Enthrallment: (Enthrallment Series Book 1)

by Meg Evans

  “Zara, don’t leave your house again today,” Dorian says, breaking the silence that has settled over the car interior, looking at me in the rear-view mirror. His eyes are fierce and peremptory.

  Still reeling from the shock, I don’t dare to object. I only nod my head in response.

  “Is everything alright?”

  I’m about to nod again, but then my eyes fill with tears; I’m not okay at all. Since the crack of dawn, inexplicable and odd phenomena have been tormenting me. It seems to me that I’m ready for the nuthouse. First my nausea that morning, followed by the hallucinations in the kitchen, the crows attacking, my burning hand, and then finally the man in the garden. What else is going to happen to me today?

  “Nothing’s okay,” I say quietly.

  “What’s the matter?” Dorian asks, making a left onto the street where we live. “Tell me. Now,” he insists.

  I hesitate, but I’m unable to resist the urge to vent. I have a feeling that Dorian will understand, that he knows where all this is coming from—the cause and the cure.

  “Everything today has been so weird. I don’t understand anything.” I bury my head in my hands.

  “What’s weird?”

  “Like I said, everything. I don’t know how to explain it.” I’m reluctant to tell them the truth. I don’t want them to think I’m crazy, but I need to get it out of my system anyway. “I can’t tell what’s real from what’s not,” I say, and lift my head. “Was that man real?”

  “Damn real,” Rita confirms.

  What is she even doing here? Wasn’t she going to be gone all week? Is she real?

  “How come you drove by?”

  “Don’t ask. Just be grateful,” she says.

  “Do you know him?”

  “I would say yes, we do,” Dorian says, pulling into their driveway.

  “Perhaps we should take her in with us until we make sure that the area is clear,” Rita suggests. “What do you think?”

  Dorian turns around and, after scanning me from head to toe, says, “You’re totally right.”

  He gets out of the car and makes it all the way around the vehicle to the passenger door. He opens it for me.

  “Can you make it to the door by yourself?”

  “Yes,” I say with no hesitation, but no sooner do I touch the ground with my feet than my legs rebel. Dorian catches me at the last moment, before I hit the hard concrete with my head. He takes me into his arms and carries me to the house.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  Dorian doesn’t answer. Most likely he meant last night, but I don’t want to dig into it. He lays me down on the couch and drops next to me. The shock that has been wearing off has an intensely dizzying effect on me. My system needs to get some rest and cool down.

  “Dorian,” I say, grabbing his shoulder as urgently as if my life depends on it, “promise me you won’t go anywhere, okay?” I give him a look full of supplication. I feel like a terrified child who just woke up after having a nightmare.

  “I won’t move, I promise.” He puts his hand on mine and gently brushes his thumb along the side of my wrist as if he wants to comfort me.

  I’m confident that nothing bad will happen to me as long as he’s near. I’m safe.

  Fixing my eyes on Dorian’s concerned profile, it dawns on me that I could never hate him. Once I’m lying so close to him, I realize it’s not aversion that I feel for him. The only hatred I have in my heart is for myself, for not being capable of walking away from this man more mysterious than any other person I’ve met in my life. But maybe that’s what attracts me to him so much?

  That evening when I decided to sit with him on the porch was a trap, my bane; nothing was going to be the same anymore. But how was I supposed to predict that things would pan out the way they have?

  “I’m going to check out the area.” I recognize Rita’s voice from behind the couch. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Be careful,” Dorian warns her. “You know how cunning they can be.”

  “She doesn’t look too good.” Rita must mean me.

  “Just go.”

  As soon as the door closes behind her, he turns to me. “Zara, can you clarify what you meant when you said you couldn’t tell what was real from what wasn’t?”

  If there’s one person to whom I can confide everything that’s been bothering me without worrying about accusations of being a freak, it’s Dorian. I let myself go and let out all the tension that’s gathered in me from the moment I came back home last night up until now. I familiarize Dorian with even the smallest details. With every sentence, his features tighten. He doesn’t cut in, but listens carefully to my story. Most importantly, there’s no hint of suspicion or doubt in his eyes as to the truthfulness of my words.

  Dorian must know something, at least, that would explain his unshaken reaction to the crazy things I say. No other person would take me seriously; they’d probably question eighty percent of my story or try to find some logical explanation for it. Not Dorian, though. He only says, “All the things you told me about were hallucinations. The only real thing was the man.”

  “But where are those hallucinations coming from? I’ve never had them before. Maybe,” I say, and bite my lip, “someone added something to my drink.”

  “To your drink?” He shoots me a perplexed look.

  “Yes… I went out for a drink before I came here.” My cheeks start to burn.

  “I suspected that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have had the courage to come here after midnight.”

  “I was only a bit tipsy.” I avert my eyes from him.

  “Who did you hang out with?” He grasps my chin and turns my head back to face him.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Very much.”

  “With my girlfriend.”

  “Only your girlfriend?” A pinch of discontent in his voice.

  “No, not only.”

  “Did you go out with the same guy who tried to make out with you in your driveway?”

