Author: S.L. Jennings
Date: 2014-11-18 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Paranormal Romance; Magic; Fantasy; Romance; Erotica; Supernatural; New Adult; Vampires; Adult
Description: Twenty-one years ago, Gabriella's life was stolen from her before it even began. Orphaned at birth and encompassed in a fortress of lies to protect her identity, she never truly understood her purpose on this earth. But now that she has ascended, embracing her destiny, the ghosts of her past have come back to haunt her. Even with insurmountable power running through her veins, part of Gabriella is irreparably broken. And with old enemies working to destroy the tiny shred of normalcy she has left, she'll be forced to face the ugly truth about Dorian, the man she chose to love despite his darkne

Light Shadows

Copyright © 2014 by S.L. Jennings.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Cover: Steph’s Cover Design

Editor: Tracey Buckalew

Proofreader: Kara Hildebrand

Formatting: Champagne Formats

Table of Contents

Also by S.L. Jennings
dedication
before.

one.

two.

three.

four.

five.

six.

seven.

eight.

nine.

ten.

eleven.

twelve.

thirteen.

fourteen.

fifteen.

sixteen.

seventeen.

eighteen.

nineteen.

twenty.

twenty-one.

twenty-two.

twenty-three.

twenty-four.

twenty-five.

twenty-six.

twenty-seven.

twenty-eight.

twenty-nine.

thirty.

thirty-one.

thirty-two.

thirty-three.

thirty-four.

thirty-five.

thirty-six.

thirty-seven.

thirty-eight.

epilogue.

acknowledgments
about the author

Also by S.L. Jennings

The Dark Light Series

Dark Light, Book One

The Dark Prince, Book Two

Nikolai, Novella

Taint

Fear of Falling

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

~Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

IT WAS TIME.

The revolting stench of hatred was palpable, even from miles away. I could taste it in the frigid air and feel it rake against my skin like a bristled, dark cloak. They were coming for us. We knew this day would come, but sitting here, waiting for death to arrive…that was a trick not even I had mastered after centuries on this earth.

I clutched my bulging belly and said a silent prayer, asking for courage and strength for my beloved Alexander, the Dark Warlock who’d captured my heart and freed my soul. His large, tanned hand covered mine as he wrapped his arms around me to cradle our daughter, safely tucked away in my womb. I wanted to remember us like this…together, safe and deliriously in love. I looked up into his endless blue eyes and smiled through the pain of losing him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll never leave you—either of you. We are a family. We’re in this together. This is forever, Nat.”

I nodded, but my agreement was steeped in deception. It had to be. There was no way he and I could stay together; there was no chance of survival for either of us. He knew it too; he just wanted to believe in the illusion of second chances. Those didn’t exist for us. Not after what we’d done.

“Alex,” I whispered hoarsely. “We don’t have much time, my love. You have to go. You have to leave now or you won’t have a chance.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said without a second thought. His voice was thick and rough, emotion squeezing the air from his chest. “I will wait here with you and our daughter. There’s no way I’m abandoning my family. You’re all I have.”

He squeezed my body tighter, burying his head into the crook of my neck. I could feel him breaking, and I did my best to absorb his agony. It was too much for him to shoulder alone, and too strong for me to contain along with my own. This was it. This was our final goodbye.

As if on cue, his partner hurried in, a frantic look painting his usually stoic face. “Alexander, it’s time. We must go now.” He looked between the two of us, the frown between his brows urgently conveying that trouble was near.

Alex’s head snapped up even faster than my trained eyes could follow. “No,” he growled, baring his teeth. “I am not leaving her. I will not leave my family.”

His dearest friend, his brother in arms, shook his head in exasperation before his ocean blue eyes locked with mine. He knew there was no way to dissuade Alex from doing what he thought was right. He was stubborn to a fault—a quality I both loved and loathed about him.

“Alex…” I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “Baby, you need to go. If you’re here when they arrive, there will be no chance of survival for you. For us.” I pressed his hand into my belly, hoping to tap into his rationality. “I can talk to them. I can make them understand. If there is any chance of mercy, you cannot be here.”

Falling to his knees, Alex cradled my belly. My heart broke into a million tiny pieces as he pressed his cheek to my stomach and closed his eyes. I couldn’t fight the tears and let them spill down my face freely. He began to hum a tune I knew well. Since the day we found out we would be parents, he had sung this melody to my belly every night, his silken voice coaxing me and our little one into slumber. It would be the last time I’d ever feel the richness of his voice enrapture me in harmonic euphoria.

A low hiss resounded behind us. “There’s too many. If we don’t leave now, there will surely be bloodshed. We’ll split up. I can lead them farther north while you trail them east. The Light wouldn’t dare go south.”

“And the Dark?” he mumbles against me.

“We’ll have to hope like hell that they’re too pompous and arrogant to give enough of a damn to look.”

I could see the uncertainty he hoped to conceal wash across his almost angelic features before he turned toward the front door. He was beautiful, as was my Alexander. They all were. The Dark were believed to be the Divine’s most perfect creation. Where we, the Light, encompassed humility and compassion, they exuded beauty and mystique. Together, we were balance and harmony. Apart? Treachery, chaos and envy.

“Wait!” I called out, surprising myself. Alex was on his feet immediately, ready to attack. “Wait,” I repeated in a gentler tone. Softly, I touched the bare skin of Alex’s arm, soothing him instantly. “I just need to speak with him before he goes,” I said, nodding at Dorian.

As always, Dorian regarded me cautiously, yet he nodded courteously before following me to the next room. There was something I needed to say, and Alex could not know. He wouldn’t understand.

“You’re brave and loyal,” I began. “I know this is difficult for you to grasp, and you struggle with the idea of Alexander and me, but I want to thank you for keeping our secret. And for being a true friend to Alex…and to me.”

Dorian nodded, his pale blue eyes guarded. “Yes, of course.”

“There is strength in you. And goodness. More than you can ever know. And that’s why…that’s why I need your bravery and loyalty again. This child will restore our world to how it should be. The Dark and the Light, brothers and sisters—children of the Divine. We will be as we once were. But she will need you.”

“She?”

“Yes,” I smiled down at my swollen belly. “Our little girl. She will save us all. And you have been chosen to help her.”

“And why do you say that? Why me?” he frowned, unconvinced. I could see the reluctance in those gleaming blue eyes—not fully believing my words, but wise enough not to discount them.

“It is your destiny, Dorian. She is your destiny.”

EIGHT BREATHS.

Seventeen beats of his heart.

Five blinks of his icy, blue eyes.

That’s the first glimpse I get of my father—a beautiful ghost standing in the doorway—as he finds me…hair a disheveled mess and clothing amiss. He looks at Dorian, shirtless, frozen in mid-movement, his hand still extended toward me. Furrowing his brow, my father’s eyes narrow as if he’s just now seeing me. Seeing Dorian. Seeing us together.

His lips twitch infinitesimally—almost too fast to catch. That should have been a sign. That tiny detail should have told me what would happen in my next breath.

He turns his head sharply to me then extends a single finger in accusation. Wisps of grey vapors swirl over his hand before he brings that finger to his lips just as his blue eyes flash with stark white.

“Shhh.”

And he’s gone from the doorframe, dissolved in a blur of color and smoke. I’m almost too stunned and confused to react. The crack of hard flesh on wood and shattering glass crunching under heavy footfalls starts to pull me back. Reality crashes down and, smothering the shock, I turn in time to see Alexander, my father, with his hand around Dorian’s neck, slamming him against the wall with enough force to cause plaster to rain down from the ceiling. He pulls Dorian forward, just inches from his murderous sneer and the bloodlust paling his eyes, before slamming him back into the cracked wall. Dorian paws at Alexander’s grasp around his neck, his own glare icy with violent fury.

Stop it. Make him stop.

I can clearly hear the voice whispering in my head, but I can’t move or talk or think. It’s like I’m watching a slow motion sequence, drifting farther and farther from each frame. Away from a truth that my heart and mind refuse to accept.

Minutes ago, I was sprawled out on the couch, kissing and touching the man I love. The man that my father is currently trying to kill. The father that’s supposed to be dead.

Now I’m bearing witness to their demise—the demise of their friendship and potentially their lives—and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Wake up, Gabriella. This isn’t a dream. Stop this. He’ll kill him.

I hear the voice again, realizing that it is not my own. Not the usual tap on my conscience whenever I engage in my usual questionable behavior. But I know this voice. I don’t know how, but I do.

It sinks in further, making me aware of the rumbling of the floor beneath my feet and of shouted curses as the two men fight to gain control of the other. I gasp for air as the tang of blood and sweat floods my lungs.

“Stop.” They don’t hear me in their struggle over the ground, rolling through shards of jagged glass and splintered wood. “Stop!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dorian growls, after wrestling Alexander’s grip from his neck.

“You!” Alexander spits, landing a punch to Dorian’s temple. I grimace at the impact, and my knees buckle as vertigo seizes my equilibrium. The taste of metal fills my mouth. “You sick fuck. She’s my daughter. My daughter! I told you to protect her, not fu—,”

Dorian retaliates with a blow to Alexander’s chest that steals his breath before he utters his next words. “It’s not like that! You know I wouldn’t betray you! You know I would never hurt her.”

I watch through hazy eyes as their skin begins to fall away like ash, their human guises dissipating into black vapors. I can see Dorian trying to hang onto his humanity, trying to remain the man that I love and know—the man that doesn’t want to hurt his friend. But with every blow, he becomes more of what he is—a monster, a demon. Dark to his core.

Dorian gets the upper hand and straddles Alexander, pinning his arms to his sides. Sweat-slicked black hair falls into opaque eyes and a gash across his bare chest seeps with a tar-black substance. I grimace, because seeing him hurt—knowing he’s in pain—devastates me. I feel his pain too. I feel the way his lungs burn with exertion. I feel the throbbing at his temple, causing his vision to be splotched with fuzzy, black dots. And I can feel the pain in his boney knuckles as he squeezes my father’s wrists until the bones crack threatening to break.

I clutch my own chest, rubbing the sting of a phantom abrasion. When I pull my hand away, it’s sticky and wet with fresh, warm blood—blood from a wound that shouldn’t be there. That wasn’t there just seconds ago.

“Dorian,” I whisper hoarsely, still staring in disbelief at my hand covered in the dark, thick substance. This can’t happen. It’s physically impossible. I can feel him—our link ensured that—but this…this isn’t supposed to happen. “Dorian. Dorian, please.”

Somehow—some way—he hears me, or maybe he just feels my discontent. Maybe he can smell fear tingeing the air, because in a blink, he’s beside me, grasping my blood-stained hand.

“Gabriella, what…” He gently pulls down the shirt where it sticks to the gash across my chest, his pale eyes narrowed in bewilderment. They’re lighter now—wild with violence and carnage. As he assesses the deep cut stretching from my collarbone down to my left breast, his eyes warm and thaw, returning to that brilliant blue that hypnotized me the very moment I saw him exactly a year ago in a crowded nightclub. Those eyes have mesmerized me every day since.

He takes my cheeks into his spiny hands, searching my face with that same penetrating gaze. I can feel his dread—can almost predict his next words as if they are my own. “What happened? Little girl, what happened to you?”

Trembling, my vision dimmed with sudden exhaustion, I touch a bloody finger to the broken flesh marring his once beautiful skin.

Dorian’s arms are the last thing I feel…before I feel nothing at all.

I’M NOT A stranger to confusion. I know it well—probably better than I know myself. But that’s not saying much, is it? Not when the life you thought you had was never really yours at all. It was an illusion. A rouse. Your family, your friends … all designed to uphold the perfect picture of a normal, young woman. And there’s not one damn thing normal about me.

Me and confusion? First name basis.

Still, this is something else—something more. Something that you can’t really prepare yourself for. Cataclysmic-status shit that makes you feel like you’re on one of those Tilt-a-Whirls at a carnival.

No, the Funhouse. My life is definitely more like a Funhouse. Mirrors that distort your image of reality, reflecting something that you don’t even recognize. Once you get just a tiny grasp of what’s real, the floor shifts from under you and you’re on your ass, struggling to get back to stable footing. The only difference is… nothing about this shit is fun.

“Gabriella?” a muffled voice calls out to me. I know I should answer, but the earth is moving again, jolting me into a constant state of vertigo. It doesn’t end. It never does.

“Gabriella?” it calls again. I really wish people would shut up and stop calling my name. I don’t even know who that girl is anymore. This isn’t my life. Most people would argue that it never was. But at the very least, I knew who I was. I knew what meant the most to me in this life. And I knew what I was willing to die for. At least I thought I did.

“Gabriella? Please…answer me. Open your eyes, little girl.”

“What the..? Little girl? What kind of perverted shit is that?”

“This isn’t the time, Alexander. Stand down. Stand the fuck down.”

“Bullshit. I’m not going anywhere. Get your hands off my daughter!”

“A little late for you to try to pull the concerned parent act. I’ve known and loved her for the past year. Where the hell have you been?”

A deep, throaty growl cuts into the tense atmosphere, warning of an imminent threat. “It would be wise of you to contemplate your next words very carefully, Dorian. Right now, my daughter has been hurt—because of you—and needs my help. We will settle our differences at a later time, I can promise you that.”

Ah. There we are. I know exactly what part of the Funhouse we’re in. The part where something jumps out and scares the crap out of you, causing you to scream and run like hell. The part where shit gets real.

“Needs you? She needed you twenty-one years ago. But where were you, Alexander? Huh? Biding your time when she needed protection? When she was in danger?”

“Let us not forget who she needed protection from, eh, Prince Dorian? Tell me, who did that danger stem from? You know good and well that I would have given my life to protect her. All I care about is Gabriella. And if you had an ounce of affection for her, you’d feel the same.”

“Don’t you even think you can comprehend the depth of affection I have for her. She is mine, and I am hers. I made sure of it. And there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to change that.”

Another low, guttural growl. “Sure about that, old friend? Or have you forgotten who the fu—”

I force my eyes open slowly, eager to cease their bickering before it turns violent…again. There’s been enough bloodshed, and I haven’t even had my coffee.

