Dorian's Destiny: Altered (21 page)

“Uh...sure,” he stammered.

“Well, I was curious, being
raised by a priest, if you've ever kissed anyone?” She bit down
softly on the side of her bottom lip, eagerly awaited his response,
hoping she hadn't overstepped with such a personal
question.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Um.”
The only sound he could force out past the huge lump developing in
his throat.

“I'm sorry, that was too
personal,” she apologized, shaking her head and staring into the
half full red mug clutched in her hands.

“No, it's okay. I agreed. It's just...,” he
looked down, ringing his hands. He considered lying. Saying no and
moving on, but he didn't want to lie, not to her, no matter how
embarrassing the truth might be, “complicated.”

She guessed what he might be about to say,
internally chastising herself for her stupidity.

Of course he's kissed someone, just look at
him. Do you think you're the only girl who’s ever craved contact
with his perfectly kissable lips?

Staring at his mouth
distracted her from her inner tirade. Unfortunately, the images of
countless women, possessing beauty far greater than her, appeared
in her thoughts. All standing at the ready to engage in lustful
longing kisses. Go away she told them and they disappeared. With
the train of buxom beauties, no longer invading her mind, her
attention again returned to his lips, his somber blue eyes, his
chiseled chest, and soon, a much more pleasing image entered her
mind. One with hers and his body far less clothed, intertwined.
Placing a hand on her chest, she checked to see if her racing heart
was still securely encased in her chest. Knowing her skin probably
matched the red of her mug, she was thankful to see him still
glancing at his hands. She hoped there would be no evidence of her
illicit thoughts when he decided to face her again.

“You see...I... The thing
is...,” he stopped and started multiple times. “The sensations,
feelings evoked when consuming, uh, fresh human blood can be
overwhelming, especially when you don't know what to expect. Being
unprepared and new to most of these emotions, I acted impulsively
and...”

She raised her brow, both curious and afraid
of how his explanation would end. Gulping her now cooled coffee,
she attempted to fill her body with its alcohol reversing
goodness.

Raising his head, but not facing his
questioner, he forced out his words. “I kissed Thomas.”

Coffee spewed from her
mouth, while the red mug crashed to floor, splashing its remaining
contents onto her bare legs. She brought her hand to her mouth in a
gesture of shock.

“I was afraid that would be
the reaction I would get if I answered that question honestly,” he
quipped, wiping coffee from the side of his face with his
hand.

“Oh, I am so sorry. Let me get you a towel.”
She rushed to retrieve two towels to clean up her mess. Returning,
she handed one towel to him. Using the couch arm as support, she
wiped the sticky drink from her legs. Once over the shock of
spraying her guest with coffee, she thought about what he had
said.

He kissed a man. Is he
gay? That would be my luck. A gorgeous, interesting guy enters my
life only to turn out gay. No, I'm sure I caught him sneaking
glimpses of my chest and he did say he acted rashly. Besides, a
promise is a promise. You’re not so shallow that you only offered
to assist him in returning to who he was before, because you
thought he was boyfriend material.

Finished with her
self-assurance of his sexuality and her motives, she decided to
jokingly shrug the whole revelation and her reaction off. “Can't
deny your answer to my question surprised me, we're both wearing my
surprise.” She gestured back and forth before rambling in her
nervousness. “To be honest, I hoped for a no. I began to sweat when
you didn't immediately answer, afraid your answer might be some
astronomical number of lovely ladies. While I'm pleased that's not
the case. I'm not sure if knowing my competition is a male vampire
makes me feel better – especially if he resembles you in anyway.
Not sure how I will stack up.”

“You needn't worry,” he reassured, shaking
his head. “It was just once and not well received.”

His last statement did nothing to reassure
her, nor did the fact that he hadn't looked at her since she posed
the question. Her self-assurance from just seconds ago had
vanished. Not only was she concerned about her inability to compete
with someone who could possess the level of attractiveness he
possessed, she struggled with the possibility she had the wrong
anatomy.

