Enthrallment: (Enthrallment Series Book 1)

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Enthrallment: (Enthrallment Series Book 1) Page 23

by Meg Evans


  “I don’t really remember what I was doing.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Dorian has shortened the distance between us to two or maybe three feet. He’s way too close. My hands tremble. A hurricane of conflicting emotions rages through my soul. Longing and fear. Lust and loathing. A desire to be close to him and at the same time as far away as possible. I’m dizzy, unable to tame the growing yearning to be with him, yet the realization of what he really is fills me with dread. I don’t know what to do.

  “Don’t come any closer to me,” slips from my lips.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  “I don’t know…” A cold wall behind me reminds me that there is no escape. “You’re my worst nightmare and most desired dream. I have no idea what to think about you. You can’t be afraid of someone and simultaneously feel lust for them.”

  Time suddenly stops.

  You’re my worst nightmare and my most desired dream echoes in my mind.

  “A nightmare…” I repeat more to myself than to him. I force my brain to a superhuman effort and scour every recess of my mind. This has happened to me before, multiple times. A terrifying fear combined with overwhelming desire for the same person. I eventually solve the riddle that’s been haunting me for weeks.

  “It was you in my dreams.” My facial muscles go slack. “You’re the man who’s been haunting me in those nightmares.”

  “What nightmares?”

  “About the creepy forest. Every time I run through it, I come across this ominous man. I’ve never seen his face because he has a hood on, but I can sense that he very badly wants to hurt me. I’m horrified by him, but I’m kind of… infatuated with him too.” I narrow my eyes. “It is you, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Is that possible that he really doesn’t know? But it all makes sense. He’s the only person who triggers the same reaction in my body and soul as the man from my dreams. I have no guarantee that he’s telling me the truth, but I also can’t help but trust him.

  There is a secret to those dreams that I have to unravel.

  Dorian ignores my request not to come closer. The distance between us is now down to one foot. I’m swamped by his scent; my body tingles as I fill up my lungs with it.

  “You feel fear, but you’re trapped in your desires, too.” He’s so close to me that I can feel the warmth of his body, which has a disarming power over me. “I affect you like a drug; you’re addicted more and more every day. You can’t stop thinking about my touch,” he runs his index finger down my cheek, “my scent, my taste. I’m the first thing on your mind right after you wake up, and the last before you fall asleep.” He keeps going down from my cheek to my neck, then my chest, which is immediately covered with goosebumps. “You aren’t able to focus on anything else but the memories of those moments when we were together, united as one. You’re hungry for more and won’t rest until you get what you crave. You’re ready to do anything to have me again.” I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall; I’m not strong enough to resist him. “You’re fascinated by me, and don’t even realize how slowly but surely I weaken you, how I suck out your life energy, how it slowly gets disconnected and isolated from your etheric body every time you give yourself away. I break all the ties that bind them together. You begin to have difficulties in telling what’s real from what’s not. You don’t know who you are anymore.”

  Keeping my eyes closed, I instantly remember how I felt after the first night I spent with Dorian. So he was to blame for the hallucinations I suffered. I instantly open my eyes. “That was when you began stealing my soul. The process had started…” Tears flow down my face.

  “Forgive me, Zara…” Dorian presses his forehead into mine.

  “That’s what you apologized for that day when you and Rita saved me from Rafael, when I almost passed out in your arms.”

  “I honestly didn’t want you to be one of them, but you didn’t even think about leaving me alone.” As he says this, he grabs me by my shoulders and squeezes them gently as if he’s trying to express how much he regrets what he’s done.

  “Why didn’t you want me to be one of them?” I sob.

  “I just didn’t want you to go through all that, condemn you to such a fate.”

  My eyes are locked on his. I try to blink my tears away, but unsuccessfully; there are too many of them.

  “But why?” My voice is shaking. “Why did you want to spare me?”

  “You’re different. You were from the very beginning.” He wipes my cheek; the spot that he touches prickles. “The way you influence me. The way your presence makes me feel… Those are unknown to me. I can’t even put into words what you do to me. I just… didn’t want that for you, but I couldn’t keep fighting it.” He lifts his eyes to mine again. For the first time I can see something in them. Is that a trace of anguish? Regret? Remorse? It bothers him, what he’s done to me. His expression gives me a pang. I’m genuinely sorry for him, even though I shouldn’t be. I’m the victim here.

  As though he can tell I sense his pain, he pulls away. We remain silent. Some acute, unspecified tension hovers over us. He’s a predator and I’m his prey. Nothing will ever change that. Sooner or later, I’ll end up like the rest of his victims — an empty body, lacking a soul, which will be trapped in some remote place. Maybe even in the depths of hell itself. Perhaps underground, or in some different reality. And he’s the one who will sentence me to that.

  Yet we both know that, even though Dorian has to hurt me—that’s the way the process works—he’s reluctant to do so. He doesn’t want me to share the fate of his other victims. My life is in his hands, but can he save me?