  “No; the one I was with is a gentleman who’d never take advantage of me.” My double-edged remark is followed by silence.

  I have no idea what Matt’s intentions really were, and I don’t know why I said that. Maybe to make Dorian feel bad about what he said to me last night. But why would he? After all, he gave me multiple chances to withdraw, but I stubbornly insisted on going beyond the point of no return. I willingly let him possess me; he didn’t make me do it. My stupid hopes that it would change something between us are on me. He didn’t promise me anything.

  I’m hurt anyway.

  “Then why did you come here if your date was so perfect?” His eyes sweep over my face with such intimidating power that it’s hard for me to stand my ground, but I don’t look away.

  “I don’t know, Dorian.” My thoughts and emotions are an absolute mess. “The more I try to block you out, the more I need you.”

  “Do you regret last night?”

  The silence is even heavier than before.

  “No,” I say fiercely, even though only a couple hours earlier I would’ve responded differently. His closeness has a disorientating effect on me. I have this irresistible desire to touch him again, feel his texture of his skin under my fingertips, devour his lips. “I only regret how it ended. You?”

  I give him one more opportunity to make things right, even though I already suspect what he’s about to say.

  He drags a breath deep into his lungs and lets it out. “I do regret it.”

  At least he’s honest, but it doesn’t alleviate my bitter disappointment.

  Dorian places his index and middle finger on my lips and slides them down slowly along my chin and neck, stopping on my chest, near my heart. He carefully watches my reaction to his subtle caress. “I loved every minute of last night with you, but it wasn’t the right thing for us to do.” My pulse hammers. I feel alive under his touch again. “There’s so much
life in you.” He places his hand on my heart. “You beam with vitality.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “You shouldn’t depend on anyone’s mercy. You should be free.”

  “Why mercy?” I knit my brows.

  He doesn’t respond, and I don’t wait for him to do so; instead I pull myself up to a sitting position. Our faces are close. His eyes are on mine.

  “If you regret it, why are you teasing me again?” My eyes drop to his lips. Lips I’ve already tasted, and for which I’m hungry again.

  “Because that’s what we do, and I can’t help it.”

  “We?”

  “No questions.” His voice is soft and seductive. I detect a flicker in his intense eyes. I know that he’s not indifferent to my closeness either. He just won’t admit it.

  A shiver slips down my spine as his fingers twist into my hair. We stare at each other, lips almost touching. I’m scorched by the warmth of his breath. His eyes gleam with lust, but it’s not just carnal; there’s a hidden need for something more profound.

  “Are you looking into my soul?” I ask, pressed by his piercing gaze.

  “Maybe.”

  “And what do you see?”

  “Hope.”

  He catches my head in his hands and brushes his lips against mine. The temptation is too much to resist. His lips are so tantalizing. I close my eyes and gasp, feeling a flicker of desire somewhere around my navel. It quickly ignites, bursting into flames that rage out of control. I can’t take this anymore, and crush my lips against his. Our tongues meet, entwining. I savor his taste. His hands slide down my back; he pulls me close, and I climb onto his lap. The heat of his body draws me like a magnetic force and deprives me of my sanity.

  “Wait,” he gasps, breaking our furious kiss.

  “I can’t wait,” I object, but he grabs a handful of my hair and gently pulls my head away.

  We freeze for a moment. His face expresses a blend of contradictory feelings. He wants to keep going, but something’s preventing him. He’s waging the same inner fight as he did last night. The intense desire hanging in the air is excruciating.

  “I need you,” I whisper. To swing the balance in my favor, I bite his lower lip and roll my tongue over it. As I thought it would, my little trick rids him of any leftover resistance. Wasting no time, Dorian slides his tongue into my mouth. He’s wild and possessive. My body reacts immediately with an explosion of lust. I press against him, receiving more and more voracious kisses. There’s some kind of animal magnetism in him that I can’t resist. He starts kissing my neck; I arch back so that he has easier access to it. His soft, warm breath on my skin makes me tremble. His hands roam up and down my back. I want to be a part of him, and I want him to be a part of me.

  “Let’s go,” he says, breaking away from me for just a fraction of a second.

  We get up, glued to one another; blindly bouncing off everything on our way, we head upstairs. I’ve never been in Dorian’s bedroom before, which triggers an extra pang of excitement in my abdomen. We clear the door; everything here smells like him. The view of the king-sized bed with silk sheets on it perched by one of the walls sets my insides on fire. Even though it’s still light outside, the drawn curtains immerse the room in semi-darkness.

  He closes the door and pins me against it. I strip the shirt off him, anxious to finally melt under the warmth of his skin, and bite my lip at the sight of his naked torso. I slide my fingers down his abs, stopping at his leather belt.

  “You’re perfect,” I say, impressed.

  I’m about to get rid of the necklace as well, but he doesn’t let me touch it, snatching both my wrists and pulling me toward the bed. We strip off our remaining clothes on the way. Every passing second seems like forever. I finally lie down on the bed, feeling the pleasantly cool silk fabric on my skin. I need to melt, become one with Dorian right now.