Could I have imagined the glances? Wishful
thinking maybe? He wouldn't kiss me, though he said he wanted to.
Was he just being nice? Trying not to hurt my feelings? Maybe he's
just embarrassed, but what if he's not? I have to know before I
embarrass myself further. Be careful, you don’t want to push him
away.

“Dorian, you shouldn't be embarrassed that
you kissed your friend...,” she paused, almost too afraid to seek
the answer that would determine the dynamic of their relationship
from this point on, “or what that might mean.”

“Mean?” he looked at her finally, confusion
in his eyes for a second. “Oh, right.” The tone of his voice
suggested he had stumbled upon something obvious. “You're wondering
if I'm gay.”

She feared she had
overstepped. They hadn’t known each other long. Maybe it was too
soon to discuss such personal private matters. “I...”

“I'm not.” He cut her off. “That evening was
the first time I'd fed on a human, so it's just like I said
earlier. I experienced emotions I'd never encountered before and
Thomas was the only one there.” He thought briefly about
elaborating. Confessing that for quite some time after his sudden
intense attraction to Thomas, he had wondered if he might be gay.
His feelings were so new, never felt for anyone before. If Thomas
hadn't pushed him away, who knows what might have happened. The
pain and embarrassment of Thomas' rejection caused him to bury any
future similar sensations, until he met her.

A sigh of relief escaped her, she couldn't
help it. Her first and foremost goal was to 'save' him, but she
wanted way more than that. “Okay.” She placed her hand on his.
“While I don't understand 'exactly' how you felt, I do understand
how easy it is for a person to act rashly, especially when
'intoxicated'. This evening is a prime example. Not sure that's
even close to what you experienced though.”

He placed one of his hands on top of hers.
“Thanks. I can see similarities between the effects of alcohol and
blood on one's usual behavior.”

“Okay, then there you go. One tends to act
'unusual' when under the influence.” She smiled.

“Yes, I guess they do,” he replied,
returning her smile while gingerly withdrawing his hands before the
sensations always felt by her touch consumed him.

Seeing how tough the question was for him to
answer, she thought it only fair to answer the question herself.
“So, to sum things up, that makes one spontaneous unrequited kiss
for you, zero kisses of any kind for me.”

“Really?”

She blushed insecurely and
bowed her head. “Shocking, I know, when I'm such a pillar of
perfection. Apparently, men don't find petite redheads covered in
freckles attractive.”

He lifted her face gently to gaze into her
eyes. “I find you extremely attractive. In fact, I think you are
perfect.”

“Oh,” she
whispered.

Before he lost his nerve, he leaned in,
pressing his lips softly against hers. Lacking experience and
intending to stick to his word earlier about only kissing her when
he was sure she wanted him too, he kept the kiss short and sweet;
just enough for both to know they wanted more. He reluctantly
pulled away before getting too excited.

“That was nice,” she admitted, though she
had expected their first kiss to be more passionate.

Nervous about his decision to hold back, he
laughed. “At least you didn't push me away.”

“I'd never push you away.”

Those words where all he
needed to kiss her like he truly wanted. Placing his hands gently
on the sides of her face, he leaned in once again. He peered into
her eyes just before their mouths joined for a second time; the
love that resonated in those soothing green eyes astounded him. He
wasn't worthy of her love, yet he craved it above all else. He
finally believed she could save him. When their lips touched, he
felt the transfer of her love. The surplus of love she possessed,
slipped into him as their lips parted. Its affect was like flipping
a switch, allowing light to flood into the darkness of his soul;
filling all the deep crevices that had formed since spilling his
first blood. He was reborn.

The lights of the last city vanished,
replaced by mile after mile of forest. Dorian hadn't realized how
remote his 'human' home was, but seeing the distance stretched out
beneath him showed how far removed he had become physically from
his old life.

How on earth did Thomas
ever find me?
That's a question that will
have to remain unanswered. Leave the past behind you. It doesn't
matter now anyway.