Dorian’s face comes into view, and he sighs with relief, his forehead dimpled with worry. “Gabriella,” he breathes, as if he’s been deprived from precious oxygen for hours…days… millennia. He gives me a small, reassuring smile before flicking an awkward glance to something—or someone—across from him.

I die.

Not literally… Hell, I can’t do that. But something inside me—forgotten memories, grief, lies—it perishes into dust. Because what I thought was real—what I had come to terms with despite all the pain this world has cursed me to bear—is not what it seems. My reality is standing over me, looking down at me with the type of concern and affection that only a parent could harbor. It’s the type of look that a father gives his daughter when she scrapes her knee, or comes home crying after a boy breaks her heart. The kind of look that boasts of gentleness, care and love.

Although I don’t know this striking man in front of me, I know without a doubt that he is my father. And something within me blooms with hope, urging me to accept this unlikely revelation and to desperately hold onto the beautiful apparition for fear that it will dissipate before my eyes.

“Gabriella?”

I open my mouth to say something—anything—but I can’t find the right words. So, in true Gabriella fashion, I go with my first thought.

“You look pretty good for a dead guy.”

Alexander exhales and smiles as if he has just heard the first sounds of my newborn cry. I guess in a way he has. This is our very first introduction. Something that was robbed from us twenty-one years ago.

“My child,” he murmurs, tentatively stroking the knotted, messy mass of hair on my head. He touches me with a reluctance that only the Dark could understand. He summons pure, unbound, selfless affection, something they rarely feel or experience.

I sit up to really let myself look at him, and I’m instantly stunned stupid with his beauty. Dark curls, bronze skin and startlingly bright blue eyes. His hair is longer, and there’s a good amount of scruff on his chin—just enough to make him appear menacing and dangerous. However, he is undoubtedly handsome. Almost pretty. This man can’t be my father. Despite his ripped suit jacket and blood-stained linen shirt, there’s no way I’m related to someone so damn good looking. But I see it… I see me. The shape of his nose, his full lips, the dimple between his brows when he’s concentrating. He’s a part of me, as bizarre as it may seem.

I make a move to sit up from the couch, and both Dorian and Alexander rush to my aid, which is completely unnecessary. I get it; it’s not for my comfort, but completely for their peace of mind.

I cast my gaze down to see the scrap of fabric I’m wearing was once Dorian’s crisp, white dress shirt. The top is stained with my blood, but the skin just beneath it is smooth and unmarred, if not a bit cold to the touch. I run a hand from my collarbone to the top of my left breast, following the icy trail that was once open, bloody flesh. Then I do the same to Dorian, letting my fingers caress his bare chest. He flinches marginally at first, still growing accustomed to the initial jolt of my touch. He leans closer, soaking in the feel of my skin and the scent of my power.

“What happened, Dorian?” I ask, just above a whisper. He opens his mouth to answer, but no sound escapes, as if the words have been stolen from his tongue. I press my gaze into his and lean forward. I’m not trying to influence him—I don’t want to ever force him to bend to my will—but I need to hear him say it. I can feel the reluctance in him; I can feel him trying to push me out of his head. There’s something he’s not telling me, and he’s notorious for being cryptic.

Not anymore.

“Gabriella, I’m sorry, I—I had no idea this would happen. I didn’t know,” he stammers. His hand covers mine where it is still planted on his bare chest, his touch cool, yet comfortable.

“Didn’t know what?” I nod, encouraging him to go on. “What happened to me, Dorian? What happened to you? Talk to me.”

I press in more and he grimaces, as if feeling me inside him pains him. Or maybe it’s his resistance that hurts him. A shudder runs through him as I move in even closer, hanging on to his every shallow breath.

“The link,” he finally croaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I told you I didn’t know what would happen after you ascended. And I didn’t, I swear it. But this…this is something I could never have imagined.”

My gaze is wide and focused on his. “Go on.”

Dorian takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand over his heart. “Every wound that I suffer, you suffer with me. Everything that happens to me will apparently happen to you. I don’t know why and I don’t know how to stop it, but we have to find out. Because if that’s true, if something were to…if I don’t survive…I can’t…” He grimaces again before stroking my cheek tenderly. “I’m sorry, little girl. If I would have known, I never would have done it.”

“But you did anyway,” Alexander interjects, venom in his words. “You put my daughter in danger without knowing what you were doing. How dare you be so careless with her life?”

Dorian keeps his gaze on me, unfazed by my father’s words. “You have to believe that your safety is the only thing that matters to me. You are the only thing that matters to me.”

I nod, hearing him, but not quite understanding him. “But I’m fine now. You’re fine now. Did you heal us? Like you healed me when…when Xavier took me and—”

Dorian flinches at the spoken memory of my near-death less than 24 hours ago. He’d found me beaten, bloodied and tortured in the basement of an abandoned warehouse miles from the city limits. I’d been close to death on that concrete slab, my throat and chest crushed by the bare hands of a monster. But, somehow, Dorian brought me back. His love saved me in that impossible, final hour. Maybe the Divine has shown mercy and allowed him to do it again.

When he shakes his head solemnly, I realize that I’m way off base. “No. I didn’t. You did.”

The fuck?

Reading the confusion in my expression, Dorian continues. “We, the Dark and the Light, have accelerated healing, obviously.”

“Oh yes, obviously,” I jibe, rolling my eyes. When in doubt, act immature. Next step: Stomp my feet and poke my lower lip out like the brat that I am.

He steadies me with a hand on each of my shoulders as if he’s afraid I’ll run. “And I did try to heal you. I tried with everything in me to fix you, baby. But you…your healing is something we’ve never seen before. Your body, Gabriella, mended itself right before our eyes. Your flesh pulled itself together and sealed like…” He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, trying to find the words to explain.

“Like magic,” I whisper, almost embarrassed to utter the words.

“Yes,” Dorian replies, a soft smile on those deliciously full lips. “Like magic. But not any ordinary magic. This is something no one’s ever experienced. In all our years combined,” he says nodding at Alexander, whose face is becoming graver by the minute, “we’ve never seen anything like this. Like you.”

“We knew you’d be special, Gabriella,” Alexander chimes in, his voice soft and soothing, as if he’s coaxing a wild beast. “But we didn’t realize that you’d have a completely different type of magic than ours. And since it is different, we don’t know what to expect.”

Again, I nod, just to show that I’m listening, but it all sounds like a foreign language. Nothing should still surprise me, but it does. All this shit surprises the living hell out of me.

Dorian lets his palms slide down to my hands to grasp them tightly, trying to exude confidence and warmth in his touch. His thumb lingers over the tiny, blue anchor marked in my skin, sending cold ripples up my arm. “I promise you, little girl, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. We’ll find a way to break the link. I’ll exhaust every fucking resource I have to make this right.”

I pull away from him, not because I distrust his promise, but because it’s too much to digest all at once. My dead father shows up; he and Dorian try to kill each other; I bear Dorian’s wounds that could potentially be the end of me; I find out I possess an unknown power inside myself…how do I even begin to respond? The questions fill my skull faster than I can even get them out. And even if I could make sense of these revelations, crashing down on me like a tidal wave, what then? Will I be ready to hear the truth? Can I handle that? My body may be stronger, my vision clearer, my reflexes faster, but I’m still Gabriella. And 24 hours ago, my life was in the hands of a psychotic Light Enchanter, while the man I love was preparing to wed his equally crazed ex.

Where the fuck is the pause button?

I close my eyes for a beat, trying to collect my bearings and get a handle on the anxiety creeping over me. This isn’t right. This is all wrong. I was supposed to ascend, accepting my destiny to walk in both the Light and the Dark. I was supposed to bring the two forces together and save them all from the evils of the human world. To restore the balance. Alexander was not supposed to come back. He died for love—for me—over two decades ago. And the link was supposed to help Dorian and I. It was a testament of our love that would protect both our lives. It wasn’t supposed to be another obstacle stacked against us.

Just stop. I just want it all to stop.

I press the tips of my fingers to my temples and take a deep, calming breath, willing the confusion in my head to slow. I can do this. Sure, Dorian and I have some creepy stigmata-esque phenomena going on, but shit, we’ve been through worse. And having my father here—having my flesh and blood right here with me—is a dream come true. My adopted parents, Chris and Donna, have been amazing and I could have never asked for more, but having this second chance with Alex…what a gift.

I open my eyes and exhale, ready to face whatever else this supernatural life wants to throw at me with a newfound “Come at me, bro” resolve, but I’m completely frozen in place before I can even utter one word.

No. No, I’m not frozen in place.

They are.

Shock and horror rip through me at an alarming pace, as I realize what’s happened. Dorian…Alexander…both completely still and silent. Frozen into mystical mannequins right before my dual-colored eyes.

This is fucked. This is so fucking fucked.

I wave a hand in front of Dorian’s face, his brilliant blue eyes—still as alluring and hypnotic as ever. They don’t move to wink at me playfully. I touch my fingertips to his full, soft lips, but he doesn’t give me my favorite crooked smile. Even when I rake a hand through that sexy-as-hell mess of black hair that I love to fist and tug so much when he’s deep inside me, he doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even feel me touching him. My body is a stranger to his.

Shit.

Shit shit shit. This can’t be happening.

I turn to Alexander, who wears the same look of frustration that he’s had since he arrived and realized what had been going on between his daughter and his best friend. His brow is still furrowed, his lips still tight with irritation. He even grips the back of the couch like he had been doing just seconds ago.

“Oh my God,” I say out loud, though no one will hear me.

Or can they?

Desperate, I begin to clap my hands loudly in front of their faces, but there’s no reaction. I shout in their ears, calling out their names, but nobody answers. Neither even flinches. Frustrated tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes, but I quickly swipe them away. This is not the time to have a girl moment. I need to think; I need to figure this shit out before I fuck things up even more with my unstable emotions.

I’ve only seen this happen once before: the day Stavros showed up at the salon, Luxe, demanding that I speak with him. How did he do it? A snap of his fingers? I try it, but nothing changes. Cringing, I slap Dorian across the face. His smooth jaw feels like marble under my fingertips and his skin doesn’t even give with the impact.

“Wake up, Dorian!” I screech, slapping him again. My hand stings with the blow, but I hit his again, this time on his bare chest, over and over again before burying my face against his skin. I breathe him in—stealing his scent for comfort. “Please, wake up! Please!”

I’m losing control—I can feel it. Numbing cold ripples from the apples of my cheeks to the rims of my eyes. I try to blink it away but it just keeps growing stronger, colder.

I lift my head from Dorian’s chest just as the floor begins to tremble under my bare feet, causing shards of broken glass and splinters of wood to clatter together. A gust of wind sweeps through the room, rattling what’s left of the furniture. Lights flicker wildly all around us as a low roar envelops the vast space.

I look down at my shaky hands just as a fiery, auburn glow alights my fingertips, snaking its way up my palms and to my wrists. The ethereal haze writhes and twists up to my elbows, growing hotter, yet not burning me. I can feel its power seeping into my skin and permeating the very marrow in my bones. I gasp at the sensation igniting every cell in my body. I can’t even explain what’s happening to me. It’s hot, yet cold. Jarring, yet euphoric. I feel like I’m weightless, floating outside of my body, above Dorian and Alexander, and beyond this room, beyond the Broadmoor. I am everywhere, yet dissolved into obscurity. A mere whisper and a thundering roar.

I’ve seen Dorian transform before—hell, I witnessed it just moments before I lost consciousness. Both he and Alexander stripped away their human forms and unleashed the darkness that festered just below the surface. Most people would have been terrified, and honestly, it was the first time Dorian allowed me to see him. But now…now I like it. I love it. It’s what he truly is—Dark—and I love every bit of that man, even the scary parts.

And now I’ve lost him. Again. And I don’t know how to bring him back to me.

“Help,” I whisper, the word falling on deaf ears. There’s nobody here to help me. Nobody here to fix what I’ve done. I’m alone with this mess I’ve made. “Somebody help me.”

A knock sounds from the double doors, answering my anguished plea. “Room service,” someone announces.

I look to the entrance of the suite nervously, not knowing what to do. I’m covered with dried blood, the room is destroyed, and I have two frighteningly gorgeous Warlocks frozen in front of me. I can’t explain this; who would believe me? I can’t even believe it myself.

A new wave of desperation sets in, causing the floor to rumble more violently. The stinging cold in my eyes almost hurts, and it grows more intense as I stare at those double doors, feeling like I could burn right through them. I take a deep breath, smelling sweet fruit, fresh coffee and human sweat just on the other side. I can smell the sugary decadence of crème brulee and chocolate mousse resting on silver-covered platters...can hear the rapid heartbeat stuttering under the server’s sweat-dampened cotton shirt. He’s nervous. Anxious. But there’s something else I sense in him. Something I’ve never felt before.

Just as I think it, I’m already in a defensive crouch, shielding both Dorian and Alexander with my body. What reason would he have to be nervous?

I take another deep breath, inhaling remnants of marijuana and alcohol seeping from his pores. I hear him swallow and smack his lips together, searching for moisture. His breath is stale and foul with booze and bile. I taste it on my own tongue, and I’m hit with an intense wave of dizziness.

“Hello?” He knocks again before rattling the door handle. “Is everything ok?”

I look down at my hands, still covered in fire. Something doesn’t feel right. This is no ordinary concierge. And if he’s here to hurt us—if somebody sent him here—I have to ensure our safety at all costs. Even if that means doing the unthinkable.

I sense someone approaching down the hall, but I can’t tell exactly who—or what—it is. Even with their soundless footfalls, I can tell they’re coming in fast—faster than humanly possible. And I can feel it…I can feel their power. It’s strong. Potent.

Dark.

I take a few steps towards the door, waiting, ready to strike if need be. I feel every cell in my body heating with expectation, and adrenaline surges through every vein. The carnal part of me takes the reins, and I’m guided only by sense and animal instinct.

I hear the concierge gasp in surprise as the unknown intruder appears before him, but the breath is stolen from his lungs before he even has the chance to formulate coherent words.

