When Morgan is done creating her masterpiece, I almost don’t recognize myself. My creamy skin looks flawless and my gleaming hazel eyes are accented by shimmering kohl. My lips are perfectly pouty and glossed and my onyx hair cascades in soft ringlets down my back. I smile my approval and Morgan hands me a glass of the champagne that she’s expertly popped without alarming my parents. We toast to my birthday and her hard work and then head out to conquer the night.
We step into the lounge bar, surpassing the line of waiting customers huddled together trying to keep warm in the frigid night air. It’s March so the temperature is still quite low, plummeting as soon as the sun sets. Of course, Morgan knows the doorman and he lets us right in. We bound up to the hostess station where we are escorted to a VIP table behind a red velvet rope. When Morgan goes out, she goes all out! Chilled champagne and glasses are stationed at the little table centered between plush leather couches. The lounge is draped in rich jewel tones and emanates a sexy Middle Eastern vibe. The lighting is a dim rose tint and I instantly sway my hips to the sensual tunes bumping from the speakers. The place oozes eroticism and I love it. I try hard not to look overly impressed and dazzled but can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. Already feeling the warm effects from the champagne, I let my steely façade roll down and replace it with a carefree smile. This is my night.
“Morgan, you sure know how to show a girl a good time! Who else are we expecting?” I ask noting the number of glasses at our table.
Right on cue, Jared, his older brother James, and their friend Miguel stroll up. After a barrage of Happy Birthday wishes and hugs, we toast to my official initiation into my twenties. I can’t help but beam as Jared clinks his glass with mine, his green eyes twinkling under the disco lights. I honestly couldn’t imagine celebrating this occasion with anyone else.
Over the next few hours we dance, laugh and drink to our hearts’ content. Between the champagne and tequila shots, my head is swimming and my inhibitions have taken a dive along with my already questionable morals.
I’m rocking my hips to Katy Perry’s “E.T.” when I catch the most magnificent eyes I’ve ever seen from across the room, instantly stopping me in my tracks. They are ridiculously light under long dark eyelashes. His gaze is unyielding, intimidating and almost startling. It’s as if everyone in the club is suddenly frozen in time and he and I are the only two unaltered. I am so entranced by his glower that I hold my breath for what seems like several minutes. Someone taps me and I break free of his hypnotic daze. Only then do I have the privilege to marvel at the rest of him. Dangerously dark hair styled in chaotic perfection halos the most beautiful face, man or woman, I have ever seen. I can see his taut, muscular build even under the long sleeve black shirt and jeans. He isn’t unusually tall yet I can easily see him above the mass of partygoers. Deep set, unbelievably light eyes, full lips, alabaster skin… I swear that I’m gazing upon an angel. Holy shit! And he’s staring at me!
“Oh my God, do you know that guy?” Morgan asks me, following my gawking hazel eyes.
“Um, no,” I reply, trying to sound impassive.
“Are you sure? Because you two have been eye fucking for the past 10 minutes,” she chuckles, a hint of suspicion in her voice. She downs a Patron shot like a pro.
“Seriously, I’ve never seen him before,” I insist, blushing scarlet. I glance back at him and he’s still staring, unmoving. The contrast of his statue-still body with the rest of the rowdy partygoers is strange to say the least. It’s downright unnerving.
“Mmm hmm, sure, Gabs,” she taunts. And just like that she waves him over. My jaw hits the floor and I don’t know whether to run or launch Morgan across the bar. Dammit!
The beautifully daunting stranger strides toward us, never breaking eye contact, not even so much as pausing to maneuver through the crowd. It’s as if people are automatically parting like the Red Sea. In what seems like seconds, the stranger is standing before us, staring down at me as I sink into the plush couch, secretly wishing it would swallow me whole and save me from the blow of rejection that is sure to ensue.
“Hi, um, I’m Morgan and this is my, uh, friend, Gabriella,” Morgan stammers nervously. Perfectly poised Morgan? Nervous? Even she must feel the menacing vibes rolling off him. But I don’t feel scared. I’m…intrigued. Maybe even a bit aroused.