Turning away from the window, he adjusted
the leather seat to lay all the way back. He yearned for sleep,
anything to pass the time. Instead, he remained wide awake, anxious
about his reunion. This was his second time flying, but he lacked
any memory of the first, being unconscious at the time. He probably
would be enjoying this flight if his stomach wasn't a ball of
knots.

Where's an elephant tranquilizer when you
need one?

When he planned this return home, much to
the prodding of a fiery redhead, he had no idea it would require
such a long, miserable plane ride, allowing plenty of time for
thought.

How will father react to
my visit? Will he be happy to see me? Will he still angry and hurt
over my last words to him

The dozens of tiny bottles
filling the minibar called out to him, 'drink me'. The temptation
to ingest all of the mind numbing alcohol, but he knew he would
only delay the inevitable. He would see his father again, whether
in flesh or spirit, and face the consequences of his
goodbye.

He thought back to the conversation that
brought him here, anything to stop his incessant wondering and
worrying.

“Is your father still alive?” Megan asked
during one of the breaks in their kissing.

“I don't know.” Dorian replied, all desire
vanishing instantly, replaced by shame.

She held back the tears threatening to fall
by focusing on her anger. “Dorian, shame on you. You have a father
that I'm sure loves you,” she paused, waiting for him to nod in
agreement, “and you don't know if he's alive?” She rose from the
couch, her anger and sadness making her antsy. “You have to go see
him.”

“We didn't part on the best of terms.” He
reluctantly admitted.

“That’s even more reason to
go. He's your father.” Bowing her head, she whispered sadly, “I
would give anything if I could see mine.”

*****

Standing just outside the door of his
church, shrouded in the darkness of night, he heard his father's
calm, soothing voice inside. Glancing at his watch, he realized his
arrival coincided with the beginning of Sunday night service.
Knowing how long winded his father could be, he decided he had
plenty of time to revisit the woods; another item on his coming
home to do list.

The moon provided ample light for the trek
deep inside the woods; his former place of exile. He chose first to
visit the large oak where ages ago he had desperately attempted to
end his life.

Sadness flooded him as he gazed at the
majestic tree. Kneeling, he caressed the large roots that had
cradled him. He feared finding blood stains, but there were no
signs of his brutal failed suicide.

Being near the place of
his greatest sin, he felt compelled to beg forgiveness. Looking to
the heavens, he pleaded, “Father, I am so sorry for everything, for
desecrating Your Creations, for blaming You for my situation, for
trying to end my life. Instead of trusting in You, I took matters
into my own hands. Can You forgive me?”
Tears streamed down his face as he waited for a sign from his
Heavenly Father.

Feeling Dorian deserved a
sign of forgiveness, God sent him a vision of his suicide from His
Heavenly Perspective. The vision was not for punishment of the sin,
but for understanding.

With a tug at the base of
his neck, his body lifted from the ground. Hovering above his
previous position, he looked down on his own image nestled
comfortable in the roots. “Father,” he called out frantically,
frightened and confused by his displacement. He watched himself
pull out the knife to mutilate his own body, escalating with each
failed attempt to free himself from his curse.

“Why show me this?” He
asked, trying to look away from the gruesome scene of his own
suicide played out before him. Not able to do so, he was forced to
witness every second of the self-inflicted agony. “I know the
outcome,” he sighed, fighting against the invisible hand holding
his head still. An intense sadness consumed him unlike anything he
had experienced. Sobbing uncontrollable, he squeezed his eyes shut
and pleaded, “Please Father, make it stop.”

When he opened his eyes,
he was no longer looking upon himself from above, but back in his
own body still caressing the large roots of the oak. A gentle
breeze whirled round him, bringing with it understanding of why he
was forced to endure the vision of his own demise. Wiping the tears
that still streamed down his face, he again looked to the heavens.
“I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused to You. I thought You had
forsaken me when the truth
was only me who
had forsaken you.” The same breeze wrapped around him, this time
bringing peace.