Then all is silent and still…eerily so. Even the rumbling under my feet has ceased and the howling winds have died. I can’t even hear my own anxious breaths.

Three raps on the door. And the last voice I expect to hear.

“Room service.”

I’M AT THE double doors before my brain even initializes the command. Without so much as a flick of my finger, they fly open, revealing an unconscious hotel worker with bad skin slumped in a corner, and the dangerously handsome Warlock known as Nikolai Skotos.

“Niko,” I nearly sob, throwing myself into his arms. He tentatively wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight. Niko’s always been more comfortable with human contact than his older brother. Physical displays of affection were never an issue for us.

“Happy birthday, baby girl. Easy now, I’m here,” he says, pulling me from his body to assess my distressed state. His eyes—as blue and bright as a cloudless sky—grow wide with disbelief. “Holy fuck, Gabs. What have you…what did you do to yourself?”

I know exactly what he sees—ripped, bloody shirt, unruly hair and eyes that shouldn’t exist in either of our worlds. He sees me for what I am—what I have become.

His hand trembling, he slowly extends a single finger to touch the space right below my right eye—the golden one. The part of me that was destined to rule in the Light. He gasps aloud when his bare skin touches mine.

“Your eyes,” he whispers, fear and astonishment thick in his voice. “How did you…? How did you do it?”

“I don’t know. I just refused to ascend to one without the other. I didn’t want to choose.”

He brings his other hand to my face and cups both cheeks, closing his eyes as the burn infiltrates the surface of his palms.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” I ask, confused as to why he hasn’t flinched from the scorch of my skin.

Eyes still closed, Niko shakes his head, a small, sad smile on his lips. “No. Not anymore.”

When he finally opens his eyes and looks down at me, unnamed emotion swims amongst the blue. It goes beyond fear of the unknown and far past surprise. I can’t tell if he’s saddened with my decision or pleased, or maybe a mixture of the two.

“Good,” I try to smile. “Because I need your help.”

Reluctantly, I pull away from the comfort of his touch and turn towards the scene in the living room. Niko yanks the hotel server by the sweat-stained collar of his shirt and drags him into the suite, before pushing the food cart inside as well. In the Dark tongue, he mumbles something under his breath about filthy, disgusting humans, and then follows me into the room.

“What the fuck…” he begins, taking in the broken furniture. Then his eyes land on Dorian and Alex—still erected as supernatural statues. He ghosts to his brother within the next blink and grasps his still, marble shoulders. “What happened? Who did this to them?”

I wring my hands in front of me nervously. “Um, I think I did.” Niko’s alarmed expression snaps to me, a frown dimpled between his brows.

“What?”

“But I swear, I didn’t mean to! I don’t even know how I did it. One minute I’m having a mental mini meltdown and the next moment, I open my eyes and they’re like this! And now… now I don’t know how to fix them. I didn’t even know I could do this, Niko. Please, you have to help them.”

Niko places a hand over the top of Dorian’s head and closes his eyes. “Wake,” he commands, his voice heavily accented. To both our dismay, nothing happens. Dorian still stares on, concern and love etched in those beautiful, unblinking eyes.

Moving to Alex, Niko does the same, gaining the same results.

“Fuck,” he spits out, pacing the floor. He runs a hand through messily styled black hair and tugs the front longer layers in frustration.

“What? Why can’t you fix it? I thought your power was—”

“It’s not my power that’s the problem, Gabs,” he interjects brusquely. “It’s yours. Like I suspected, only you can reverse it. I couldn’t even penetrate the spell. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” I’m in front of him before he can take his next breath. “I didn’t do anything! I was just sitting here, trying to wrap my head around all this,” I say, waving a hand between my father, Dorian and me, “and the next thing I know, they’re like that! I didn’t do a damn thing!”

As if my words have flipped some unseen switch, every light in the room flickers violently and the trembling under our feet resumes. I flex my fingers as that familiar burn snakes up my hands and wrists. I can feel it coiling through every vein and artery. I’m losing control again. And if I managed to royally screw things up by just thinking things were fucked up, imagine what I would do if I verbalized my fear and frustration.

Against good sense and his own self-preservation, Niko grasps my shoulders, steadying me. Immediately, I feel his influence, coaxing me into peace. It’s not enough, but I feel him. I feel him trying to break through.

“Look at me, Gabs.” His voice is calm and soothing, as if he’s speaking to an infant or a rabid beast ready to strike. Pretty sure I’m the latter. “I need you to calm down, baby girl. If you want me to help Dorian and Alex, you have to listen to me. Can you do that?”

I nod my head, because I want to believe him. I want to be confident that everything will be okay.

“Good.” His eyes never leave mine. He cups my face gently, nudging his way into my mind. “Focus on me, ok? Focus on the sound of my voice and the feel of my hands on you. See me and only me. Just let me in, Gabs.”

“Okay,” I whisper, willing myself to do as he asks. I trust Niko wholeheartedly. Even when Dorian let me down in every way possible, Niko’s friendship was constant.

As if tiny strings of silken, pulsing magic extend from my body, I reach out to him, urging my heart and mind to open. My consciousness touches his—his thoughts and feelings become my own—and I see myself through his eyes. It’s all so overwhelming and incredible, yet I don’t react. One blink and I could lose this connection.

I can’t read his mind, per say, but I can feel it. Of course, I expect to feel his playfulness and zeal for danger, maybe a bit of dark perversion, but instead, I’m filled with melancholy and nostalgia. My throat tightens, his sadness strangling me, and I try to swallow down the darkness closing in on me. I don’t understand it—Niko has always been so carefree and mischievous. How could so much sorrow be festering just beneath so much beauty?

I open my mouth to ask him, the question eating me alive, but he blinks and the link is lost.

“There,” he mutters, taking a step back.

I blink rapidly, trying to grasp exactly what happened in those last seconds. I can’t even be sure of what I felt. Did he see inside my head? I don’t think he breathed me, but I’ve seen Dorian use his eyes to penetrate my mind, almost using his power to calm and desensitize me.

“I see what you did. Damn, Gabs, your magic is…incredible. I can’t quite understand it. Just trying to breach the surface has nearly drained me. And I didn’t even come close enough to manipulate it. I can’t.” He frowns, tilting his head to one side. “You’re not like us. You’re not like them. You’re so much more.”

I roll my eyes and blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, yeah, I’m different. I’m a fucking enigma. But none of that even matters when I can’t even control myself.” I wrap my arms around my waist, digging my fingers into my sides. “I don’t trust myself, Niko. Not with their lives. Not even with my own.”

In a flash, he’s in front of me, so close that I can feel cool air flare from his nostrils. “Snap the fuck out of it, baby girl. Many of us would kill for your power, and believe me, some will try. Whether or not they succeed is up to you. So cut the pity party and reverse the fucking spell.”

“What?” I scoff. What the hell has gotten into him? Why is he talking to me like this?

“You heard me. Reverse it. Now, Gabs. Fix what you’ve done before it gets worse. Before you kill them.”

“But-but I can’t! I can’t do it! I don’t even know how!” Cold tears prick my eyes, but none fall. Fire licks my knuckles as I close my hands into tight fists.

“Now, Gabs! Do it! Show me who you are! You wanted this; you chose this power. Now use it, goddammit!”

“No! I don’t know how!” I shriek, my voice rattling the chandelier hanging overhead. A few crystal teardrops fall around us, pelting the floor like frozen rain.

“Yes, you do!” Niko’s eyes grow paler, icier. He bares his teeth with a growl and steps in closer, yet he doesn’t touch me. Still, I can feel his power fan over me. I can feel the darkness seeping from his pores, infecting me. I feel his irrational rage intoxicating me until it is my own. Until I am drunk with fury and bloodlust.

Winds howl and whip around us, and everything that isn’t nailed down crashes to the floor. I don’t care. I want to break it all. I want to destroy everything in this room to fucking rubble. I want to burn this hotel to the ground and dance on the ashes. I want to bay at the moon like the animal that I am.

“Come forth!” Niko shouts in a heavy, ancient tongue. It’s neither English nor the language of the Dark, yet I understand it. I feel the words beckoning something inside me, overriding my human instincts and speaking straight to my darkness. Calling to the beast thrashing deep within me.

Niko continues to chant, possessing more and more of my soul with every accented word. I can feel myself slipping away, but I can’t control it. I want to do as he says. I want to submit to this darkness.

In his next uttered command, I am standing directly in front of Dorian and Alex. Another flash of light, and my hands are outstretched, reaching out to them. Then I’m chanting too, words I’ve never heard nor spoken. Words I don’t even understand.

“Wake.”

I can’t tell if it’s me that speaks the word or Niko, but as soon as it’s uttered, every droplet of crystal fixed onto the chandelier above us shatters. My hand goes up reflexively, halting their descent in mid-air before even one can touch us.

“Gabriella?”

The moment I hear his voice, my concentration falters and the broken glass above us explodes into glittering grains of sand. With iridescent dust raining down on us, my Dark Prince and my father return to me, stirring from their petrified state.

“Gabriella?” Dorian repeats, his hands running over me, checking for injury.

“I’m fine.” I look to Alexander, who frowns with confusion, then back to Dorian. “I’m sorry. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“What exactly did happen, Gabriella?” Alex asks, his voice laced with a hint of accusation.

I open my mouth to answer, but Niko steps up, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Just a little hiccup. Our Gabs is a natural with immobilization spells.” He looks down at me with a smile on his lips, and he winks slyly. “But she was able to reverse it without much provocation.”

Bull. Shit.

I narrow my eyes, yet I don’t say a word. Without much provocation, my ass. Niko knows good and damn well I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Why is he lying?

Before I can think to call him on his story, he steps around the couch and stands beside Alexander. “Geez, baby girl. It would be nice if you didn’t try to break my birthday present to you as soon as you get it.”

“Your birthday present?” Dorian is on his feet and in his brother’s face, nearly touching his nose with his own flared nostrils. “Explain. Now.”

“Easy, D,” Niko says pushing against Dorian’s chest, yet he remains as unmovable as stone. The younger man shrugs with nonchalance and strolls to what’s left of the bar.

“You have thirty seconds, brother, or I won’t be as amenable,” Dorian warns, returning to stand beside me. He pulls my body into his side protectively as if Niko’s next words could ignite further conflict.

“Fine,” Niko sighs, before knocking back a swallow of scotch from what must be the only remaining glass. “If you must know, I couldn’t tell you, dear brother. I couldn’t trust you. Your thoughts are not safe, and if I had any hopes of recovering Alexander, I couldn’t tell you my plans.”

I feel Dorian flinch beside me and I look up in time to see him nod solemnly. Niko’s words, as true as they may be, have stung.

“So you knew? All this time, you knew my father was alive?” I press with an air of skepticism. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but hell, that’s a pretty monumental secret to keep from someone you supposedly care for. It’s just like the Skotos men to withhold imperative information. They proclaim to love and protect me, yet they covet me with lies and deceit.

“No, Gabriella,” Alexander answers, taking a step toward me. “He didn’t know anything. No one did.”

“No one but Cyrus,” Niko interjects. “He saved your father 21 years ago and hid him until he knew it’d be safe enough for you both.” His gaze rests on both me and Dorian, searching for understanding. “My plan was to use the grand royal wedding as a diversion and move him then. When that didn’t happen, I had to resort to plan B. Judging by the mess, I can see the reunion was an eventful one, yes?”

Dorian leaves my side, stalking—almost ghosting—to where his younger sibling pours another drink. “You knew what would happen,” he seethes between tightly clenched teeth. “You knew there would be bloodshed, and because of your carelessness, it was Gabriella’s blood that was shed.”

Niko frowns and puts down the crystal glass just before it touches his full bottom lip. He doesn’t ask Dorian to elaborate; he doesn’t have to. He can hear it in his thoughts—the reason why my shirt is stained with my own blood. I can feel the turmoil rising in both their guts as Dorian explains the shift in the link. What was supposed to connect us may very well be the thing that destroys us.

“No,” he barely whispers, eyes wide with terror.

“Yes,” Dorian nods, sounding defeated. “We have to do what we can to reverse it. And there’s only one person I know who can handle that kind of spell…”

Three sets of ocean blue eyes fall on me simultaneously, each filled with varying degrees of regret and apprehension. And fear. Fear for what they know they must do.

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t look at me like that,” I say admonishingly. I pull the tattered shirt around me tighter, suddenly feeling exposed.

“Gabriella…” Dorian takes a cautious step in my direction.

I shake my head furiously. “No. That’s insane. I won’t let you do it.”

Niko pipes up, his voice level, yet his mind and heart troubled. “If we have any chance at finding a way to break the link, we’ll need—”

“I said, no!”

“My child,” Alexander says gently. He comes to stand in front of me, his pale blue eyes softer than I’ve seen them since he arrived. “There are things that we can’t provide you, no matter how badly we wish we could. Even with our abilities combined, we do not possess that brand of power. Only one has the capacity to evoke that type of magic. As much as it pains me to say it—as much as I’d rather die than submit to that sadistic tyrant—we need Stavros.”

“Fine. Then I’ll go alone. You know what he’ll do if he sees you’ve deceived him. And I won’t sentence you—any of you—to death.” I look at the three beautiful men before me, all willing to place their lives at Stavros’s feet to protect me. It’s my turn to protect them. “I lost you all once. I can’t go through that again. So please…please don’t force me to. Let me go to him alone.”

“You know there’s no chance in hell that we’d let you do that,” Niko retorts, moving to my side. “Gabs, you’re stuck with us—all of us. Where you go, we go.”

Dorian steps into view, capturing my attention and my gaze. He brushes my cheek with his hand, offering tranquility in his gentle touch. “We don’t love easily, Gabs. You of all people should know that. And when we find it—when the Divine bestows that precious gift upon us—we hold on to it.”

Niko slides his palm against mine, intertwining our fingers, and his gift of peace washes over me instantly. “We fight for it.”

Alexander takes my other hand, and we come full circle, sharing this unconventional bond of strength and serenity. He turns to me, nostalgia in those wide, blue depths. “We die for it.”

