“What? I don’t know.” I rack my brain, trying to recollect the date, chewing my lip until it hurts. “Um, a couple months, I guess.” Yeah, that’s right. Dorian was trying desperately to convince me that he didn’t care, that the blood didn’t bother him. As extremely difficult and physically painful it was to deny him, I refused, opting to engage in…other activities to keep us both satisfied.
“Oh my God, Gabs! You’re pregnant!” she exclaims. I instantly shush her but her shocked expression and flailing arms say it all.
“No, I am not, Morgan.” Right? Shit. Has it really been that long since my last period?
“Holy fuck, Gabs, I think you are! Come on, I think I have an emergency pregnancy test in my room.” She exits in a flourish to find said test and I dash to the bed where Dorian is already sitting up, wearing only a solemn expression.
“Did you hear what she just said?” I whisper almost embarrassed at the thought.
Dorian nods. “You aren’t though, little girl. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad. I didn’t really think I was anyway,” I mutter, a hint of sadness in my voice.
I’m definitely relieved yet part of me grieves for the babies that will never grow in my womb. The realization that I will never be a mother, will never share life with another being, pummels me. I never truly thought about having children until I found someone I wanted to spend my life with. And accepting that I will never give Dorian sparkling blue-eyed, raven-haired babies knocks the wind right out of me. Will my love be enough to placate him? Knowing that I can never give him an heir?
Dorian leans forward and leaves a single chaste kiss on my forehead as I try to fight a wave of fresh tears. Before he can invoke any further emotion, I flash him a manufactured smile and quickly exit the bedroom, hoping to mollify Morgan with a negative pregnancy test and put all talk of motherhood and babies to rest.
By Sunday, I am over the pregnancy scare but deem it necessary to discuss my dilemma with Donna, the only mother I have ever known. She has prepared a roasted chicken with spiced sweet potatoes and sautéed green beans for our weekly family dinner and I have opted to watch her cook in hopes that some of her culinary skills will rub off on me. No use in making myself totally un-wifely.
I take a sip of the crisp white wine that Chris has poured for us before escaping to the living room to watch football. This is as good a time as any to broach the sensitive subject. “Hey Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Sure honey,” Donna replies, basting the golden brown bird.
“Is it normal for me to not have a period? I mean, without being pregnant?”
Donna looks up to meet my awkward gaze. This is the first time I’ve ever alluded to being sexually active, though I’m sure she knows that I am no angel. “I’m so sorry, Gabi. It’s starting. The process. The curse is changing you. To ensure you don’t procreate.”
“So it’s final? I’ll never have children? There’s nothing that can be done?”
Maybe I wasn’t over it entirely. Not only has the man I love professed to never marry me, I can’t even have a child of my own. And though I honestly have no plans of starting a family any time soon, the revelation that I will never have one truly breaks my heart.
“Nothing that we can do, no. As far as any other forces, I’m not entirely sure.” Donna drops the utensil in her hand, realization setting in. Her face becomes frighteningly pale. “Is this about Dorian? Does he want you to give him a child?”
I shake my head furiously, hoping to ease her worry. “No. He knows I can’t have children and he’s fine with that.” I look away to hide my unresolved sorrow. “It’s not like he’d marry me anyway.”
Donna reaches over and sets her petite hand on my shoulder. “Oh honey. He can’t. Not if he wants to save you. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but he’s doing you a favor, you’ll see.” She cradles my face in both of her small hands. “One day you will find a wonderful young man that will love you for who you are. And you’ll be happy. And lead a long, wonderful life full of love and laughter.”
I try to find the words to tell her that Dorian is my happiness. That he and I are anchored for life. But what does that mean exactly? That I am aligning with the Dark? That I will pledge my allegiance to them, vow to fight for them? I try to squelch my confusion with a swig of my wine.
“What’s that?” Donna asks, pointing at my hand.
“What?” I ask, though I know exactly what she is referring to. The mark Dorian gave me.
She takes my hand, inspecting the little blue anchor. “You got a tattoo? When?”