  CHAPTER twenty-six

  Dorian paces the room with his hands behind him. Not a single word escapes his lips. His features are straight, as if someone has erased any emotions from his face. I can’t read anything from him again. He’s deep in thought, contemplating something. I don’t move, glued to the wall behind me. I still don’t know how to react to everything that I’ve learned. I feel disappointment, anger, fear, and longing blended together.

  “If I left, would I be safe? Far away from you?” I gulp air, a knotted feeling forming in my chest.

  “No; you’d be an easy target for others. Plus, you’d go insane without me.”

  The latter I can imagine. Even the mere thought of never seeing him again makes my stomach turn.

  “Will I die, then?”

  Dorian stalls. “Under normal circumstances I’d say yes, but there’s something different about you that I’ve never dealt with before. Perhaps I’m wrong, but maybe… maybe you’re capable of fighting it off.”

  That must be the matter he’s been pondering over the past several minutes—whether there might be something to be done that would keep me alive. He’s never thought about it before because he didn’t care about anyone until now. Am I deluded to think so? Is he deceiving me on purpose? Didn’t he mention to me once that he wasn’t able to feel anything—no love, no empathy?

  “What makes you think so?”

  “For starters, not being able to see your aura. That’s never happened to any thief. But mostly, the evening when you fell from the bicycle.”

  “What about it?”

  “You ended up without a single scratch, whereas a different person would’ve wound up in a hospital with a concussion. You have some power in you, which you’re not even conscious you possess.”

  “That accident wasn’t as severe as it seemed.”

  “You know that’s bullshit. You had a lot of bruises and were bleeding, and no longer than an hour later there was no trace of them. Do you think that’s normal?” He slides me a dark glare.

  “No, I don’t think it’s normal, but…” I really don’t have any arguments to support my theory. Even though I didn’t witness what the accident looked like from a bystander’s perspective, the remnants of my bicycle suggested that it wasn’t just a gentle fall
to the ground. He’s right that it’s not typical for wounds to heal at such a dizzying pace. However, I just can’t entertain the thought that I might have some sort of superhero power.

  “There’s no ‘but,’ Zara,” Dorian says, grabbing my shoulders again. “That miraculous recovery wasn’t accidental. You have a hidden power that not only heals you, but also makes your aura invisible.” I can hear excitement in his voice, maybe even hope.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Have you ever had a similar accident?”

  “Not that I would know of.”

  “You never cut yourself with a knife?”

  “Many times.”

  “Do you have any scars?

  “No.”

  “Exactly.”

  The tears stopped flowing a while ago; now it’s pure astonishment painted on my face.

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” I insist.

  “Have you ever broken anything?” Dorian’s relentless.

  “No…”

  “Twisted or sprained?”

  “No.”

  “Do you still think that doesn’t prove anything?”

  “I’ve always been very cautious.”

  “Right. I don’t think you really believe that.” He lets my shoulders go and shakes his head, clearly irritated.

  I know he must be right, yet I don’t want to believe that what he’s saying is actually true. I’ve never analyzed my life like this before. Does the fact that I’ve never suffered from any form of bodily injury and have no scars or marks really prove that I possess some power that is unknown to me? If so, does it mean that, like Dorian, I’m some weird, inhuman creature and that’s why I affect him in such an odd way?

  “That evening you gave me some sedative.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Where do you get that idea from?”

  “I conveniently dropped off out of the blue when we started touching on an uncomfortable subject.”

  “That wasn’t a sedative. It was Rita.” He turns around, his back to me, and walks over to the window by the fireplace. “She has the power of hypnosis. She made you fall asleep.”

  “She can hypnotize people?” My jaw drops open again. As if the fact that they aren’t human beings isn’t enough, now I find out that they also have supernatural powers. “Can she rummage through people’s minds, then?”

  “Sort of.”

  My eyes narrow in consternation. What else am I going to find out tonight?

  “Does every thief have powers?”

  “Each and every one of them.” Dorian peeks through the window as if he’s making sure that no one is hovering around the cabin.

  “What are yours?” I swallow, praying that it’s not mind-reading.

  Dorian doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moves to the window on the other side of the room, pulls away a dirty, dusty curtain, and scans the area outside with watchful eyes. He must’ve heard or spotted something. Is someone out there? Is that his skill? Sensing people from afar?

  “I,” he wheels around to look at me again, “can absorb people’s energy, manipulate their auras, and take control of someone’s power and use it as my own.”

  My first reaction is a nervous laugh. He cannot be serious. Everything he’s just said sounds ridiculous. I’ve never believed in things that were beyond the scope of normal scientific understanding—but then why am I surprised? Isn’t the sole act of stealing a soul supernatural enough?

  “Did you learn all that by yourself?” My tone is incredulous.

  “It’s in me.” He goes back to staring at the window. “It’s like with human beings—they’re born with certain skills.”

  “Dorian, is there someone outside?”

  “No, why?” He abruptly draws the curtain with one smooth motion.

  “I thought you noticed something outside.”

  “No, it’s nothing,” he says, but I don’t buy it. He ambles around the room again, rubbing his neck. He’s analyzing something, but, as usual, he isn’t willing to share his thoughts.