“Nice to meet you,” he nods in her direction, returning his unbreakable glare to me. “Gabriella,” he states thoughtfully, enunciating each syllable. His voice is like warm honey, delicious and sickly sweet.
I sit up and meet his gaze. I don’t back down from anyone, even incredibly scary yet gorgeous men in clubs. I give him my best ‘hard ass’ guise and nod at him rigidly. He regards my stance curiously and furrows his brow, a smile playing on his succulent lips. The change in his expression sends a jolt of electricity between my legs, something I haven’t felt in many moons. I gasp at my body’s uncontrolled impulse and he parts his lips fractionally, silently murmuring something. What the hell?
His face softens and his tense shoulders relax. Only then do I realize that the energetic buzz in our section has ceased and all eyes and ears are on our mystery guest, though he doesn’t seem to notice. He is maddeningly confident and impassive, as if no one else exists. And at this moment, no one does. His mere presence consumes the small space and I swear the air has become unusually dense upon his arrival. He literally takes my breath away.
“I am Dorian,” he states smoothly to no one in particular. Mmmm, Dorian. Even his name melts on the tongue like butter.
“Well, Dorian, please sit with us. Would you like some champagne?” Morgan sputters hastily, trying to regain her infamous Man-eater stance. She pours him a glass without waiting for a reply and holds it up to him. He carefully takes the glass from her and gracefully sits in the space between the two of us.
With Dorian in such close proximity, I am almost positive my heart will beat out of my chest and land in a goopy mess on the dance floor. I refuse to look directly at him for fear that I may freeze under those intense eyes, that I’ve now realized are ice blue. It is the lightest blue I have ever seen. I gulp down my remaining bubbly and smile meekly at him.
“So Dorian, what brings you out tonight? Special occasion?” Morgan questions. Dorian doesn’t answer. He just continues to gaze at me intensely, so she continues. “Hey, it’s actually Gabs’ birthday!” My eyes widen as I literally try to spurt fire from them at her. In an instant, Dorian’s eyes darken, a storm brewing behind the shroud of azure.
“Is that right?” he replies dryly with a hint of boredom. What the hell is his problem?
“Yeah, uh, she just turned 20,” Morgan blurts out when I don’t take the bait and offer any information.
Dorian shifts his body towards mine. He is so bold and sure of himself, it’s weirdly turning me on, and I hate it! I breathe in his intoxicating scent, praying the rise and fall of my chest don’t betray me. His unyielding gaze completely unnerves me yet I can’t tear my eyes from him. I know I should; everything about him is screaming sex and danger. The combination of the two mixed with my weakness for bad boys could very well be my kryptonite.
“Well, Happy Birthday, Gabriella,” he breathes.
Dorian brazenly takes my hand in his and strokes it gently, leaving a trail of icy tingles where his long fingers meet my skin, causing an involuntary gasp to fall from my wanting lips. He then brings it up to his face and lets his dazzling blue eyes close as he inhales the inside of my palm deeply. When they reopen, his pupils dilate and flash momentarily, his eyes becoming so light that they appear almost white for a split second. What the…? He then lets his full lips brush the back of it, again causing the warmth between my thighs to quiver. Then in one swift movement, he’s on his feet again.
His touch is…odd, to say the least. Beguiling. The intense tingling sensation almost stings my hand but it’s strangely pleasurable. I’m panting, unable to form an intelligible response, and realize that I haven’t said anythi
ng to him at all! He bows his head slightly and then retreats to the exit, disappearing from my sight, leaving me a panting, blubbering mess.
“What the hell was that about?” Jared asks suddenly sitting next to me. I didn’t even notice the movement. “Mr. Stanger Danger looked like a serious mental case. One of your friends, I assume, Morgan?” he jibes.
“No, but I damn sure wouldn’t mind if he was! Damn! He was sexy as hell!” she shrieks. “He only had eyes for Gabs here though,” she winks at me.
“Well, dude looks like an ultimate creeper. I get a bad feeling about him. Hey, maybe he’s the Icepick Murderer! Gabs, you better watch out!” Jared jokes, though I don’t return his playfulness.
