Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (30 page)

“How can you not believe in magic? Science and logic can’t explain everything. You’ve heard of those people that can move objects with their minds? Or can see things that others can’t because they have unlocked a dormant part of their brain, right?”

“Yes,” I say cautiously. Where is he going with this?

“What if I told you that it had nothing to do with their brain function? That they were simply destined to do those miraculous things?” Dorian’s eyes are wild with excitement. He brings my hands up to his mouth to gently kiss my knuckles. “Magic brought us together. Can you explain it any other way?”

I’m baffled. This is the most impulsive, illogical, and animated I have ever seen Dorian. But I know what he’s saying is true, as ridiculous and far-fetched as it sounds. I shake my head nervously, knowing I should shut this down right now. This conversation has gone far enough. Talking like this will only get us both killed. But I can’t help myself; I need answers. And Dorian appears only too forthcoming at the present time.

“Dorian, what do you know about Haitian Vodou?” 

Dorian furrows his brow and cocks his head to one side. He shrugs. “It was birthed by Africans enslaved by the French. They worship different deities, one in particular though. Mostly it’s a bunch of chanting and dancing, though it got a bad reputation by some more extreme followers. It’s pesky; I’ve known some that have pissed off the wrong Vodouists and had a real headache on their hands,” Dorian chuckles. This is the most lighthearted I have seen him, even considering the serious nature of our conversation. “Best to avoid them at all costs. They’re not worth the trouble. That kind of magic is unnatural.”

“How do you know all this, Dorian?” I ask suspiciously. 

He shrugs with nonchalance. “Common knowledge.”

Our entrees arrive before I can ask any more questions, though my appetite has dissipated. All I can think about is the mass of information I have learned over red wine and breadsticks. Dorian is saying so much yet it can be misconstrued as casual conversation. Should I look at it as such? Is he just making small talk? Surely, if he was affiliated with either the Light or the Dark, he would not provoke me. He would be aggressive, murderous even. Dorian wants me to trust him. He wants me to know him. He wants me to love him. 

“Since you brought it up, tell me about your friends, Gabriella.” Dorian says with a smile. 

Geez, he’s in a good mood today. I don’t see why; the light drizzle has transformed into a torrential downpour. There goes my perfectly flat ironed hair.

I perk up into a cheerful grin. Finally, something I can comfortably discuss. “Well you’ve met Morgan. She’s fabulous. Poised, beautiful, loyal to a fault. A bit of a spoiled princess but I can handle that. She’s dramatic, pretentious, loud, and sometimes as shallow as a kiddie pool.” I smile genuinely. “Her brutal honesty makes up for it. I like someone who can give it to me straight, no chaser. Makes me respect them more.”

“She sounds like a handful,” Dorian observes, taking a bit of pasta on his fork.

“Oh, that and then some. We’ve been best friends for a few years. An odd couple to most outsiders but we seem to work. We balance each other out. Any time with Morgan is sure to be a blast.”

“And the boy?” Dorian asks. His solemn expression tells me who he means.
Jared. 

I reach for my wine glass and finish its contents in one large gulp. Dorian has promised me honesty. I owe him the same respect. 

“Jared.” I nod my head, confirming Dorian’s thoughts. My eyes stay down on my plate as I recall my most intimate friend. “Jared is probably the one person who knows me the best. He’s caring, funny, easy to talk to. I never have to hide who I am with him. Being around him is soothing. He has one of those spirits, you know? It’s like, when I’m with him, it’s easy to breathe.” I look back up reluctantly to meet Dorian’s eyes. He’s thoughtful, as if trying to make sense of what I’m saying.

“And you love him,” he says simply.

“Huh?” Whoa. How the hell did he come up with that?

“You love him,” he repeats. He isn’t angry; he’s simply stating a fact. A fact that I’ve tried like hell to keep concealed.

In the spirit of honesty, I nod my head slightly. “I thought I did. But he didn’t return those feelings. Not when I needed him to.” 

I’m ashamed. I feel like such a whore, admitting my feelings for another man to the man that I’m sleeping with.
Awkward
doesn’t even begin to sum it up. 

“He loves you too,” Dorian says taking another forkful of his food. He’s still lighthearted, not at all disconcerted. “And you’re wrong; you do hide who you are with him.”