“Um, a while back. I’m surprised you hadn’t seen it.” Crap. Though I hadn’t gone so far as to wear gloves whenever I came to visit, I wasn’t exactly trying to flaunt it either. “Dorian gave it to me,” I tack on as an afterthought.
“You let him mark you?!” she shrieks. “Oh dear, what have you done?”
Sheesh, melodramatic much?
“It’s no big deal. Just a little tattoo. He has one too.”
Donna chews her lip, something obviously eating at her. She drops her eyes and steps forward a bit. “Honey, I think there’s something I should-”
“Ok, it’s halftime. Please tell me dinner is ready. I’m starving!” Chris stampedes in, appearing to have had a couple beers. Judging by the roars and jeers, his team is winning. I give him a bright smile, genuinely thrilled to see him so laidback. Finally things are headed in the right direction with us and I long for the closeness we once shared.
“Sure is, Dad. Let’s eat!” I exclaim beaming. And while I am not totally ignorant of Donna’s doubts, I can’t find the strength to ingest any more revelations.
***
The next afternoon, Carmen informs me that Dorian has left a message for me to come to Luxe to see him right away. I quickly slather on a fresh coat of lipgloss, eager to see Dorian and curious as to what has brought him to the salon. He hardly ever goes there and truly has no interest in the cosmetology industry. I walk the block or so towards Luxe, the brisk mountain air causing me to pull my leather jacket around me. Many of the shops and restaurant are displaying whimsy Halloween decorations and I make a mental note to pick some up for Cashmere at a party supply store.
As I approach the salon, a chilling sensation rips through me, causing me to shiver violently for a spilt second. Goosebumps prick every inch of my skin and I pull my jacket tighter around me, unable to shake the unexpected, gripping cold. I can feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. Sheesh, talk about a case of heebie-jeebies. Could someone be watching me? I quickly scamper into the salon, anxious to find solace in Dorian and inform him of my suspicion.
“Hey Gabs, what’s up?” Morgan inquires, looking over her shoulder as she finishes up with a client.
“Dorian called me. Said he needed to see me.” I glance back over towards the door, still feeling on edge.
“Dorian? He isn’t here today.” Morgan then removes the black cape from her client and spins the chair around. “There you go, sir. Now you look even more handsome, if that’s even possible,” she gushes.
As my eyes fall on the dashing man sitting before me clad in a dark tailored suit, I fight the blood-curdling scream building in my throat. He smirks, his gleaming blue eyes scanning the length of my body hungrily.
“Hello, Gabriella. How lovely to see you again,” he says coolly. His words sound muffled, muted by the rapid pounding of my heart vibrating in my ears.
I open my mouth to fashion a response, aware that Morgan is looking between the two of us clearly perplexed. Shit. What do I say?
“Hello, Stavros. What brings you to Luxe today?”
The Dark King smiles menacingly, and as devilishly handsome as he is, I can’t help but feel nauseous with terror. “Oh, just thought I would stop by. And I wanted to see you.” His voice is smooth yet assertive, not unlike his son’s. Dorian. Where is he?
My eyes flicker to Morgan who is bursting with confusion. Noticin
g the anxiety and alarm etched on my face, Stavros casually holds up his hand, causing everyone and everything in the salon to abruptly freeze before my eyes. I can’t believe it; every person is unmoving, totally frozen in time where they stand. Morgan is still staring at me, her eyes narrowed in puzzlement. She looks like a wax statue of herself, along with the other stylists and patrons of Luxe. Unreal. My eyes grow wide with horror, and I open my mouth to scream, praying that someone somewhere will hear me.
“Careful, young lady. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Snap of my fingers is all it would take to end everyone in here. I do not wish to harm you or your friends. I only want to talk.”
“Where’s Dorian?” I croak mustering every ounce of courage left in me. I am trembling yet I give him a steely gaze, refusing to let him see me ruffled. I am screaming, fighting within, struggling to maintain my composure. Oh my God! What the hell is happening?
“My son will be along shortly.” Stavros stands, buttoning his suit jacket, his smoldering eyes never leaving mine. “I only wish to speak with you. If you would do me the honor of taking a walk with me, the humans in this salon will not be harmed.” He extends the crook of his arm to me.