I try to enjoy the rest of my birthday celebration though my heart is just not in it. I can’t stop thinking about…him. Dorian. I’ve only just met him yet he has already claimed space in my slightly inebriated mind. The way he touched me was unlike anything I have ever experienced. And though the gesture was modest, chaste even, I feel as if he has exposed me- stripped me bare and naked with just a simple touch. I know I should be disturbed by my muddled feelings but I am anything but. I’m fascinated; downright intrigued.
After calling it a night and I am finally in the confines of my messy bedroom, I have to convince myself that I didn’t just imagine it all. I touch my hand to my face; it just barely still tingles and I savor it, reminding myself that I was face to face with the most beautiful creature alive. I giggle dizzily and flop back onto my full size bed, landing on a box that crushes under my weight. How did I not see this? It isn’t wrapped but has just a simple red ribbon tied around it. Tucked under the ribbon, is a handwritten note from my mom, Donna. I force myself to sober up to read it.
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Gabi,
Now that you are old enough to understand, we feel you should have this. Read it. Form your own opinions and do what you think is right. We understand that you may have questions and your father and I will do everything we can to answer them. We know that you can handle anything; you are so strong and resilient. We sincerely hope that you don’t hate us for keeping this from you all these years but you have to understand… this was a very time sensitive matter. It’s difficult for us to explain to you so please, just read before you make any hasty decisions and I hope you can forgive us for our concealment.
We will love you always, no matter what you decide.
Mom
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Hmmm, ok. That’s strange, to say the least. I snap the red ribbon, suddenly feeling solemn and eager to know what information could lie inside. I hold my breath as I remove the crushed top of the box and exhale when I see the brown, leather bound book. Feeling silly at my angst, I open up the aged book, revealing a letter written to me on the first page. Anxiety again floods the pit of my stomach and I focus on the faded words scrawled on the yellowing page.
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My Dearest Gabriella,
If you are reading this, you have reached your 20th birthday. I am so happy for you yet so incredibly sorry that I cannot be there to commemorate this day with you. I can only imagine how bright and beautiful you are. I want you to know that you were born out of immense love. Love so deep that it is worth dying for. You were born to be an incredible force. I know it may not seem like it now, but you will change the course for countless lives in the near future. Because of this, my child, it is important for you to know exactly what great responsibility this entails. In these pages, you will find the story of your past and your present. Only then can you write the story of your future. You are more valuable than you could ever know, believe me my sweet child. And giving birth to you has been my greatest honor. I love you so much. Thank you for choosing me.
Love always in this life and the next,
Natalia
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What. The. Fuck.
It’s from my birth mother.
Chapter Two
My heart races at a dangerously rapid pace as I try to digest the words I have just read on the aged paper. What? All this time, not knowing who I was and the answers were here all along? So many times I felt lost, alone and abandoned and my parents could have eased that pain. They watched me fight my way through school after school and then come home and empty my tears onto my pillow. I don’t even know my nationality, for Christ’s sake!
Suddenly I’m furious to the point where I’m clenching my jaw until it hurts. I look down at my shaking hands as I let the book tumble onto the comforter. Instinctively, I stroke the area that was just kissed by the elusive Dorian and a shiver runs up my spine. I try to shake the feelings of anger and take my mom’s- well Donna’s- advice and read. There’s got to be a good reason why they kept this from me for the past 20 years. At least there’d better be. Reluctantly, I pick up the journal and flip to the second page, afraid yet eager for answers.
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I know you must have many questions and may feel as if I have abandoned you. My dear, please know that as I write these words, my heart aches with the knowledge that I cannot be with you in this life. You are everything to me, my heart and soul, and I will sacrifice all that I am to protect you.
In order for you to understand exactly what this sacrifice entails, let me start from the beginning…
You were born into an ancient lineage of Light Enchanters. We are Sorcerers. We have been known by many names, good witches, wizards, etc. but we prefer Enchanters to separate us from other types of soothsayers. Our magic is one of the oldest and purest forms ever known and one of the most secretive. Do not be confused with modern society’s perception of magic. Our power lives within us and cannot be acquired through chants, pentagrams, and potions.