Ok, that’s it. There’s no way I can eat after that. What does he know about my relationship with Jared? And who is he to tell me I’m not being myself with him?

“And you know this, how?” I say with a layer of attitude. There are subjects that are just off limits. Jared is one of them.

“I’ve seen how he looks at you. I’ve seen how you look at him. And how you’ve just described him…It’s not hard to interpret,” Dorian smiles, in spite of my serious glare. “And if you were truly yourself with him, you would have disclosed how you really feel. You wouldn’t be here with me. Yet, here you sit. Because it’s easier to pretend with someone who hardly knows you than to be yourself with someone who loves you for all that you are.”

I stare at Dorian in disbelief, totally thrown by what he’s said. He’s so right. Yet I hate him for bringing my biggest fears and regrets to light. John Mayer plays on repeat in my head, begging for someone to stop this train of life, to slow down so he can return to how things once were. To simpler days of youth and oblivion. It’s all moving too fast for me. I’m not ready to admit who and what I am to anybody. Especially not Jared. His opinion of me is the one that counts the most.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Dorian murmurs.
Seriously?
Is he fucking with me? 

“Dorian, I don’t know what you
think
you may know about me, but let’s get one thing straight.” I push my plate forward, indicating that I’m done with my food and Dorian’s snide remarks. “I am who I am. And what I choose to disclose to
my
friends is
my
business. And if and when I withhold information, it has nothing to do with my comfort. It’s for their protection.

“The people in my life are not disposable, Dorian; they are everything to me. And like it or not, you’re one of those people. I’m not here with you because I am running from my feelings for Jared. If I wanted to be with him, I’d be with him. I’m here with you because I want to be. I actually have feelings for you. Sorry but sometimes my vagina and my heart meet on common ground. But don’t worry; I’m used to disappointment. I get that this is just about sex. Just two consensual adults having fun, right?” 

Dorian gently pats his mouth with his napkin and sets it on the table. He puts down his silverware and pushes his plate away as well. “Gabriella, you think I feel you view me as some consolation prize? Like an alternative to what could have been with your childhood crush? It’s completely the opposite. You are just now living. And you are experiencing this new life with me. I could not be more honored. 

“I see you for
who
and
what
you are, Gabriella. And what I see is truly
beautiful
. You try like hell to mask the truth with this asinine tough girl act but I see right through you.
Dammit!  I see you.
You can’t fool me. I know I could never compete with what you have with Jared and I don’t want to. I just want
you
. I just want to be here. I just want to be where ever you are. Why can’t you see that? Why are you so afraid to
feel
?” 

Dorian looks to me for reaction, and all I can think about is how the hell I am going to swallow down the massive knot in my throat. My eyes are wide and unblinking, because if I blink, fat, salty tears will roll down my flush cheeks. The rapid rise and fall of my chest does nothing to conceal the wave of emotion that threatens to drown me here at this table.

“Um, Dorian, um, I’m sorry, I have to go,” I croak, scurrying out of my seat just as the first tear escapes from my eye. I can vaguely hear him calling my name as I make my way to the door, throwing myself into the pouring rain. 

I dive under the restaurant’s awning in an attempt to stay somewhat dry as tears stream down my face. Seconds later, Dorian appears, furiously searching for me, expecting me to have run away in the torrential downpour. He’s instantly relieved when he sees me leaning against the storefront window, a bumbling mess of sobs.

Dorian hurries to my side, ignoring the rain, and wraps his arms around me tightly. He pulls my face into his chest with no regard for my tear-streaked mascara. He comforts me. After I basically told him to stay out of my business and that I was in love with another man,
he
comforts
me
. 

“I’m so sorry, Dorian,” I sob heavily. I try to get myself under control but my efforts are futile. “I am such a fucking mess! I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m so sorry!”

“Shhhh. Hush, little girl. It’s ok, baby,” Dorian whispers into my hair. “Let me make you better.”

I lift my tear-stained face to meet his, trying to understand exactly what he means. Dorian nods reassuringly and kisses my forehead chastely. He then cradles my face and his azure irises transform into ice blue, almost clear, as he lets them fuse into my hazel eyes. The familiar tingles begin and soon I feel nothing. I hear nothing. I see nothing. But darkness.