“And they’ll go back to how they were?”
“Yes. You have my word.” Stavros drops his arm and instead extends his hand. “Please.” I look down at it then back up to meet his eyes, my glare hard and unforgiving. “You know you want to. It’d make us both feel better,” he smiles, flashing a row of gleaming, white teeth.
“I’ll walk with you. But keep your hands to yourself.”
Turning on my heel, I stalk out of the salon, willing my shaky knees to keep me upright. His footsteps are silent yet I know he is right behind me. I can feel him. Where the hell is Dorian? Can’t he sense my anxiety?
I lead Stavros away from the salon, my arms wrapped around me tightly. It suddenly seems much colder than it was just minutes before and I am overly aware of the pulsing current crackling in the space between us. Once we have reached a grassy clearing hosting a few park benches, I stop and turn to him abruptly.
“Ok, you wanted to talk. So talk,” I say tersely.
“Relax, Gabriella. Have a seat,” Stavros says, unbuttoning his suit jacket and gracefully folding his tall, broad frame onto a bench. He looks up at me and smiles, looking mouthwateringly suave. I sit at the other end of the bench with a huff, knowing exactly what his game is. “Now, first thing’s first. You sent back my gift. Why?”
My head snaps to him and I frown, despite the flutter deep down in my stomach. Now that I see him up close, I notice that he looks younger than I initially thought. Glossy raven hair, glittering blue eyes, and tan olive skin. A more refined, polished version of Dorian. Classically handsome yet sinfully sexy. Shit.
“I didn’t want it,” I mutter.
“Oh but I think you do want it. Don’t let your affections for my son dissuade you from the things you really want in life. Things that I can and will provide.” I see the pink of Stavros’s tongue as it glides across the top of his teeth, causing my breath to hitch involuntarily. “And unlike my son, I won’t make you work for it. If you were mine, I’d give you anything you wanted. Not hire you as my employee,” he scoffs.
“But I like to work. It keeps me busy,” I say meekly. I clear my voice and try to square my shoulders. Stay strong, Gabs. “And besides, I think you do want me as your employee. Just in a sick, twisted way.”
Stavros’s full lips curl downward as if he is considering the validity of my statement. “Believe what you wish, but you don’t recognize the real villain here. I won’t deny my intentions, as depraved as you may view them, but at least I am honest. Can you say the same of your beloved?”
Is he serious? “Are you trying to say that I shouldn’t trust Dorian? Knowing that he can’t lie? And weren’t you the one who cursed him in the first place?” I glare at him through the narrow slits of my eyes. He has successfully pissed me off. “I trust him wholeheartedly. He could have killed me months ago. And he hasn’t tried to mind-fuck me without my consent.”
Stavros blinks rapidly, his gaze heating with rage. I can literally feel the inferno brewing under his impassive guise. I’ve hit a nerve. Just as I think he is about to unleash his darkness on all of downtown Colorado Springs, he smiles. “Gabriella, you slay me,” he remarks, obviously amused. “Judging by your most recent show of devotion, I’d say he has most certainly earned your trust.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
The Dark King reaches towards my right hand and I quickly pull it back, refusing to let him touch me. He smirks and cuts his eyes at me. “I won’t hurt you, Gabriella. I don’t like repeating myself. I was referring to your tattoo. You let him mark you.”
Reflexively, I rub the tiny blue anchor and hold it close to my chest. “Yeah, so what?”
Again, Stavros flashes his dazzling, heart-stopping smile. “Maybe I’ve underestimated my son. Maybe he is living up to his potential.” He makes a bemused face at the notion and shakes his head. “Moving on. I’ve come to inform you that I have lifted the order. Dorian is no longer obligated to kill you.”
What?! “You have?”
Stavros nods. “Yes. I want your allegiance more than anything I have ever wanted to acquire, I must admit. But I want it sincerely. You will be free to choose.”
“Seriously?” I shriek, failing to mute the sheer elation in my voice. “And you won’t kill Dorian for failing to assassinate me?”
“No. I don’t relish the idea of murdering my own son, Gabriella,” he replies with an edge to his voice. Remorse flashes in his eyes. Maybe the Dark King isn’t as monstrous as I initially thought.