As badly as I want to fight against them and disregard their wishes, I can’t. It’s more than just their soothing touch immobilizing my defiance—it’s their love. And that is stronger than any magic in this world and beyond.

This was it; that was all I needed. The decision was made. I would do anything for the people I love. Even make a deal with the devil himself.

I FEEL HIM all over me.

Sliding over the surface of my skin, tickling the nape of my neck. Grazing the shell of my ear with an unspoken whisper, his voice so clear that I swear he’s right beside me.

Thanks for not saying anything, baby girl. I owe you one.

I look across the room at Niko, his blue eyes delving into mine. He tips his head in my direction before crouching down to assess the still unconscious concierge he’d dragged in here. I look up to find Dorian staring at me, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. It’s enough to make me visibly shiver. Intense Dorian is hot as hell; pissed Dorian is just downright scary.

“Got something against room service?” I ask Niko aloud, trying to divert Dorian’s attention. He purses his lips before releasing me from his cold stare. “He’s human; he’s perfectly harmless.”

“Human? Yes. Perfectly harmless? The jury’s still out on that.” Niko rifles through the young man’s pockets, retrieving his wallet. “Dave Kramer, 19, 5-foot-9, black hair, brown eyes and he’s an organ donor. Good to know.”

“He’s a child, Nikolai,” Dorian admonishes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “There better be a good reason why you incapacitated him and risked exposing us all.”

Niko deftly strips off the server’s blazer and yanks down the collar of his dingy shirt. “This good enough reason for you, brother?”

Alexander, Dorian and I move in closer to peer at the black ink embedded in the man’s shoulder, stunning us all into silence.

Thanatos

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, my voice barely a strained whisper. Part of me already knows the answer.

“Death,” Dorian answers, his forehead furrowed in concentration. He kneels down to get a closer look, running his fingertips over the man’s clammy, yellowish skin. “One of the original eight families of the Dark. But obviously, he isn’t one of us.”

“Human,” Alex spits out beside him. “How would he even know what that word means? Surely this is a coincidence.” He wrings his hands in front of his lap, and the act immediately draws my eye. I look down to find that I’m nervously doing the same.

“No coincidence,” Dorian says, shaking his head. He plucks a strand of stringy brown hair from the man’s head and brings it to his nose. “Hmmm. And not entirely human.”

Dorian passes the thin strand to Alexander who not only smells it, but tastes it. Blech.

“It can’t be,” he mutters, his blue eyes sparking with ire.

Dorian nods grimly. “But it is.”

Alexander looks at his old friend, seeing the man he knew and fought with for nearly a century. The man he considered closer than a brother. “Do you think…?”

“It’s possible. When dealing with the Dark, anything is possible.”

I roll my eyes and clear my throat dramatically. “Someone wanna fill me in on the big secret?” I ask, tired of trying to decipher their fragmented conversation.

Dorian’s eyes find mine. “Gabriella, those pictures you showed me from the tattoo shop—do you still have those?”

I grimace. “I did. But they were stored in my cell phone, which was left broken in the parking lot of Cashmere.” I take a cautious step towards the young man’s slumped body. “Do you think he could’ve been one of those guy’s from the pic?”

“Possibly,” Dorian shrugs. “We’ll definitely need to look into it.”

Niko stands and strides over to the cart housing almost a dozen covered dishes. “Anyone hungry?”

“Not me,” I reply shaking my head. I had actually been feeling kinda queasy since…well, since the human boy showed up.

Niko unsheathes a platter of fresh fruit and plucks off a grape. He rolls it between his fingers before bringing it to his lips.

“Wait!” Dorian calls out, flashing to the cart and knocking the grape from his brother’s fingertips.

“Hey! Get your own—”

“Shut your mouth and think for a minute,” Dorian commands, uncovering each of the dishes. “Thanatos is the Dark House of Death, but most importantly, silent, almost gentle death. Use your head, Nikolai. Human boy wearing the mark of Thanatos just happens to wheel a cart of food to this room.”

Nikolai brings another grape to his nose before shaking his head. “Smells clean.”

“Of course, it does.” Dorian unravels a butter knife from a white linen napkin and slices the grape in half. He then plucks a strand of hair from his brother’s head, causing him to protest.

“What is with you and hair today? Jealous?” Niko jibes, running a hand through his meticulously styled coif. Dorian ignores him and brings the silken, black strand to the open grape. As soon it touches the fruit, it sizzles and pops before igniting into a purple flame.

“Poison,” Niko fumes. Fury pales his eyes as he stalks to the boy and drags him up by his collar. “This motherfucker tried to poison us?”

Dorian nods. “Thanatos are known for the eternal sleep. Their magic can manifest poison, the Violet Death. But only they can create it. Someone from Thanatos had to have poisoned the food.”

“But to give him their magic?” Alexander interjects, disgust and disbelief on his tongue. “To let this…this human ingest their power? He’s useless. He wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

“But it’s just enough to give him courage. Just enough to make him believe he could carry out his plan and live long enough to report back to whomever sent him. Stupid, stupid boy.” Dorian goes to stand beside his friend and looks down at the boy’s crumpled body. “Gabriella, baby, go ahead and take a nice, long bath. I know you must be exhausted and ready to get out of those clothes.”

“Huh?” I take a step forward, hand already on my hip. “Why? What are you going to do?”

“Gabriella, do as he says,” Alexander orders, not bothering to turn and look at me either. What the hell?

Niko comes over and places a hand on the small of my back just as I ground my teeth so hard that my jaw aches. A rush of peace crawls up my spine, pulling the fight right out of me. “Come on, baby girl. You don’t want to see this.”

I let Niko usher me to the bedroom where he closes the door behind me. When I’m alone in the vast room draped in black and gold, the coldness of panic begins to seep in as I realize exactly what it is they don’t want me to see: They’re going to kill him.

I should do something. I should try to save that boy’s life, right? This traitorous, drug-riddled punk kid that came here to poison me and the people I love. That stupid fool who thought he was hot shit with a touch of Dark magic inside him. I should be more insistent on sparing human life because I used to be sorta human. Right?

I shake off the regret and doubt trying to creep its way into my head and make my way to the en suite bathroom. Still, I’m seething at the way both Dorian and Alex ordered me from the room. I know it was for my own good and they want to spare me, but shit—I’ve seen worse. I’ve experienced worse.

I am the worst.

Looking for any way to defy Bossy Dorian, I opt to take a shower instead of a bath. There that’ll show him. I roll my eyes at my own immaturity.

I turn on the hot water, and warm mist fills the room as I strip off my soiled shirt. It still smells like Dorian, and I smile and let his scent intoxicate me one last time before dropping it to the floor. Hair wild, lips swollen and completely naked, I stand in front of the bathroom vanity mirror and take in the girl—no—the woman staring back at me.

I want to be strong. I want to be the badass everyone expects me to be. But truth be told, I’m terrified. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and the moment I feel like I have a grasp on reality, the rug is pulled from under me. The Dark tried to kill me. The Light tried to kill me. Now humans? Take a number, assholes. Apparently there’s a line.

I glare daggers at the odd-eyed girl until the mirror fogs with steam. And long after the air becomes too thick and hot to even breathe, I stand there, wondering if I made the right choice. Hoping that I didn’t destroy whatever future I could have had with Dorian by ascending into both the Light and the Dark.

I don’t see him when he enters the room, silently shutting the bathroom door behind him. But I feel him. I always do. I feel him in the deepest parts of me, possessing my body like a snake charmer. Coaxing the animal that lies dormant just beneath the surface.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask, my back still to him.

I feel cool breath on my neck, chilling the sweat pebbling all over my naked body. “Checking on you.”

“I thought you had to handle the boy.” I don’t hide the annoyance in my voice. I know it was for my own good, but I don’t appreciate being dismissed.

“Alexander and Nikolai can take it from here.”

I finally turn to Dorian to find him naked and so close that my breasts press against the top of his abs. My lips part automatically, but he doesn’t kiss me. He never gives me what I want—just what I need.

“You want to explain that look earlier?” he deadpans looking down at me, his voice low and sinister.

“What look?” I slide my hands up onto his shoulders, yet he still doesn’t touch me.

“Between you and my brother. And don’t lie. I know when you lie, and it will just make it worse for you.”

Without looking him in the eye, I give him a carefree smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Suit yourself.”

He kisses me hungrily, angrily, painfully before I even know what's happening. His greedy hands cup my breasts, already so swollen for him, and pinch my nipples hard enough to leave a lingering sting. I yelp into his mouth, and he nips my bottom lip with his teeth.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he rasps, pulling away just enough to utter the words. He doesn’t even give me a chance to answer before he’s kissing me again, smothering my little whimpers and whines with his lips and tongue.

Still devouring my resistance, he parts my thighs and cups my sex possessively, as if he's holding a rare jewel in the palm of his hand. Then, without warning or provocation, he sinks two fingers inside of me to the knuckle.

"What are you doing, Dorian?" I manage to gasp against his demanding lips.

He looks at me—wild with lust…or fury…or both. I feel myself grow hotter, and a bead of sweat trails its way between my breasts. Dorian doesn’t even think about it. He bends his head and licks the salty droplet, his tongue not stopping until his lips are at my jaw. His voice is gruffer than I have ever heard it, and it frightens and entices me. "Reminding you."

I blink once...twice...before good sense returns. "Of what?"

He eases his fingers out slowly, those pale blue eyes lit with passion trained on me, before pushing them back in to the hilt. "Who owns this."

His face is buried in my neck in the next second and he inhales deeply, breathing me and fingering me all at once. He brings us both to heaven with his deviant acts. I try to swallow my screams as his skillful fingers beckon my orgasm, commanding I come for him, but he won't have it. His other hand fists a handful of my hair and pulls so hard that my head snaps back, ensuring that I can see him and only him.

"Scream for me."

I shake my head, scared and embarrassed at what lies just beyond his bedroom door, but he just impales me with his fingers harder, faster. His teeth are on my neck, biting so hard that I swear he's drawn blood. I moan loudly before I can stop myself.

"Scream."

I squeeze my eyes tight and shake my head again, refusing to submit, yet letting him continue to torture me. I could push away; I could make him stop. But I don't want to. The Dark in me needs this—craves this. I lust for this side of Dorian just as much as I adore his gentleness and kindness. But right now...right now I don't want gentle. I need his brand of sin to mark me from the inside out.

As if he’s heard my thoughts, he collects my hands by my wrists and spins me around so I am pressed against the marble counter at the waist. With one hand constricting my arms in front of me and the other still manipulating my sex, Dorian presses his hardness at the seam of my backside, letting me feel his life pulsing between us.

“I told you, little girl, don’t lie to me. I’ll have to punish you. And you know how much I enjoy that.” He parts my legs wider, and I feel the slick head of him at my entrance. I hold my breath, waiting…dying. “Scream for me. Now.”

Every bit of him is inside of me, touching places that only he can touch. He digs into me relentlessly, grunting out his frustration with every hard stroke. He releases my wrists and roughly grasps both my hips so he can fill me even deeper. I choke on a moan and every part of me quivers with need.

“Scream!”

I feel Dorian’s heartbeat radiate throughout my body, his life sustaining mine. Tears roll down my cheeks into the sweat-slicked hair that sticks to my face. I want to cry out. I want to tell him how good he feels.

I want to scream.

I’m at the brink of insanity, looking over the edge, preparing to fall. But I want him to come with me. I need Dorian to hold my hand as I plunge head first into boundless bliss.

“You feel that, baby?” he asks, panting harshly, fighting his own climax. The tempo of his hips increases, pulling at the orgasm pulsing within me. I know he needs this—I know he wants me to let go. And God…I need to. I can’t hold on anymore.

“Dorian!” I rasp, my voice strained with a sob.

“Dammit, Gabriella!” His fingernails score the skin on my hips and he swells within my walls, thrusting deeper than he ever has. It hurts so damn bad…so damn good. More tears fall from the pain of him breaching my womb, but I scream out with sheer, immeasurable pleasure.

We come together—me crying his name over and over, him growling like a vicious, wild beast devouring his prey. It lasts so long that my knees buckle, and Dorian has to hold me up, his arms encircling my body protectively, as we ride out the violent waves of orgasm.

Exhausted and sore, my head lolls back on his shoulder. Dorian kisses my face and neck softly, tasting the salt of sweat and tears.

“I love you, little girl,” he whispers, so sweet and tender.

“I know,” I barely squeak out. I feel so heavy, so helpless. My whole body is under his rule.

He turns my head so I can see the sincerity in those sparkling blue irises. “And you’re mine, as I am yours. That’s all, Gabriella. There is no one else. Forever.”

I swallow, ingesting the gravity of his words. “I know.”

With very little effort, Dorian scoops me up into his arms and carries me into the scalding hot shower. He places me on shaky feet, winding my arms around his neck so he can support my weight while he washes me.

“You were rough,” I mutter into his chest.

“Yes. You wanted me to be. And I needed to be.” His tone is level, not at all brusque or cold like I expect. Like it was just minutes before while he ruined me to the point of pain.

I lift my head to pin him with a scowl. “You wanted to hurt me?”

“No, Gabriella,” he answers, his soapy hands massaging my back. “I wanted to hurt with you. And I wanted you to feel the way you hurt me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Dark part of you…the part that craves carnage and hedonism, it needs to be fed. If you let it go hungry, it may consume you. And you may end up looking for other ways to sate your needs.”

I frown with curiosity. “Like what?”

Dorian lets his soap-slickened hands travel down to my backside, and gently eases his hand to slide against my crease. “Violence, rage…sex.”

“Sex? But I have you—”

“It’s acceptable for our kind to take more than one lover. However, it is not acceptable for me.”

His fingertips caress my puckered flesh and I instantly go still in his arms, distracting me from his earnest declaration. It’s not something I’ve ever tried with anyone, and I’m not sure if I ever want to venture into the backyard.

“Relax, baby,” he coos, circling the rim with a single finger. “Trust me. Lay your head down.”

I do as he says, and he holds me tighter to him, the muscles at his shoulders going tense. He kisses the crown of my head, tucking me under his chin.