  He grabs a soft length of material that sits on the nightstand as if it’s been waiting there for a moment like this, ties my wrists with it, and hitches it to the headboard. I can’t go anywhere; it’s too late. I’m subdued, defenseless.

  “Did you like it last night?” he whispers into my ear, triggering a million shivers throughout my body.

  I nod.

  “You’ve seen nothing yet,” he murmurs, and bites my earlobe with a lascivious smirk, filling my body with pure desire.

  Dorian reaches into the top drawer, from which he pulls out a black blindfold.

  “Is that necessary?” I’m not quite certain if I want to try this.

  “Yes, it is,” Dorian replies, blindfolding me.

  “Why?”

  “You’ll understand,” he says, and strokes my cheek.

  I trust him, in spite of the basement incident. For some reason I just know he won’t hurt me physically again. There’s some incomprehensible connection between us that puts me at ease.

  The moment his hands start to wander over my body, warm shivers run through me again, reaching every particle. In darkness, every touch, every kiss, and every caress seem to be more intense. I’m lost in a world of passion, completely surrendered to Dorian.

  When we finally unite, everything loses its meaning. It’s only me and him. Time and space don’t exist anymore. Our souls have merged, our hearts beat in sync; our breaths are combined, our bodies following one passionate rhythm. It’s something much more than just a physical activity. It’s an escape of my soul into a different reality.

  CHAPTER sixteen

  I lie on my back, drained. The blindfold, along with the strip of material that Dorian used to tie me to the bed, is discarded on the nightstand. Dorian leans on his elbow, caressing my stomach, his fingers traveling down toward my belly button and up again to the hollow between my collarbones. He’s focused, contemplating my body inch by inch.

  “You must’ve had a lot of women.”

  “Why?” He doesn’t raise his eyes to me, still watching the reaction of my skin to his touch.

  “Because you read me so well. You know exactly what a woman wants.”

  “Perhaps we’re just perfectly suited for each other.” He drags his finger around my navel in circles.

  “You know it’s not the case.”

  “I do,” he openly admits.

  “You also know where those hallucinations were coming from.”

  “I do.” As he says this, gloom creeps over his face. “How are you feeling now?”

  “You asked me the same question yesterday.”

  “Just answer,” he orders.

  “I’m fine,” I say, and lay my hand on his chest. “Do you regret it again?”

  “I don’t know.” He looks at me. “There’s something about you that confuses me. I’ve never been perplexed like this by anybody before. Whenever I say no, I mean it, but not with you.”

  In a strange way, it makes me feel special for at least this short while. If I’m the only woman that has the power of confusing him and influencing his decisions, maybe I’ll manage to change his mind with regards to revealing his secrets as well? It’s worth taking a shot.

  “Dorian, I know that there’s something you don’t want to tell me about. Don’t deny it,” I add, realizing that he’s about to chime in. “Have you told that secret to anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Rita’s the only one who knows, then?”

  “Yes. She’s my family.”

  “I guess you’ll never tell me, then?”

  Dorian stops caressing me.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  I sigh. “How long do your intense relationships last?”

  “We’re not in one,” he asserts.

  “It doesn’t matter. Just answer.”

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how strong your will is.”

  His response intrigues me. Last night he asked me about the exact same thing. Only when I said my will was infinite did Dorian stop resisting and let himself indulge in our passionate
embrace.

  “I don’t get it. Don’t relationships end when both partners can’t stand each other anymore? What would a strong will even matter when it comes to people’s decision to go separate ways?” I ask, holding my eyes on him.

  “In my case, it has a lot to do with it. More than you think.”

  “That I’m aware of. But can you be a bit more specific?”

  “What I can tell you is that I’m the one who decides when it’s over.”

  There’s a beat of silence before I respond to his words. Instead of clarifying things, he’s just lost me even more. “You? But haven’t you just said that the length of the relationship is up to her strong will?”

  “That’s exactly what I said.” His face crinkles into a smile; he seems to be enjoying confusing me like this.

  “I don’t get anything now,” I say, resigned.

  “It’s better for you that you don’t understand.” He goes back to tracing his fingers all over my stomach. “And you’re cute when you mull over something.”

  “Am I?” I send him a little smile.

  “You have a little wrinkle between your eyebrows that shows up when you’re deep in thought.” He touches the spot. “Right here.” He draws two fingers down to my lips.

  I kiss his fingertips, which he then drags even further down, and say, “I want to know who you are, Dorian.”

  “And I wish I knew who you are.” As he gently presses my breastbone, I quietly hiss; it feels like a light stab. “Does it hurt?”

  “A tad. I’m not fond of this spot. It’s been bothering me lately. I’ve gone to two different doctors before, and both of them told me that it wasn’t anything serious. It’s just a weird birthmark.”

  “Interesting.” He draws a couple of small circles around my strange little lump. “Have you always had it?”

  “Yes.”

  “There are some things that traditional medicine can’t explain.”

  Dorian seems to be silently putting together some thoughts in his head. What would I give to be capable of sinking into his mind for at least several seconds and scanning it to finally really work out who Dorian Hatch is.

  “Will you tell me how many women you’ve been with before me?” I can’t refrain from asking it.