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WHOA. My head is spinning and my stomach curdles with nausea. The saliva in my mouth feels thick, my skin clammy and hot. I bolt for the bathroom outside my door and make it just in time to heave my dinner and drinks into the commode. Slinking onto the floor, I rest my sweaty forehead onto the cool porcelain of the bathtub. None of this makes sense. I expected my birth mother to be some reckless teenager, maybe even a drug addict. That I could wrap my head around. But she’s some kind of Sorceress? How is that even possible? I immediately imagine pointy hats, long flowing robes and flying broomsticks. Get the fuck outta here.
As if the night could get any more ridiculous, I break out into hyena-like laughter, cackling until large salty tears run down my face. I’m not sure who would play such an evil trick but I’m sure I’m getting Punk’d. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ashton jumped out from behind my shower curtain right now.
Once the wave of nausea subsides, I pick myself up, brush my teeth and wash off my smeared makeup before retreating back to my bedroom. Realizing I’m still dressed in the lace mini dress, I peel it off and slip on an old pair of sweats and a tank top then casually pick up the book as if it were some Clearance Bin cheesy romance novel.
I have nothing to fear. I don’t feel supernatural. And there’s never been anything magical about my life, that’s for damn sure. I’ve never been good at anything. Ever. Wouldn’t I exude some kind of extraordinary ability in sports or be able to move things with my mind or something? This is surely some hoax or I’m a whole lot drunker than I thought. I open up the book, determined to prove myself right.
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I know this a great deal to take in and you may doubt the validity of my words, so let me begin by telling you about the history of our people. From the beginning of time, the struggle between good and evil has always been prevalent. The fighting was brutal and innumerable lives were lost. Both sides, we Light Enchanters and those we call Dark Ones, or Warlocks, were in imminent threat of becoming extinct. Though we are immortal, we can be killed or frozen in time by magic. See, while most people roam the Earth unaware and unseeing of the truth, we were created to help, heal and spread Light. I’m sure that even in your society, there are stories of amazing people who accomplish extraordinary things, things
that can’t be explained by science or logic. Each of those remarkable people had the spark in them, whether they knew it or not.
But there were some so hungry and consumed with power that they broke away, deciding that they could command their destiny. It was much easier to use magic to gain riches and power than live humbly and do good works. In the process of combatting their greed, we, too, became consumed with the taste of vengeance. So we were scattered and forced into hiding by the Divine Power. We formed our own social orders and cultures. The Dark Ones used their magic to gain affluence and authority, even in the human world. You would be horrified to know how many Warlocks possess significant status in government and religious branches. They have the ability to control the thoughts and emotions of mortals and use it freely. They are also known to be incredibly alluring, desirable and beautiful to human eyes.
Our people, the Enchanters of Light, feel more comfortable in nature. It speaks to us and gives us energy. We choose to blend in with human society by seeking humble roles that do not draw attention to us and our abilities. Many of us settle into positions as teachers, counselors and doctors, though some have been assigned in positions of power in your world. We place ourselves in situations where our gifts would be most useful. The modern day miracles you may learn about on television or read about in newspapers are actually the works of the Light.
My role as an Enchantress is a hunter. Our ancestors have been hunters since the birth of our kind. What we hunt are not animals, per say, but those who choose to do our kind harm. We hunt the Dark. We, too, can appear to be desirable and attractive to humans, but most importantly, we are fashioned to appear that way to the Dark. They find us, the hunters, irresistible and cannot control their urge to be near us. That is how we lure them. Then kill them. We are also incredibly strong, fast, and skilled in weaponry.
However, war and hatred has diluted not only our powers but also our resolve. I was incredibly gifted and determined as a hunter. The taste of Warlock blood completely consumed me and I wanted nothing more than to see them dissipate. Dark Hunters are nomadic so I lived an isolated life, scouring the earth alone in search of the next kill.
Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) Page 2