“Good girl,” he murmurs in my hair. He applies a little pressure with the tip of his finger, causing me to jerk, yet he holds me firm against his chest. “Shhhh, it’s ok, baby. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

“Dorian, what are you—”

“Breathe me, Gabriella. Take me inside you. And when I do, your body will open to me, just as my power will open to you.”

“But I…I don’t know how,” I whisper, both afraid and exhilarated to feel Dorian’s magic inside me. He’s given me himself before, as I have given him me. But we’ve never done it like this.

“Just breathe, baby. Take me. Feel me flowing deep inside of you.”

Again, I do as he requests, and as the first lungful of Dorian’s magic caresses my senses, I feel the very tip of his finger penetrate my forbidden tightness. I yelp in surprise, and Dorian stills his advance, yet doesn’t retreat. I inhale the base of his neck again, stifling the burn with the sheer bliss of his essence. It doesn’t really hurt, but it feels wrong to have him there, pressing into my most private place.

I smother my face in the warmth of Dorian’s neck, and we both gasp as I take another draw of his power. Every part of me tingles with sensation, and I moan at how good he feels living inside of me. I’m high on his love, drunk with his magic. So much so, that I don’t even protest when I notice his finger slowly moving in and out of me.

I open my mouth to tell him to stop, but find myself moaning instead. Arms still wrapped around his neck, I mute my cries of passion by biting into his shoulder. Dorian groans, but answers my violence by slipping his finger in deeper, stretching me, pushing me to my limits. I quiver in his arms, feeling the fiery coils of pleasure snake up my spine. I don’t fight it this time; I don’t even try. As soon as his other hand slides between our slick, naked bodies and presses against my sensitive mound, I fall apart against his chest, pulsating wildly around Dorian’s finger, stunned and baffled at my body’s reaction to the foreign feeling.

“You did wonderful, baby,” he smiles down at me once I’ve stopped shaking enough to stand up on my own. Dorian laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I pout.

Dorian sucks my protruding bottom lip into his mouth, raking his teeth over it. “Maybe you’re more ready than I initially thought. I expected more resistance from you, stubborn girl.”

I raise a questioning brow. “So you want me to fight?”

“Maybe. Maybe I just like to make you squirm.” He smiles crookedly, and I feel myself melting into a puddle at his feet.

“Maybe you just like to control me,” I say playfully, although there’s something solemn in my words. “Maybe you want to ruin me just so you can make me whole again. So I’m completely dependent on you for pleasure…and for pain.”

Dorian smirks, sex and sin gleaming in his eyes. “Maybe.”

“I NEED TO go to Paralia and check in with Morgan. She probably thinks I’m laying in a ditch somewhere. Can I borrow your car?”

“Absolutely not,” Dorian answers brusquely.

Huh? I yank a t-shirt over my head and cross my arms in front of me, awaiting his answer with more than a touch of attitude. “Well, would you mind giving me a ride?”

“I’ll take you, but I’m not leaving you there alone.”

I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated breath. Here we go again. “Dorian, that’s my home. I’m going to be there alone sometimes. Besides, it’s protected, according to you.”

“Protected from Otherworldlings. Not from humans.”

What the hell? “Otherworldlings?”

Dorian takes a deep breath and tosses a black tee on the bed before striding over to me, his worn jeans still unbuttoned and displaying the sexy V of his defined torso. God, his body will never get old to me. I have to pinch myself just to keep from drooling in my lustful trance.

“Otherworldlings, Gabriella, are those like me. And like you. We are not of the human world. Our kind was birthed long before the existence of man.”

“Got it. Makes sense,” I nod.

“Paralia is warded from most Otherworldlings, Nikolai and Cyrus being the exception. After what happened today, I’m not taking any more chances.”

I roll my eyes. “Who’s going to hurt me, Dorian? Will Morgan attack me with a curling iron? Or will five-pound rat-dog Dolce yap me to death?”

Dorian runs a hand through his still-damp, methodically messy hair, rousing the style into something even more enticing. “Gabriella…”

“Gabriella nothing. And while we’re on the subject, I don’t appreciate you banishing me to the kiddie table either.”

He purses his lips, his nostrils flaring with annoyance. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Um, how about, “Gabriella, go take a long, hot bath. You don’t want to see this. The adults are talking.” Seriously? I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one,” Dorian snaps, his tone so cold I can almost see the condensation of his breath. He scrubs a hand over his face, taking a moment to contemplate his next words. “Gabriella, I lost you once. You died in my arms. I watched as your blood pooled and spilled over onto the floor, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. I don’t want to go through that again. I can’t go through that again.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses both eyelids gently before looking down at me. “You’re my life, little girl. You die, I die with you.”

“And you won’t. You won’t go through that again, Dorian. You have to trust that I can take care of myself.”

“I do, Gabriella. It’s the rest of the world I don’t trust.”

I look up at his earnest expression, seeing all the love I have for him reflected in his eyes. As barbaric and old-fashioned as he can be, I know that all he wants is to keep me safe. And if the tables were turned, I’d be the same way. See, 20-year old, human Gabriella would have stomped her feet until she got her way or defied him behind his back. Older, wiser, ascended Gabriella realizes how lucky she is just to have Dorian in her life. Hell, she’s lucky to even be alive.

“Fine,” I huff.

“Fine?”

“Fine. We’ll do things your way if you feel I’m really in danger. But no more hiding things from me, ok? I’m not so fragile anymore.”

Dorian pulls my body against his so we’re chest to chest, our heartbeats thrumming together in synchronized harmony. “No, not fragile. But I can still break you.”

WE STEP OUT into the living room to find that we’re alone. A wave of relief washes over me as I realize that our raucous shower session may not have been audible for both Alexander and Niko. Not only that, the room is completely restored into its usual meticulous state. The mahogany hutch is no longer reduced to a pile of splintered wood against the wall. Lamps and vases are neatly placed in their designated spots, fully intact. And the grand chandelier hangs above us, affixed with a thousand crystal teardrops.

I shake my head at the sheer brilliance that is my Dark Prince. Even if he is a little OCD, he is mine. Besides, his neurosis pales in comparison to my colorful circus of crazy.

“Nikolai and Alexander left to handle the…body. They’re waiting downstairs in the car,” Dorian says, grabbing his butter-soft, worn leather jacket. It’s overcast today, and with this many Dark forces inhabiting the town of Colorado Springs, I wouldn’t be surprised if it started pouring down rain.

When we arrive at Paralia’s gates, Niko pulls over to the shoulder before we can cross the threshold.

“You have to let Alex in, D,” he says from the driver’s seat. “You know he can’t get through.”

Dorian stares daggers at the back of Alex’s head from his seat beside me in the back. “Do I?”

I nudge him with my elbow. “Yes. You do.” I don’t understand his misplaced animosity. Alexander is his best friend, and my father. Why does he seem so wary of the man he spent the better part of a century with?

Dorian peers down at me from the corner of his eye, and the edge of his mouth twitches before he leans forward to grasp Alexander’s shoulder. The backseat window beside him descends just as a clap of thunder rattles the sky, slicing open the heavens. He closes his eyes, drawing strength and energy from the rapidly brewing storm, and begins to chant, a low hum in the Dark tongue.

“What’s he doing?” I whisper, scooting closer to Niko.

“Opening the ward and extending it around Alexander. Watch.”

As soon as he says the words, a pearlescent sheen manifests around the perimeter of the apartment complex, extending for almost two blocks. I watch in awe as it bends and shimmies, almost pulsating in an array of muted color. Dorian calls out to it, concentrating furiously to avoid breaking it as it stretches like a rubber band around the vehicle.

“See, Gabs,” Niko whispers, his own gaze full of wonder. “It’s delicate—fragile. You can’t just call out a few commands and expect it to yield. Magic takes patience and finesse. You have to nurture your power and it will work for you.”

The glimmering pastel glow around the SUV draws back towards the edge of the gate until it snaps back into place. Then it dims from sight, returning to its role as an invisible defense. Niko takes his Range Rover out of Park and drives through the gated entrance, waving at the guard. When we pull up to my apartment and get out, I realize I don’t have my key.

“Shit. My purse…all my things. I had it yesterday in the parking lot.” I knock on the door, but don’t hear shuffling on the other side. I look to the parking lot and spot my roommate’s red Mustang in her usual space. “Morgan’s car is here. She should be awake by now.”

“Let me,” Dorian says.

Before I can turn to respond, he’s unlocking and opening the door for us…from inside. But I don’t even get a chance to react. Alarm tingeing his bright blue eyes, Dorian grasps my body and spins me around, placing my front to his back.

“Something’s wrong.”

No.

No no no no.

Both Niko and Alexander instantly go to stand at Dorian’s sides, shielding my body from whatever danger lies ahead. I try to peer over them, and I catch the sight of our living room, completely destroyed. Couch cushions have been tossed to the floor. Magazines, CDs, books, photos all have been ripped from their homes and left in a disheveled mess. Dolce is in his kennel, yapping and whining for relief. That’s not right; Morgan loves that dog. There’s no way she’d leave him locked up at this time of the day.

“Morgan,” I barely croak out, fear constricting my voice. “Oh my God, where’s Morgan?”

“Gabriella, I want you to go back to the car and lock the doors,” Dorian orders in a serious tone.

“No, Dorian. I’m not leaving. I don’t care what you say. Where is Morgan? I need to find her!”

“I smell her,” Niko says, although I get the feeling he wasn’t talking to me. “And…”

“Yeah,” Dorian nods. “I smell it too. A lot of it.”

“What does that mean? Where is she? Is she here? Somebody answer me!” I screech, trying to force my way through the tiny space between their bodies. The three of them are strong, and being the novice that I am, I can barely get them to budge.

“Gabriella, I told you—”

“Fuck what you told me!” I scream, pushing at Dorian’s back. “Morgan is my best friend. I am finding her, dammit!”

I finally break through the wall of rigid muscle and dart down the hall to Morgan’s room. I feel Dorian right on my heels, but I’m already at her door, turning the knob, shrieking in horror, surprise, fear…

“Oh my God, Morgan!” I scream, rushing to where she lays on the bed. I cradle her limp body in my arms as gently as I can, but I’m shaking uncontrollably. “What did you do, Morgan? What did you do to yourself?”

Morgan turns her head to look up at me, yet her vision is far away. She gives me a weak smile and slowly touches a bloody finger to my face. “I tried to call you, Gabs,” she replies in a hoarse whisper. “I tried to call you all night.”

Dorian rushes over to wrap her wrist in cloth to stop the bleeding, but I know it’s too late. We’re too late. Morgan has already lost too much blood. Her once beautiful, mocha complexion is ashen with blood loss, and her skin is cool to the touch. Much too cool for a human. A kitchen knife lies amongst the sea of crimson that was once Morgan’s bed, along with an opened bottle of prescription pain meds, all of which are gone.

“Why, Morgan?” I cry, rocking her body in my arms. “Why would you do this? Why would you hurt yourself like this?”

She makes an effort to swallow and her dry lips crack and split. “All night I called you, Gabs. I was so scared. They kept…coming. They wouldn’t leave me alone. So many…so many of them.”

“Who, Morgan? Who keeps coming?”

Morgan makes a throaty humming sound before letting her eyelids close. “I’m so tired, Gabs. I tried to call you.”

Anguished tears cloud my vision as I watch my best friend slip away. Why would she do something like this? If anything, Morgan and narcissism go hand-in-hand. She loves herself too damn much to ever try to commit suicide.

“The house is clear,” Alexander announces from the doorframe. “No sign of intrusion. Not even a trace of another human for several hours.”

Niko comes to stand beside us, checking her vitals while Dorian keeps pressure on the deep, 3-inch-long laceration on her wrist. “You have to heal her, baby girl,” he says to me grimly. “If you don’t do it soon, she’ll die.”

“But I don’t know how,” I cry, shaking my head. I turn to Dorian who looks just as grave. “Please help her. You’ve done it before; maybe you could do it again.”

“I wish I could, baby. But I healed you out of love and the agony of my own heart breaking. I couldn’t go back to that place inside me unless it was you. And even then, I probably wouldn’t be able to do it, seeing as I failed earlier. I’m so sorry.”

“But you can, Gabs,” Niko urges. “Just like we talked about earlier. You have to nurture your power; you have to romance it. You can’t do it out of fear. Channel all your feelings for her. Think about everything you’ve been through together and what a great friend she’s been to you. Focus on the times you’ve laughed together, cried together. How she always knew just what to say to make you smile even when you didn’t want to. Even when the world was so dark and bleak that you couldn’t bear to.”

Niko touches my face, brushing away a tear. I look up to find his own emotion brimming his eyes. “Save her with love, Gabs. If anything can bring her back, it’s love.”

Although I’m confused by his heartfelt candor, I believe every single word he speaks. I can feel his truth stir deep inside me, warming my rapidly beating heart until heat radiates down my arms to my fingertips. I touch them to my eyes that somehow feel unbelievably cold, freezing the wet sorrow that rolled down my cheeks just seconds before. What is happening to me? The question is in my head, yet my body moves all on instinct, as if it is no longer mine. As if I have relinquished all control to the magic coursing through my veins. As if I have become it.

“Look at me, Morgan,” I say, my voice not quite my own. Her eyes open instantly and peer up to me like I’ve flicked some unseen switch. One hand cradles her face so our gazes are aligned, while the other hovers over the wound in her wrist, surrounded in an auburn haze.

And then I feel it.

My mind touching hers. My thoughts, my emotions, I press it all into my friend, willing my power to heal her. For my magic to seal the wound in her right wrist and purge the drugs from her system.

I can do this; I can be strong enough for the both of us. Morgan has always been what I wish I could be: fearless, glamorous and undoubtedly confident. I can’t lose her. I can’t let her go when I need her so desperately. Maybe even more now than ever before.

“It’s happening,” I hear Niko say, but I can’t look to see for myself. I can’t lose the connection.

“I’ve never seen it happen before. I didn’t realize just how…amazing…it would be,” Alexander gasps with astonishment.

“She’s amazing,” Dorian says. I feel a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Strong. And she’ll continue to get stronger. Her magic will be the most magnificent that this world has ever seen.”