I take a deep breath and ask the question that has been gnawing at me since we sat. “And if I choose the Light? Then what?” I whisper.
Stavros shrugs nonchalantly as if he is bored with the notion. “Then I suppose that we will belong to opposing forces. You must know what that will mean for you and Dorian. How that will affect your relationship. Especially now that you are marked.”
I digest his words but refuse to give anything away. “Thank you, Stavros. I really do mean that.”
“It is my pleasure, Gabriella. Also, I am aware that there is murderer on the loose. I can assure that I have nothing to do with it and would like to provide a bit more protection for you. My son is efficient enough but I don’t want to be careless with your life while you are still so vulnerable.”
“Is that right?” I ask unconvinced. “And what’s in it for you?”
“Nothing at all,” Stavros replies. “I only want to keep you safe. Being that you are half Dark and I am king, it is my duty to ensure that my people are taken care of. Now shall we head back?” he says, suddenly standing, again extending the crook of his arm. “I know my son will be anxious to see you.”
I stand and exhale with relief, appeasing the Dark King by linking my arm through his, careful to avoid contact with his skin. “Yes, please.”
“Ah, Gabriella. You are quite a gem. Your essence is simply hypnotic. How does my son resist you?”
I let myself smile genuinely for a beat. “He doesn’t. I let him…breathe me… sometimes.”
“Oh? Interesting,” he remarks as we make our way down the shopping district.
“Can I ask you a question?” I say, finally deciding to bite the bullet. When Stavros nods, I continue. “You came and helped Tammy. You reversed the petrification. Why?”
The king cocks his head to one side, just like his son does when he is lost in deliberations. “Because it needed to be done. She needed help.”
“But…why? Considering what you are? Why risk it for a human? There’s got to be something in it for you.”
“We are not demons, Gabriella. I see the Light influence has already poisoned your mind. They, too, could have intervened and done the very same thing. Yet, where were they? Where have they been the last twenty years?”
He stops walking a
nd turns to me, regarding me intensely. It is the first unguarded show of emotion he’s allowed me to witness. “We’ve been there, Gabriella. The entire time. Through every fight, every disappointment, every night you stumbled home in a drunken stupor, we were there. We’ve protected you when the Light chose to abandon you, and we protect you now. They see you as an abomination. We see you as the goddess that you were meant to be.”
His earnest admission stops me up short. His words seem so sincere; have I been wrong about the Dark all along? Are the Light truly as self-righteous as Dorian believes?
“Then why did you want to kill me?” I whisper. I clear my throat, hoping to appear more aloof. “And why would they ignore me all these years if they are hoping I would help them?”
Stavros shrugs and shakes his head, proceeding to make his way towards the salon. “We are all somewhat ruled by our fears, our irrational feelings. I acted callously. Forgive me. And while I cannot speak for their motives behind abandoning you, I would assume it was for the same ignorant reasons I felt you needed to be destroyed.”
I choose to ignore his apology, somewhat skeptical of his candor. “Do you know who spelled me? Who made me…this way?” I ask weakly.
“I do not.” Stavros looks at me quizzically.
“So there is no way to reverse the curse?”
Before Stavros has the chance to answer, we both glimpse Dorian flying out of the salon’s doors. The look on his face is beyond seething mad and he is tense with anger, his hands rigid and stiff at his sides. The air visibly shimmers around him and I can almost feel the heat of his rage though we are several feet away. He gives his father a murderous stare and an audible growl rumbles from his panting chest. I hurriedly unlink my arm from Stavros’s and stuff my hands in my jacket pockets. Shit, busted. Dorian quickly closes the distance between us in the blink of an eye and forcefully pulls me to his side, away from his father, his vengeful eyes never leaving the smug look on Stavros’s face.
“Temper, temper, my son. We would not want to put a damper on this joyous occasion, now would we? Besides, she could do worse,” he says winking at me. “I bid you farewell, Gabriella. Thank you for spending time with me today.” The Dark King then turns and walks away.
The Dark Prince (The Dark Light Series) Page 22
