suddenly grown weary. “There were 8 original Dark families, supposedly the very first clans of the Dark which spawned all other clans. Over time, of course many more were birthed, but it is believed that we are the purest, most powerful of all the Dark. Each family is influential in their own right, the Skotos obviously being the most dominant.”

  “So these eight families, are they the noble families in Greece?” I sit up on my knees, totally engrossed in the subject, hanging on to Dorian’s eve
ry word. This is my heritage too. My father was Polemos.

  “Yes. It is rumored that they are responsible for the corruption of the Dark.” Dorian runs his hand through his sexy disheveled hair. “I’m not entirely sure how humans got ahold of this information, but I’m not surprised. Myths can easily reflect truth. I’ve been…out of the loop, so to speak, for the last twenty years. Apparently, changes have been made.”

  Right. Dorian’s petrification was only reversed so he could hunt and kill me. Who knows what he awoke to find. “What do you think this means?”

  Dorian shrugs. “I can’t say. There’s been a breach, that’s for sure. Whether or not it was intentional is the question.” I can see the subject has aged him, his brow furrowed in deliberation. I smile at him brightly and plant a kiss on his soft lips, hoping to restore his pleasant mood. It works. “Get dressed. I’m going to take you to work then I have some business to attend to. I’ll be back in time to take you to lunch.”

  Business at Cashmere is steady, and I happily jump into helping customers and rearranging displays, a welcomed change from my melancholy demeanor in the past days. Once it slows a bit, I take a moment to peruse the racks for something hot to wear for Carlos’s birthday party later tonight. I had totally forgotten about it until Morgan mentioned it over coffee this morning. She, too, seemed oddly chipper, indicating that her date the evening before was successful. I wanted to ask her who the mystery man was but didn’t want to put her on the spot in front of Dorian. Before I can think too much about it or complete my search for a dress, Carmen asks me to sign for a delivery.

  “It’s addressed to you,” she says, observing the black jacquard box adorned with an elaborate red bow.

  I shrug my shoulders and take the small package back to my office to inspect. Probably a few sample pieces from a new designer who wants a little extra credit for flair. After I’ve successfully unraveled the bow and open the box, I find something else entirely. An all-white jeweled string bikini sits amidst a sea of black tissue paper. It’s absolutely gorgeous, yet I already knew that it would be. I’ve worn this bikini before. In my dream. The dream the Dark King gave me.

  Resting on top of the sexy swimwear is a white note card. I take a deep breath and turn it over to read.

  The lotus flower- a symbol of sacred beauty through adversity. Purity. Rebirth.

  Congratulations on embracing the true goddess within you.

  -Stavros

  “How very convenient,” a voice mutters from behind me.

  I spin around, clutching my chest, the note still gripped tightly in my hand. “Dorian!” I shriek. “When did you get here?” He obviously didn’t come through the door.

  He holds his hand out, requesting the notecard and ignoring my question. I look back down at it, contemplating scrapping it to save us the drama but reluctantly hand it over. Dorian studies it with an unreadable expression, showing no signs of discontent or irritation. The momentary flash of his crystal blue eyes is the only sign of reaction at all. He sets the card on the desk then mutters something in Greek, ‘Stavros’ being the only word I’m able to decipher in his heavy accent. Even in this heated moment, it arouses me fiercely.

  “Your father?” I finally mumble after a few tense moments of silence. Dorian’s eyes meet mine, and I receive the answer to my question, his irises icy and cold with ire. Crap. Can we go one day without him losing his shit about something?

  I force a stiff smile of reassurance. “I’ll get rid of it. Not my style anyway.”

  “No. It was a gift,” he mutters. “You should keep it. It would look incredible on you.” His cool hand strokes my cheek delicately. He’s trying desperately to reel in his anger.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I do feel like I should send him a thank you note though. Do you know where I could send it?”

  Dorian’s brow furrows a bit, unable to mask his surprise and confusion. Then something else reads across his beautiful face. Resignation. He nods in defeat.

  “Good!” I beam. I pull out a sheet of stationary and begin to fashion my letter of gratitude to Dorian’s persistently vile father.

  Stavros,

  Thank you for the swimsuit; it is beautiful. However, I can’t and won’t accept gifts from you or anyone else. I am pretty crazy in love with your son, Dorian. Him and only him. And there is nothing that you could ever give me that I don’t already have in him. So please, don’t waste your money or your time.

  Sincerely,

  Gabriella

  I fold the piece of paper in half and place it in the box followed by the elaborate box top. “Please be sure he gets this,” I say handing it over to Dorian, who looks somewhat bemused.

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m serious,” he insists. “I’m sure this will make him very angry. Probably provoke him to do something rash.”