Morgan twitches in my arms as I fill her with myself. My essence touches her marred flesh, pulling it together and sealing it with fresh skin. The toxins from the pills she popped seep from her pores and dissipate into sick-smelling vapors.

When every last drop is expelled from her body, I let my strained eyes closed, breaking the link. Morgan falls into a peaceful sleep, sagging in my arms with exhaustion.

“Let’s get her cleaned up and move her,” Dorian says, slipping his arms under her back to hoist her up. “She won’t want to wake up to this.”

Alexander follows Dorian out of the room to help. I grab Niko’s arm before he does the same.

“Thank you, Niko,” I say weakly as a wave of exhaustion washes over me. “How did you know? How did you know all that stuff back at the hotel, and just now? Have you done this before?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “But I tried to. And I would have given my life for it to have worked.”

His eyes drop to the floor and he escapes out of the blood-covered bedroom, leaving me with the scent of death and even more unanswered questions.

AFTER DISCARDING MORGAN’S clothes and changing her into a loose nightgown, we leave her to rest on the couch while Niko and Alexander pick up whatever they can salvage of our belongings. Dorian insists on ushering me to my room to clean up, following me like a shadow.

“What?” I ask, peeling off my blood-soaked clothing. His hovering is really starting to irritate me.

“How do you feel?”

I shrug. “Fine, I guess. A little tired.”

“That’s normal. Do you need me?”

Need him? At first I think he means sex or cuddling or some other form of human comfort, but then I get the connotation.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m fine, really. Plus, I took so much of you earlier.”

Dorian chews his luscious bottom lip, his baby blue gaze falling to the ground. “Do you want…Nikolai?”

I pause from the task of removing my jeans mid-tug and frown. “What?”

“Would you rather breathe him?”

I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Dorian, what are you talking about?”

He takes a step toward me, yet he doesn’t look me in the eye. “You two have a connection. It’s obvious. He seems to bring out your abilities, and you feel at ease with him. Maybe it’s him you need.”

I narrow my eyes in confusion, unsure of what I’m hearing. Dorian Skotos is the most self-assured man I know—human or supernatural. He’s eons beyond any woman’s wildest fantasy and more than I could ever dream of deserving. How the hell could he be insecure of the strictly platonic relationship I have with his younger brother?

It was Dorian who ordered Niko to watch over me when he ran off to play house with Aurora. He was the one who trusted his brother to stay with me because he was an asshole that couldn’t control his goddamn hormones and made a sex tape with said super-bitch. Niko has been nothing but trustworthy and understanding. How could Dorian ever doubt him? How could he ever doubt me?

I huff out my aggravation as I kick off my jeans and walk over to him, still wearing my blood-stained undergarments. “There’s nothing going on with your brother and me, Dorian. You said you trusted me.”

His crystal blue eyes meet mine. “I do.”

“And you trust your brother, right? Since you obviously trusted him with my life.”

Dorian nods, and a lock of black hair falls over his forehead. Under normal circumstances, I would brush it back, just to feel the soft, silky strands between my fingers, but his suspicion has me feeling less than warm and fuzzy.

“Where is this coming from, Dorian? Your behavior towards my father—your best friend—and this doubt you’re having with Niko? I don’t get it.”

Dorian rests his hands on my shoulders, fingering the bloodied bra straps. He slides them down slowly before caressing the indentions left behind in my skin. I feel the clasp on my back come undone, one hook at a time, without his fingers even touching it at all. When I am completely topless, my breasts heavy and on display, he quirks a crooked grin.

“I can’t help but be possessive of what I have. Look at you—have you any idea what you do to me? How crazy and out of control you make me feel? How I count the minutes…seconds…until I can touch you again? Feel your skin against mine, burning me. Marking me with unrelenting desire?”

With a wicked gleam in his eye, he palms my breasts, running the pads of his thumbs over my quickly pebbling nipples. I know exactly what he’s doing—distracting me. Not only making me release my irritation, but forcing me to forget why I was even annoyed in the first place.

I’m arching into his touch, my body begging for his distraction to erase all the bad that’s happened in the last hour, when there’s a knock on my bedroom door. Before either of us can answer, Niko pops his head in, getting a good look at me almost completely naked, my swollen breasts in his brother’s hands.

“Oh shit, um, sorry I didn’t realize…” he stammers, trying to look away, but failing.

“What do you want?” Dorian grits out, jaw tightly clenched. He maneuvers his body to block mine, but I’m sure Niko has already gotten more than an eyeful. Wouldn’t be the first time. He’d already undressed me when I was too distraught to do it myself after discovering a very explicit home video starring Dorian and Aurora. If he was truly interested in my body, he probably could have had it already. He could have had me. Considering my mental state that night, I would have done anything to numb the pain. Sad, but true.

Niko shifts uncomfortably at the door, battling with the impulse to let his crystal blue eyes find my naked skin. “I thought you’d want to know…Morgan is stirring. She’ll want to see you when she wakes up.”

“Thank you, Niko,” I respond, looking up at a stone-faced Dorian. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

I’m still too stunned to respond. And even if I could, my words would be like gasoline on an already kindling flame.

“Understand this,” Dorian says to me as soon as we hear the click of my bedroom door close. “I am a patient, rational man, Gabriella. But there are things that can, and will, cause me to act irrationally. You are one of them. Do I make myself clear?”

Then he’s gone in a haze of grey smoke, leaving me speechless and dumbfounded. I shake off his chilly demeanor and hop in the shower to quickly wash away the remnants of Morgan’s flaking, dried blood. I don’t have time to deal with Dorian’s mood swings. I can’t consider his fragility right now, not when I have to think about the ones that are really fragile. The ones that slice open their wrists from their palm to their forearm, just to bleed out all the fear and pain.

I emerge from the bedroom to find Niko and Alexander hovering silently over Morgan’s body. Dorian isn’t in the immediate area, and part of me thinks it’s for the best. I may have to lean on someone other than him for strength—both mentally and physically—and I don’t want it to spark even more friction between us.

Ugh. Happy fucking birthday to me.

“Where’s Dorian?” Alexander asks, a small frown lining his forehead.

“Don’t know,” I shrug, sitting in the space beside Morgan on the couch. “How is she?”

“Her vitals are steady,” he answers, touching his fingers to her wrist. He looks up at me and gives me what I’m sure he deems an encouraging, fatherly smile. “She’ll be fine. You were incredible, Gabriella. You saved her life. I’m so very proud of you. Your mother would have been too.”

I shrug, my cheeks warm. “Thanks. And thank you for being here…for helping with my friend.”

Alexander nods before laying a timid hand on mine. He flinches at first, still not accustomed to the feel of my skin, but he doesn’t pull away. He’s here for me. My father has fought to survive…for me.

“You are very brave. Like Natalia. I see so much of her in you that it hurts. But a good hurt. The kind of hurt that makes me grateful that I’m alive.”

A beat passes as he just gazes at me, his beautiful face filled with nostalgia, before Morgan begins to rouse from sleep. I look back at Alexander and Niko, apology in my tight smile.

“Do you mind giving us some privacy? I don’t want to scare her.”

As expected, they both shake their heads. But Niko speaks up first.

“Hell no. Hell-fucking-no, baby girl.”

“Why not? She won’t hurt me.”

“You have no idea what she’s capable of. I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest, giving me his best “I mean business” face. Yet all I can focus on is the way his sleeves seem to hug his chiseled biceps. Something pulls and clenches inside me as the memory of Niko’s body wrapped around mine protectively pops into the forefront of my mind. A moment so sweet could easily turn oh-so-sexy with just the slip of a hand or graze of a thigh…

What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be harboring thoughts like that right now. I shouldn’t be harboring thoughts like that ever.

I shake my head, forcing the memory back to the forbidden corner of my mind, and peg them both with pleading eyes. “Please. She’s my friend, and I need her to feel safe. She’s been through hell. I don’t want to confuse her even more, ok?”

Alexander looks to Niko, who still wears a stubborn scowl. “Nikolai, give her what she desires. She’s a smart girl. If she thinks this is for the best, we should respect her wishes.”

A long moment passes between us before Niko huffs out a breath. “Fine. We’ll be in the kitchen. But if anything happens—if she even breathes wrong—I’m coming over.”

I nod. “Deal.”

The two walk over to the kitchen, disappearing from sight, as I watch Morgan’s eyelids begin to flutter. They open slowly before focusing on my face. When she doesn’t scream in horror, I finally allow myself to feel a sense of relief. She’s back. My friend has come back to me.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.”

“Gabs? What the…what happened?” She scrambles to sit up, clutching her wrist. When her hand comes up completely clean, devoid of blood, her eyes widen with shock and her mouth goes slack. “What happened to me, Gabs? How did this…how can this be?”

“How do you feel?” I ask in my calmest voice, as if she isn’t trembling in front of me, confused and afraid.

“I don’t know. I-I don’t know what happened. And you…how did you... What did you do to yourself?” Morgan stammers. She reaches a shaky hand toward me, but drops it before her finger touches my face. “Your eyes...what happened to your eyes?”

Shit. I didn’t even think to do something about my appearance. There’s hardly an easy explanation to spontaneously spawning one blue and one golden eye.

“I’ll explain later,” I lie, knowing I’ll never be able to share my true identity with her. I know I’ll have to enlist one of the guys to help me out with covering my ass. “Right now, I want to talk about what happened last night.

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Morgan’s eyes go glassy and she shakes her head. I can see that whatever terror lies just beneath the surface is ready to manifest at any moment.

“Last night, I had been trying to call you, but you wouldn’t pick up. I was just about to go to bed around midnight, when I thought I saw you in the hallway. I called out, but there wasn’t an answer. So I went to ask you where the hell you’d been when…”

Morgan sucks in a sharp breath of air, her lips quivering with fear. I don’t want to push her, but I need to know what happened. “Go ahead, Morgan. It’s alright.”

She shakes her head again, eyes closed tight, trying to erase the memory. “It wasn’t you, Gabs. It wasn’t you.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know.” When Morgan opens her deep brown eyes, a solitary tear rolls down her cheek. “But it wasn’t alive. None of them were. I could…see…what killed them. How they died.”

They? Holy fuck.

I look across the room at Niko, then Alexander, searching for a logical explanation. They both share the same look of bewilderment, rivaling my own wide-eyed dread. “Morgan, are you saying you were haunted by…ghosts?”

“I know what I saw!” she cries, more tears wetting her cheeks. She shivers like she’s been dipped in an ice bath, yet her forehead begins to bead with sweat. “ I swear! I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy!”

“I know, honey,” I coo, trying to calm her. “I know you’re not crazy.”

“So you believe me?” she asks, hysteria in her stare. “You believe me, right, Gabs? I wouldn’t make this shit up! I wouldn’t…do that…to myself if I had any other choice!”

“I know you wouldn’t. But I have to ask...why did you do it? Why didn’t you have a choice?”

She struggles to swallow down her terror as if it’s choking her. “They kept talking to me…kept telling me to do it. I had to. They wouldn’t get out of my head, Gabs. They wouldn’t leave me alone!”

In a fit of immeasurable horror and insanity, Morgan begins to fist her hair, pulling at it as if to pull the memories right from her skull. I beg for her to stop, but I don’t want to lose control. I can’t let her see me yet. Not when she is in such a fragile state.

“Stop it, Morgan! Stop before you hurt yourself!”

With a broken sob, she pounds her fists against her temples over and over, shaking her head. “I can’t, Gabs,” she cries. “I can’t go through that again. Please don’t make me!”

She hits herself even harder, and as gently as I can, I pry her fists from her face. “I’m here, Morgan. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

Just as she begins to calm under my touch—her heartbeat slowing, her breathing steadier—Dorian walks through the front door, cracking the hell of Morgan’s mind wide open and unleashing her demons.

“Oh my God, Gabs. It’s here. Oh my God, no!” Morgan snatches her hands away from me and cowers in the farthest corner of the couch, covering her mouth with trembling hands.

“What’s here, Morgan?” I look from her to Dorian, who cautiously makes his way toward us. Niko and Alexander are right behind him.

“Don’t turn around, Gabs,” she whispers frantically, her wide, terrified eyes fixed on the men that stand just a foot away. “They said this would happen. They said it would come.”

“Morgan, calm down. It’s just Dorian. You know him. And his brother, Niko—remember him? And their…”

“No, Gabs! No!” She swiftly moves to my side, gripping my arms so hard that her fingernails break the skin. “I should have listened! They told me it would come for me! They told me!”

I grasp Morgan’s shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “What would come, Morgan? What is coming for you?”

It’s like she’s looking right through me. My best friend—my sister—is right here in front of me, breaking in my hands. The girl I knew and loved is crumbling, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Dry lips trembling, she whispers the word that’s filled my nightmares for the past year. “Darkness.”

I turn back to the three Warlocks standing behind me, each wearing varied faces of shock and rage. “What do I do?”

Alexander opens his mouth to answer, but quickly closes it, letting the painful solution die on his tongue. Niko shifts beside him, his jaw clenched with irritation. I can literally feel him radiating with anger.

“Fuck, she can see us,” he mutters furiously. Then, before I even know what he’s doing, he darts in front of us and brushes a hand across her forehead, sending her into unconsciousness.

“What the hell did you do?” I shriek, cradling her sagging frame.

“She’s fine. I just knocked her out so we have a chance to deflect. We don’t need her screaming and crying like a lunatic.” He shakes his head in frustration. “You have to know that she’s a threat to us all now. She’s seen us. She’ll have to be dealt with…permanently.”

“What?”

He tries to meet my eyes, but I refuse his gaze. “Your friend is a liability. I know that’s hard for you to understand, but if we don’t act now, she could—”

“No! You won’t hurt her!” I cry, shaking my head. “Can’t you just spell her to forget or something?”

“I told you before, Gabs—the magic flowing through her veins is unnatural. And now that her sight seems to be amplified, it can be dangerous for our kind. There’s no guarantee that a spell would last. We can’t risk that, especially not now.”