  A plethora of questions frantically rattles in my head. I’m aware that we must have a limited time to clarify things, but all the things Dorian has been keeping secret from me are like a poison slowly spreading through my system. If I don’t dispel my doubts and reach the truth, my brain will explode under the rising pressure. Among dozens of questions, there is one that can’t go unanswered. It’s been bothering me ever since I eavesdropped on him and Rita for the first time. If this evening is my only opportunity to ask Dorian for explanations, I need to bring it up.

  “I never told you this,” I begin, pulling him from his trance, “but that evening when I passed out on your couch, I actually woke up not too much later and tried to find you and Rita to ask what had happened.” I decide to leave unsaid the fact that I deliberately sneaked upstairs with the purpose of eavesdropping in the first place. “By accident, I overheard your conversation with Rita. I didn’t want to be rude and interrupt, so I waited—”

  “Who are you trying to fool?” he cuts me off.

  I sigh. I’ve already confessed to eavesdropping on them once before; there’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Besides, Dorian apparently has one more skill that he didn’t mention to me—extraordinary lie detection.

  “Okay, you’re right,” I admit. “I’m sorry for being overly nosy, but it doesn’t matter now. What’s significant is what I heard.”

  I watch his reaction for even the slightest sign of annoyance, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered. He only sprawls on the couch where I was sitting a while ago and says: “I’m all ears.”

  My heart urges me to sit beside him, yet my gut does the opposite. Still cornered, I decide to stay where I am.

  “Rita was terrified that someone would find something out. Which, now that I think about it, makes me assume she had your recent guests in mind.” He nods. “When you made an attempt to calm her down, she pointed to something, I didn’t see what, as proof that her fear wasn’t groundless. What was it?”

  Dorian hesitates for a moment, as though wondering how I’ll take what he’s about to say. He grasps the pendant that he never parts with and that nobody is allowed to touch and says: “She pointed out the number on this.”

  “The number?” I repeat, to make sure I’ve got it right. “But didn’t you say that it had no meaning whatsoever?”

  “It has significant importance.”

  “I knew it. Even though you tried to deny it.”

  “You noticed that the number changes,” he says, twiddling it in his fingers, “but you couldn’t know what it reflects.”

  “Will you tell me now?”

  He shifts his eyes from the pendant to me. I observe something in the way his face changes, but I can’t read his thoughts.

  “Are you sure you want to know the truth? It will be irrevocable.”

  “I’m positive.”

  “If I tell you, there will be no going back,” Dorian insists, as if he hopes for me to change my mind.

  “Tell me.” I hold his gaze, unblinking.

  In spite of my brave words, my stomach quivers and my breathing quickens. Panic wells within me. He’s going to tell me something devastating—maybe even something that will change the way I perceive him forever. Perhaps I need him to do so. I can’t live in constant doubt; the worst truth is better than endless delusions.

  Dorian lingers over the revelation, but he can’t hold it off forever. He pulls in a breath. “The number on the pendant shows the number of the stolen souls.”

  “Wait, wait, wait… But your number is…” I turn my memory back to the last time I had a chance to take a closer look at Dorian’s pendant. “2002…” I mumble. “Does it mean that you… You…” I don’t let that thought come out of my mouth, as though it will come true the second I utter it.

  “Yes. It means exactly what you think.”

  The world stops. My breath gets trapped in my lungs. I raise my hand to my temple and shake my head. My lips
move, but words refuse to form. I can’t even imagine such a huge number of people whose lives have been taken. I wasn’t prepared for this revelation. When Dorian told me what thieves do, somewhere in the back of my head it dawned on me that he must’ve taken more than one life. Nevertheless, the number 2002 far exceeds my tolerance.

  “Oh my God…” My knees are too weak. I can’t take it anymore and drop to the floor, where I lean my back against the wall again, pull my legs to my chin, embrace them, and start to tremble. I’m not certain what emotion is dominant. Fear? Disgust? Distress? Something that I have no doubt about is that Dorian is a cold-blooded monster, and that thought makes me nauseous.

  “You’re a murderer!” I rasp.

  He stares at me with a frightening stillness. “I’ve been telling you that you didn’t want to know what I was. I tried to assure you that it was better for you to stay away from me.” He stands up from the couch.

  “Don’t you dare come any closer!” I scream. Dorian pauses, but keeps his eyes locked on me.

  Dread builds in my veins. I remain dazed, unable to move even my toes. It takes a good while for me to regain my senses. I have to cool down and collect my thoughts. After all, Dorian is still the same man (or creature, or thing, or whatever he is) that I’ve known for over a month. But how can I treat him the same way as I have been after this confession? I’d have to be ruthless to get over what he’s done and pretend that everything’s back to normal. That I’m not aware of the crimes he’s committed.

  The avalanche of emotions that slides through my soul annihilates all my feelings, one by one, leaving me empty. I feel like someone has ripped my heart out of my chest.

  The silence between us stretches forever, but Dorian doesn’t insist on continuing our dialogue; he waits until I’m ready to talk again.

  “Why was Rita so concerned about the number on the pendant?” I ask, my voice flat.

  “You don’t want to know the truth.”

  “I do.”

  “If you find out, I guarantee, you won’t be able to cope with it.”

 

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