  “And would that bother you?”

  Dorian takes a beat to think about it before giving me a sexy half-smile. “Not in the least.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  By 10 pm, I am dressed and ready to head out to Carlos’s birthday celebration at Aria. I’m literally running on fumes, having worked a full day from opening to close at Cashmere, not to mention extremely sexually frustrated. Dorian still has not put out the flame burning deep between my thighs, and I’m starting to think he’s still punishing me for our fight earlier in the week. I can’t think like that; the immense guilt may creep back in, causing me to tumble back into a state of depression. And I have so much to be thankful for right now.

  Dorian shows up at my apartment, eyes alight with the same carnal craving that’s eating me alive. He looks devilishly dashing in charcoal grey designer jeans, a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, skinny silk tie and a black vest, all tailored to accentuate his remarkable build. He is by far the best dressed man I have ever seen, looking more male model than ruthless assassin. His perfectly chaotic black locks and the bit of rugged stubble scream bad boy meets business, making my ache for him even more unbearable. I want him now, and won’t hesitate to pull up my strapless silver and black foil shirred dress for easier access.

  “You look incredible, baby,” he coos in my ear, placing a soft kiss just below my earlobe. It’s enough to drive me absolutely mad.

  “You too. Is it a coincidence that we match?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. Sheesh, who knew we would be one of those couples?

  Dorian gives me a wink of his smoldering eye, and bites his bottom lip. Yes, he must be just as affected. The prospect of actually making it to this birthday party is looking slimmer by the second.

  “Either you’re going to take me back in that bedroom and give me a proper ruining or we need to leave,” I say with a hand perched on my curvy hip. I would skip the affair altogether had I not promised Morgan I would be there before she left with Miguel.

  Dorian grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and leads me out to his gleaming black Mercedes. As we cruise east towards Powers Boulevard, the sensual sounds of Usher radiating from the speakers, the pulsing down below becomes amplified in the confined space. I need him like I need air. Just something to ease the intense yearning for him.

  “I know, baby,” he breathes.

  That’s it. I can’t take this anymore. With lustful fervor, I undo my seatbelt then lean over to anxiously unfasten his belt buckle, causing Dorian to nearly yelp in surprise at my spontaneity. I hurriedly undo the fly if his jeans, feeling the heat radiating from the hardened bulge begging to be relinquished. My eyes grow wide with excitement as I unleash his rock hard erection, feeling it pulse in my hands. I’m so hungry for him, I can’t wait any longer. I take him in my mouth, hearing a grateful sigh at the feeling of my wet tongue. I pull back, sucking, swirling it with my tongue before sliding back down to the back of my throat. I wish I could savor every luscious inch of him, yet his substantial size makes it impossible. Over and over, I suckle and lick, letting my hands stroke the sensitive parts of him that my mouth can’t reach. He moans approvingly,
his fingers gently massaging my scalp. They slide down to my breasts, slipping inside of my dress, flicking and tugging my aching nipples. I moan against his flesh in my mouth, vibrating his swell, adding an extra element of pleasure.

  “Ah, shit, baby, you’re gonna make me…” Dorian breathes. He’s panting, struggling to keep his eyes on the road, though his driving hasn’t faltered in the least.

  “No, don’t,” I command, coming up for air for just a second before resuming my relentless tongue-lashing and savoring the tiny trickles of sweet sap collecting at the tip.

  “You’re gonna make… Fuck, I’m gonna come, baby,” he rasps, his breathing wild with sweet agony. His fingers continue to strum my hard nipples and I moan again, letting the vibrations shudder through him. I slow my pace, to avoid his unraveling, refusing to bring him to the brink that he so desperately needs, just like me.

  Pleasing him only intensifies the burning inside me, the throb evolving into an uncontrollable quake. I squeeze my thighs together, fighting the urge to touch myself while I pleasure my impassioned lover. This is about him. This is my redemption.

  Dorian swells and pulsates in my mouth, warning me that release is near. Reluctantly, I pull away, and sit up, leaving his burning hot, distended member standing upright in his lap. Dorian looks over at me incredulously, completely taken aback at what has transpired. Not only did I completely catch him off guard, which is not an easy feat by any means, I’ve left him hard as a rock and ready to explode. He’s speechless, unable to articulate a single word now that every ounce of blood has traveled south of the border.

  Wow. Dorian flustered? Now there’s a first!

  I casually pull the passenger side mirror down and fluff my hair, scooping it all to one side to hang over my shoulder before looking over at my disoriented lover.

  “I’m sorry but you’ll just have to wait until later. Sucks, doesn’t it?” Pun definitely intended. “Here, let me help you with that.”