Angry tears fill my eyes, but I swipe them away, refusing to accept the harsh truth he speaks. I could save Morgan; I could force them to spare her life. But then what? How will I explain what’s happening to her when I don’t understand it myself? How will I explain me? And even if I manage to make sense of it all, would she believe me? And would she vow to keep my secret?

“I can make her understand,” I say without thinking twice. I look to Dorian, begging him to understand. If anyone is capable of mercy and empathy, it’s him. “Morgan is my friend; she loves me. She would never do anything to hurt me.”

“It’s forbidden,” Alexander interjects, shaking his head. “Humans cannot know of our existence. I’m sorry, child. Your friend could be harmful to all of us. You, especially.”

I narrow my gaze at him. “So you’re telling me no other humans have ever known about the Light and the Dark? Donna? Chris?” I look to Niko, who had always shown me acceptance and compassion. “You told me you loved a human once. Are you going to say she didn’t know what you are?”

Pain and longing washes over him, but he doesn’t say a word. He just looks at me, unblinking, reliving the agony of his lost love. I hate myself for doing that to him, but at this point, I’m desperate.

“She won’t say anything. And even if she did—who would she tell? How would she even explain it?”

“You don’t know that for sure, Gabriella. She’s seen us, and someone may actually find truth in her words. We can deflect, but the damage has already been done. And her mind may be beyond reasoning right now,” Dorian retorts, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. I feel him—I feel his solace seeping into me—but it’s not enough to dissuade me.

“Please, Dorian,” I plead, looking down at Morgan, sleeping peacefully in my arms. “She needs us like I needed you when I first found what you were. Remember how you spared me? How you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me? For love?”

I gaze at each of them through teary eyes—Niko, Alexander then back to Dorian. “You’ve each chosen to save a life despite what that meant for you. You saved mine. So you know what it means to truly be selfless. And good. And kind. Please…show me that now. I need you—all of you—to be that for me now.”

With a resigning breath, Dorian nods before leaning over to gently kiss my hair, letting my scent fill his lungs. Then he takes hold of Morgan’s slumped body and drags his fingertips across her forehead. She wakes with a start, but Dorian instantly aligns his gaze with hers before panic fully sets in.

“Listen to me, Morgan. You’re ok. You’re safe now.”

Morgan tries to thrash against him, resisting his influence. But it only takes mere seconds before his stare penetrates her blood-shot eyes, pushing into the core of her psyche. She exhales and sags against the couch cushion, releasing her will to him.

“You’re safe here, Morgan. You know me. I need you to calm down and listen to us. We aren’t here to hurt you. But if you scream or fight, we’ll have no other choice. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she squeaks, her voice hoarse from screaming.

“Good, Morgan.” Dorian turns to me and places her hands in mine. “She’s all yours. Just don’t push too hard. You want her to absorb what you’re saying, not bend to your will. Push too hard and you could cause permanent damage.”

I nod and try to swallow down the rising apprehension. “No pressure.”

Dorian gives me a small, encouraging smile, and I’m nearly distracted by the curve of his lips. “You’ll do great. I’m right here with you. Go ahead—talk to her. She’ll listen.”

I muster up whatever courage I have left and position myself directly in front of Morgan, ensuring that my skin doesn’t break contact with hers. I think back to that day in the mall less than a year ago—the day a body was found in a mall dressing room. That security guard…the way he instantly went from freaking-the-fuck-out to calm and compliant the moment I touched his skin—that was me. I did that. I didn’t understand it then, and even though I know it’s the only thing keeping Morgan from jumping off the nearest bridge, I don’t really understand it now.

“Morgan, you know who I am, right?” I ask nervously, unsure of how to start.

“Yes,” she nods slowly. Her voice is still hoarse, but it’s devoid of hysteria. “Of course, I do. We’ve been best friends for years.”

“We have,” I smile, relieved that she stills sees me as…well…me. I can still be Gabs to her. I just have to make her see that. “You know that I was adopted, right?”

“Yes. By Chris and Donna.”

“That’s right.” I turn around and nod to Alexander, signaling for him to step forward. He comes to stand on the other side of me, and I feel Dorian’s hand tense on my shoulder. I can’t think of that right now. And even if I could, that’s Dorian’s issue. Not mine.

“Morgan this…this is my biological father, Alexander.”

Alex tips his head, yet doesn’t make a move to come any closer. “Hello, Morgan.”

“No way,” Morgan gasps. I feel the blood in her veins rush faster and hear her heart rate spike, yet she doesn’t struggle out of my grasp. She’s still receptive.

“Yes, Morgan. Alexander is my father.”

Her eyes are wide and animated as she takes in the tall, tanned skin Adonis in front of her. “But he’s so young. And…gorgeous. Not to say that a gorgeous man can’t be your father, but…he’s …” She looks back at me and squints, trying to wrap her head around it. “How? How is that even possible?”

A sense of fear and exhilaration run through me as I prepare to tell another living soul what I’ve been concealing since all this was sprung on me a year ago. There were times where I felt so alone in this because I had virtually no one to talk to. And now…now I get my best friend.

“Morgan, the four of us—me, Dorian, Alexander and Niko—aren’t exactly human.”

“What?” Her heartbeat stutters, and I feel a slight tremble in her hands. Dorian gives my shoulder a squeeze, telling me that my hold is slipping. I lock eyes with Morgan and push my influence just a little deeper into her mind. Just enough to calm her so she can digest what I’m saying.

“We’re…different. Special. And we have certain abilities. Immortality is one of them.”

She looks up to the beautiful creatures standing before us, modern gods disguised in dark designer threads. Right now, she sees features so stunning that they could have been painted by da Vinci, and bodies that even Michelangelo couldn’t sculpt without blushing. That’s what they want her to see. That’s what they had hoped she—and everyone else—would only see.

“But...their faces…” She squeezes my hands so hard that her knuckles turn white. Terror creeps back onto her face, but I don’t push it away. I let her feel it. I let her own her emotions. They aren’t mine to manipulate or steal away. “Just minutes ago, they were monsters. I saw them with my own eyes. I don’t understand.”

I smile, hoping to ease her trepidation, but she doesn’t return the sentiment. Her gaze just keeps jumping from me to the men standing behind me, mirroring their frustration.

“Are you like them? Are you telling me you’re like them, Gabs?” she asks, accusation in her voice.

“I am,” I nod. “But different.”

“But you’re not a monster, are you? You don’t look like them.” She blinks rapidly and frowns, as if she is trying to see who I truly am. As if she hoping to get a glimpse of my own shade of evil.

Morgan tries to pull her hands away, but I squeeze them with more pressure, refusing to let her escape my hold. “They aren’t monsters, Morgan. They helped you. They helped me. You just have to trust me on this.”

“Trust you? How can I trust you, Gabs? You’re telling me you aren’t even human! What are you—some type of alien or a vampire or some bullshit like that? Do you sparkle in the damn sun? Do you turn into an oversized mutt or something? Shit, are you even alive?”

I feel Niko’s hand on my other shoulder. “Gabs,” he warns, urging me to strip away Morgan’s rising anxiety. I shrug it off, hoping…praying…I can get through to her. That somewhere underneath all her skepticism, that she loves me enough to know that she can trust me wholeheartedly. I don’t want to take away her free will or manipulate her emotions—I won’t do to her what had been done to me. Her acceptance of me needs to be organic.

“Listen, Morgan. It’s not what you think. They…we…aren’t aliens or vampires or anything like that.” I pause to take a breath, frantically searching for the words without sounding completely ridiculous. My gaze flicks up to Dorian, and I silently plead for help.

“We are what you and other humans would consider witches and warlocks,” he says, answering my desperate prayer. “But that’s putting it mildly. Centuries ago, the creator of all things—the Divine Power—created us to rule the night. We are called Dark Ones. In the same respect, he created Light Enchanters, rulers of the day. Together we are the purest form of magic. The original power. And Gabriella is both Light and Dark, making her the most powerful of us all.”

Morgan’s brown eyes grow so wide that they touch her eyebrows. She looks at me like she wants to believe Dorian’s words but can’t. Like she’s trying to see the magic in me but her logic won’t let her. “No. Fucking. Way. A witch, Gabs? Seriously? Are you guys fucking high?”

“No,” I reply shaking my head. “As much as I wish I weren’t, I’m stone-cold sober. It’s true, Morgan. I found out a year ago—the same day I first met Dorian—what I actually am and what I was destined to be when I turned twenty-one. Today.”

She shakes her head frantically, refusing to trust my words. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe what you’re telling me. I won’t believe it. Magic? That’s fucking ridiculous! It doesn’t exist. Witches, warlocks…whatever you are…it doesn’t fucking exist!”

In one swift movement, I flip over her hands to expose her wrists. The skin is a bit cold to the touch, paper-thin and almost iridescent, yet otherwise unmarred. “Look, Morgan. What do you see? When we found you, you were dying. Dying! How do you explain this? What could have possibly happened to make you heal so quickly?”

Morgan looks down at her arms, studying the smooth skin that once was open and bleeding with a laceration down to the bone. “I can’t believe it. It can’t be.”

“You know in your heart that what I’m telling you is true, don’t you? Remember what you told me about your grandmother? Remember you said that she came to you when we were at Breckenridge? I believed you, Morgan. Without question, I believed you. I need you to do that for me now. And I promise, I’ll explain more when I can. But for now, just hear what I’m saying to you. Everything that you thought was myth is real. The world that you know is so much more complex than you could ever imagine. Magic is real. And whatever happened to you last night—whatever pushed you to that point of desperation—has tied you to mine, whether you like it or not.

In an act of assurance, or maybe just flat-out stupidity, I remove my hands from hers, completely stepping out on faith and hoping that she—my friend and sister—truly hears me. “I’m not going anywhere, Morgan. So you can fight me—you can kick and scream—but until we find out what happened to you, you’re stuck with me. With all of us.”

Silent moments turn into several minutes as she ponders my vehement declaration. Rehashing all the stories about her grandmother and her heritage that she thought was all nonsense. Remembering that night on our ski trip that had her shaken and teary-eyed when her grandmother appeared to her, warning her of the darkness that lurked nearby. She knew then. She knew there were things beyond our world that science and logic could not explain. Things so much more complex than our vapid little realm of shopping and club-hopping.

Morgan knows. I can see it in her. I can feel it in her. She believes me. Now I just hope she will believe in me.

“You know this is incredibly fucked up, right?”

I give a one-shoulder shrug and nod. “I know.”

She shakes her head. “And you know only a mental patient would believe this story. That you have to be absolutely insane to take stock in any of this shit.”

“I know.”

She takes a resigning breath before looking up at me, her eyes devoid of any inkling of rage or fear. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m crazy as hell.”

“SO LET ME get this straight: Alexander is your father. And Dorian’s ex-partner in the Shadow, which is basically an organization of assassins. Assassins that were hunting your mother and vice versa.”

I nod at Morgan. “Right.”

“And your mother was a Light Enchanter—like a good witch—and sworn enemy of the Dark.”

“More or less.”

“And somehow you’re both, right? Light and Dark. Which explains the freaky eye shit. By the way, we have to get you some contacts or something, because it’s kinda cool, but mostly creepy as hell.”

I laugh, shaking my head. Leave it up to Morgan to make light of a situation like this.

“Ok. So when your parents were caught, Alex was supposed to be executed?”

“Yes.”

“And Dorian was spared as well. On the terms that he would kill you before you ass—um—ascen—”

“Ascended. Yes. Before my ascension on my 21st birthday.”

“But he didn’t. He fell in love with you. And defied his father, who is like the hot-shit king of the Dark, making Dorian and Niko princes?”

“Correct.”

Morgan’s eyes grow wide with excitement. “Holy shit, Gabs! So if you marry Dorian, you become like a princess or something? Or—hell—a queen?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head before Morgan’s imagination runs away from her. “It’s not like that. Dorian and I…we won’t…that won’t happen.”

“So you’re good enough to seduce, but not good enough to marry,” Alexander snorts, malice in his voice. “Figures.”

“Be very careful,” Dorian warns, sitting on the couch beside me. I can feel the rising anger radiating from his frame.

“Wait a minute. So how does Niko fit into all this? Was he part of the Shadow too?” Morgan meets my eyes and gives me a wink, telling me she’s got the situation under control. Leave it up to her to know exactly how to handle men—even deadly, immortal ones.

Alex clears his throat and turns back to Morgan, his expression softening. “No, he wasn’t. But he was the one who brought me here.”

“But Cyrus was the one who rescued him before he could be put to death,” Niko adds.

Morgan turns to Niko, brows raised in confusion. “Cyrus?”

“Our cousin. And vampire.”

She shakes her head and throws up her hands, as if she’s just maxed out her weird-shit intake for the year. “Oh hell no. You did not just say vampire.”

Niko jumps into the history of the Dark and the Light, and how the existence of vampires came to be, so I take the opportunity to excuse myself to the kitchen in a quest to throw something edible together. The verdict? I’d be a shitty housewife. Other than alcohol and junk food, we have nothing remotely nutritious in the house. If it weren’t for Donna’s Sunday dinners, I’d live solely on a diet of beer and Cheetos. Now that’s an attractive thought.

Obviously, things weren’t like that when Dorian and I were together. He cared for me to the point of fawning over me. I have to admit, it made me feel cherished. Precious. He wanted me to be deliriously happy and healthy. And I was.

Until he left.

Losing him devastated me. Losing him to Aurora completely demolished me.

I couldn’t see Dorian’s motives beyond my pain. And even though he’d been hurting too, I’d hated him for doing that to me. For loving me just to leave me. I would have rather turned out to be a single cat lady than have felt the blow of his abandonment for one more day. Being loved by Dorian is like having the sweetest wine on your tongue while resting on a bed of clouds. But when that love is stolen away, there is no taste. No feeling. My heart and mind had become numb because I couldn’t stand to feel one more ounce of agony.

“Lost in thought?”

I look up from the mugs of steaming hot coffee and my eyes delve into an endless ocean of blue. I smile, gratitude filling my chest until I feel I may burst with pride. “Something like that.”

Dorian takes the coffee carafe from my hand and sets it down on the counter before pulling my body into his. “Happy thoughts, I hope.”