It’s pitch-black and I am unsure of where I am. My body is stiff as if I have been lying in the same position for hours. I sit up and try to feel around. The familiar satin comforter indicates that I am in Dorian’s bed. But where is he? And how did I get here? 

Light floods the room and I am momentarily blinded. I raise my hands to shield my eyes, letting them adjust. Once they’ve adapted, I see that Dorian is there with a glass of water.

“Sorry,” he says, walking towards me. “I knew you’d be up soon.” He sets the glass of water on the nightstand and sits on the bed next to me.

“How long have I been asleep?” I ask groggily. I reach for the glass of water and take a long sip. “And how did I get here?” The last thing I remember is crying outside of the restaurant in the rain and Dorian comforting me. Crap.

“You were exhausted so I brought you here and put you to bed. You slept for a few hours,” He strokes my wild hair and gives me a cautious grin.

“You’re wet,” I say observing Dorian’s damp shirt and slick, dripping hair.

“I went for a walk while you were asleep.”

“In the freezing rain?” I ask skeptically.

Dorian shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me.” He strokes my cheek admiringly and I notice how weary he looks. It appears as if he’s aged while I was sleeping. “Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much at lunch.”

The somber memory causes a dull ache in my chest. “No, I’m fine. Dorian, please don’t tell me you’ve been sitting around here waiting for me to wake up.” I look out through the bedroom’s window, out into the darkness. I’ve slept the entire day away.

Dorian shrugs. “It’s ok. I got some work done. Seeing as I played hooky today. And like I said, I went for a walk.”

It’s hard not to feel responsible for Dorian’s dreary appearance. Just hours before he was so vital, so carefree, even in spite of my less than gracious attitude. And now he sits before me, apprehension etched into his hallow eyes. They still sparkle yet they’ve dulled in intensity. His skin looks pale and ashen. 

“Come,” I say, pulling him down into the bed with me. “You look like you could rest. I think walking outside in the rain has made you sick.”

Dorian shakes his head but doesn’t resist when I pull him under the covers and into my arms. He rests his head on my breast, nestling his nose into me and inhaling deeply. Tension rolls off his shoulders when he releases the breath. 

“I’ll be ok soon,” he murmurs with closed eyes. 

I feel horrible for my outburst. I must’ve wounded Dorian, leaving him to wallow for hours while I slept it off. How could I be so callous when all he gave me was complete honesty? I asked for it. Knowing that I am so transparent is unsettling, but that’s not his fault. He could have abandoned me today, yet he brought me here to care for me. What kind of man would do that after learning that my heart is torn between him and another guy? 

“Dorian, I’m so sorry about earlier. You have been so good to me. You didn’t deserve that.” I stroke his cold, damp hair. I wish I could just pour all my warmth into him and heat him from the inside out.

“Are you feeling better?” he mutters into the fabric of my shirt.

“I am. Thank you. I’m more worried about you though,” I say soothingly. My voice comes out in a silky soprano, nothing like my usual raspy tone.

“Don’t be. Being here with you is enough,” Dorian breathes.

“Why do you say that? Why do you think so much of me?”

Dorian lifts his head to meet my questioning gaze. The dark circles around his eyes have begun to fade and his beautiful olive complexion is returning. His crystal blues twinkle brightly. 

“Why wouldn’t I? You are unlike anyone, any woman, I have ever met. And sorry to say, I’ve met a lot of women,” he snickers. Good to see his sense of humor has been restored as well. I smile back at him. “No one has ever moved me like you, Gabriella. I’ve never been so affected.”

“I could say the same about you,” I whisper. 

“That’s why I want you around at all times. I like the way you make me feel. I need it.” His words are desperate yet I understand that type of desperation. I feel it too- the magnetic pull to him. It’s so much more than sexual attraction. It is what sustains us.

I am suddenly filled with restless energy, and get the urge to care for Dorian as he has done for me. He deserves that much. “Come on. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” 

I flip the comforter off of us and shimmy out from under him. Then I leap off the bed and bound to the bathroom. The giant garden tub looks as if Dorian has never used it, opting for the large standing shower instead. The complimentary gift basket still sits by the faucet, filled with an assortment of bath time goodies. After choosing a combination of lavender oil, chamomile scented bath salts and floral scented bubble bath, I begin to fill the tub with hot water. When I turn back around, Dorian is standing in the doorway, stock-still, watching me intently.