“Maybe,” I say, mimicking his vagueness from earlier.

My Dark prince gives me that wicked half-grin and a surge of pleasurable prickles runs over the surface of my skin. When I gasp in surprise, his smile expands. “Oh, Gabriella. When will you learn? You shouldn’t play games with someone who doesn’t play fair.”

“Asshole,” I grit through the fire ignited in my belly and the sparking heat between my thighs. Shit. This is not the time for this.

“Oh?” Another rush of sensation rips through me, pushing that ball of fire deeper…lower.

I open my mouth to retort, but Dorian grasps my chin and guides my mouth to his, smothering my protest. Then, just as abruptly as he kissed me, he pulls his lips away, yet keeps his forehead touching mine.

“I’m sorry, little girl,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“For being…jealous. Jealousy is not a Dark emotion. We have no need for it.” I feel his eyebrows crease against mine.

“You have no need for it, Dorian. You have nothing to be jealous about. I came back for you. Nobody but you.”

I try to pull back to see his face, but he holds me close against him. He doesn’t say a word, and neither do I. Just the feel of his body against mine is enough.

It’s not until we hear the clearing of someone’s throat behind us do I even remember that we’re not alone.

“Think I could grab one of those?” Niko asks, motioning to the coffee cups that Dorian and I are holding hostage. With a sheepish smile, I shimmy out of Dorian’s arms and hand him one.

“How’s Morgan?” I ask, hoping to diffuse any rising tension between the brothers.

“She’s good. She remembers most of the details, so it’s easier to piece them all together. Alex thinks we can spell her to at least weaken her sight enough to provide a little peace.”

I grab a mug for myself and dribble a little flavored creamer in it. “And you think it’ll work?”

Niko shrugs. “It won’t be fool-proof, but it’ll keep her sane. We shouldn’t have a problem as long as one of us is near her.”

“So does that mean you’re staying?” I feel my eyes light up with hope and excitement. I don’t mean for them to, but I can’t stop myself. I just hope Dorian doesn’t see it too. I won’t bother to look up to find out, that’s for damn sure.

He shrugs again, staring into his cup. “For as long as it takes to ensure you’re safe.”

I let myself sneak a glance at Dorian, and as I suspected, his expression is as cold and hard as stone. His gaze slides over me, warming my body like slow-moving lava. I know that look; I live for that look. That look has both aroused and destroyed me more times than I can count.

I can’t respond to Niko’s comment. Hell, I can’t even remember it.

IT GOES WITHOUT saying that this birthday will forever go down in history as the most eventful and exhausting birthday ever.

By the time the sun sets and everyone is settled in for the evening, I feel like I may pass out from fatigue. But opening my bedroom door to find Dorian standing at my bay window, gazing out into the night, instantly makes every cell in my body hum with an indescribable sexual charge. He doesn’t turn around or say a word, because he doesn’t need to. He can feel my need just as I can feel his.

I kick off my jeans and t-shirt, and leave them in the middle of the room, knowing it’ll bug him. I laugh inwardly at my immaturity. Neat freak Dorian must be cringing right now.

“Very funny,” he mutters from the window. He takes a sip from the glass of amber liquid in his hand.

“Glad I could amuse you, Mr. Skotos.” I take a step towards my closet to grab a sleep tee, but decide against it. Instead I stride over to Dorian wearing only my bra and panties. He holds out the glass for me and I take a taste of the potent liquor, letting its warmth slide down my throat.

“Amuse? No. Arouse? Most definitely. But you already know that, don’t you?”

He takes the glass from my hands and sets it down on the nightstand before spinning me around so my ass is pressed into his groin and his hard chest molds to my back. I lean into him and let my eyes close, perfectly comfortable and secure in his arms. So much so, that I can’t even stifle the yawn that escapes when I open my mouth to reply.

“You’re exhausted.” Dorian winds his arms around my scantily clothed frame and buries his lips in my hair. “I should have been more careful with you.”

“I’m fine, honestly. Better now that I know everything will be ok. Niko and Alex are alternating between watching Morgan and checking the perimeter of the apartment building.”

“Still, you should have let me help you. You’re barely a day old and still have so much to learn. You could’ve pushed yourself too far.”

I turn around in his arms, pressing my breasts against his chest. “Barely a day old?” I ask with a questioning brow.

“To us, you are just now living. The magic becomes your life force; without it, you die.” He nuzzles his nose with mine and his lips graze my mouth, yet he doesn’t kiss me. “You gave so much of yourself today. Now, it’s my turn to give you me.”

Without warning, we’re on the bed, wisps of charcoal vapors swirling around our bodies. I’m flat on my back with Dorian hovering over me, watching, waiting for his influence to overtake my consciousness. While his body doesn’t touch mine, his mind—his beautiful-fucking-mind—begins to infiltrate every part of me. Sliding over the surface of my skin, so soft and light, like the silkiest feather. Pinching my sensitive nipples and raking down my belly. Igniting heat between my thighs until my panties are damp with desire.

I feel him all over me—teasing my pleasure points with his phantom touches. He moves in closer, so close that our lips nearly meet, yet he still won’t kiss me. He still won’t let me taste the sweet longing that is undoubtedly tempting his tongue. I lift my head to take it from him only to find that I am bound to the bed, completely under his control.

I’ve been here before. I’ve been under Dorian’s spell enough times to know how this will play out. He’s a man of dominating control, and today has been nothing short of chaos. He’s taking it back. He’s taking me back.

“Touch me,” I beg, my voice breathless with agony.

“No.” His eyes spark with white fire on that single word, showing the torment of his restraint.

“Please,” I whimper. “I need you to touch me. I need to feel you.”

“You feel me now,” he rasps.

“No. That’s not enough.”

“Oh? Not enough?” Pressure spikes in my core and I cry out as sensation snakes through my swollen sex. He doesn’t move, but I feel him there—touching, licking, even biting. Soft and hard, hot and wet, all at the same time.

“I can feel you throbbing, Gabriella. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” My voice is an intelligible squeak. It does hurt, yet it feels oh-so-incredibly good. Dorian’s pain is the most potent form of pleasure.

“I feel the hardness of your nipples—how they ache to be licked and sucked. You want me to do that, Gabriella? You want me cover your nipples with my mouth and run my tongue over them? You want me to squeeze them between my teeth right before I suck them, baby?”

“Yes, Dorian,” I manage through a sob.

“And when I’m done teasing your nipples, you want me to run my tongue down…” Another jolt of electricity stings my sensitive flesh. “…down…down…until it meets that soft, sweet place that hurts you so bad? You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

I try to nod through the haze of lust and agony, but I can’t move. I can only feel him owning my body in the most delicious way.

“Say it! Say you want me to suck you, lick you, taste you until you come on my tongue. And maybe, little girl—just maybe—I’ll let you do it.”

I open my mouth to scream or weep, only to find that he’s now bound my voice. This sick, sexy sonofabitch just wants to torture me.

As if he’s heard my thoughts, Dorian leaves me with a sadistic grin before he’s gone in a puff of grey smoke. Panic begins to set in until I feel the bed give beside me and Dorian’s scent washes over me once more.

“My sweet, sweet Gabriella,” he coos, raking his fingers through my hair. “Seeing as it is your birthday, I probably shouldn’t torture you too much. But you’re so open to me; I just can’t help myself. You may speak now.”

I open my mouth to find that the use of my vocal cords has been restored. “You’re sick. You are a sick, twisted fuck,” I spew, panting with immeasurable need.

“Ah. A sick, twisted fuck that you want inside you, I presume?” He appears in my line of vision, wearing that devilish smirk. I both want to slap it off his face and kiss it, all in the same breath.

“Yes.” There’s no point in lying. Even if he couldn’t feel my emotions, he could clearly see how soaked my panties are.

“Would that make you happy, Gabriella? Me inside you? Filling you? Fucking you?” He leans down further, so close that I can feel his cool breath fan across my face and taste the lust on his tongue. “Ruining you so thoroughly that merely the sound of my name would make you cry out in a fit of passion?”

“Yes. It would.” Frustrated tears run down my face. “It would make me happy. Please don’t leave me like this.”

Finally, he touches me, running a solitary finger from my collarbone down to the hollow between my breasts. “Oh, little girl. I would never leave you. Especially like this.”

With a deft flick of a finger, my bra and panties are ripped away from my body. Then in the next second, he’s standing at the foot of the bed, palms spread over my body as bright blue flames lick up his wrists.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I don’t hesitate to find his eyes, burning with white-hot passion. He’s shirtless, and the sight of smooth ripples on tanned skin makes my mouth water.

It only takes that second—that single moment that our gazes meet—before my legs are shaking uncontrollably and I’m moaning Dorian’s name. It’s so strong—so unbelievably strong—that I feel it may kill me. But he won’t stop. His hands keep hovering over my writhing body, coaxing my climax like a snake charmer. Pulling it from deep within me in waves so intense that my entire body elevates from the bed, and I’m suspended in the power of pleasure alone.

“Dorian,” I gasp. “Please. Now, please.”

I only have mere seconds to catch my breath as Dorian strips off his pants before my thighs are in his hands and he’s opening me, revealing the wetness that already soaks the sheets. Then he’s pushing inside me, not even pausing to let my body adjust to the size of his intrusion. His thrusts are so deep and urgent, I swear he’s trying to burrow inside me to disappear forever. And from this angle—with my body still levitating inches from the bed—he can feel all of me, just as I can feel all of him, destroying what’s left of my control from the inside out.

Realizing that my arms are no longer bound, I wrap one across his shoulders to fist his hair, pulling his head down to taste his lips. He wanted to deny me of his kiss—he wanted to keep me teetering on the precipice of insanity—but he bends to my will, fusing his mouth to mine.

With his skillful tongue still moving with mine, he growls, burying himself impossibly deeper inside me. I don’t even realize that he’s lifted me up onto his lap until my swollen nipples graze his bare chest, begging to be touched. One of his hands grips my waist as he manipulates my body up and down to meet his upward strokes. The other guides my pebbled bud to his mouth, and he begins to suck and lick and bite, just as he said he would.

Oh God…this. Just…this. I can’t even begin to put it into words. The feel of him buried to the hilt, his tongue stroking my nipples, the friction of my hypersensitive clit rubbing against his pubic bone… this will kill me for sure. I feel myself breaking, dissolving onto him…into him. Sharing every breath, moan and sigh as one panting, quivering entity.

“Do you feel it?” Dorian grits out between thrusts. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

I close my eyes and just focus on his words and the ripples of pleasure racing through me. “Yes.”

He growls, and I feel teeth sink into the skin of my neck. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to tell me he’s close. He’s trying to hold on a little longer—trying to stay on this wave of indescribable ecstasy—but it’s too good to pull back now. He needs more—harder, faster, deeper.

I can feel him swelling inside me, throbbing with his impending release. His growth presses against that hidden spot tucked away within my walls. That spot that instantly makes me weep whenever the swollen tip of him strokes it with perfect pressure—just like he’s doing right now.

Dorian holds me tight and buries his face in the crook of my neck as we fall apart together. His body so rigid, mine as pliant as Jell-O, we whine and groan until our voices grow hoarse with exhaustion. Then, ever-so-gently, he lays my body down on the bed, placing my head on the pillow and covering our naked, sweat-dampened bodies with the disheveled sheets.

“Now you know,” he whispers into the crown of my head. “Now you know what you do to me. And why I would kill anybody that tried to take that feeling away from me again. Before last night—before you came back to me after your ascension—I felt like a dying man. For months, while we were apart, I yearned for death. It would have been much kinder than living without you.”

Dorian softly angles my face so I can see the conviction in those smoldering eyes. “I know what true suffering is, Gabriella. And no degree of agony could ever surmount how it feels to not have you by my side.”

Most normal twenty-one year olds would shy away from such profound declarations of love, but Dorian’s words draw me in closer. I touch my lips to his, letting him taste the truth in my kiss.

“I know. I know because I felt it too. And I still feel that way about you, Dorian. I always have and always will, until the end of time. Until we perish into dust, whether that’s a week or an eternity from now.”

He smiles before kissing me again, his hand cradling my head gently. Such a contrast from the ferocity he showed me just moments ago. I love him like this. I love him rough and demanding too, but the softer side of Dorian—the vulnerable side that no one else gets to see—is what opened my heart to him. It was his secret sadness that kept me coming back to the hotel suite night after night. The sex, of course, is extraordinary, but knowing there was so much melancholy just beneath that steely exterior made me feel for him.

“Your birthday is almost over, and I haven’t even had a chance to give you your birthday present.” He lifts his palm and flexes his fingers as if he is holding an invisible sphere, and sure enough, a small, velvet box with a domed top appears in his hand.

“When you returned the necklace I gave you, you made it clear that you had no desire to wear it again. I wanted to respect your wishes, so I won’t ask you to do so.”

I touch my fingers to his cheek. “Dorian, I was hurt and upset then. Of course, I want it—”

“No, Gabriella. That necklace symbolized what you were then.” He pries open the black box, and I am momentarily blinded by more diamonds than I can even count. “This ring symbolizes what you are now, what you’ve always been and what I’ve dreamt of you being to me.”

I can’t speak.

I can’t even think.

Is this…Oh my God, is this really happening?

Is Dorian Skotos asking me to…

“This isn’t exactly what you think it is,” he says, taking the ring from the box, and successfully crushing my dreams into rubble. “As I told you, marriage means something very different for my kind, and you are not like us. I would never subject you to such cruelty. But I understand your need for a token. So here’s mine.”

“Gabriella, you are everything to me. You’re my forever. And this ring symbolizes the eternity I want to spend with you. And if you would do me the honor of wearing it, I promise to love and protect you until the end of time. Until we both perish into dust and fall away into the wind.”

Dorian takes my left hand and slips the glittering ring onto my finger—the finger reserved for my future husband. So while his promise is to never marry me and subject me to a life of darkness, he’s making it clear that no one else will have that opportunity either.

I don’t know whether to be flattered by his possessiveness or irate at his selfishness. But the moment I look down at my hand, seeing material proof of Dorian’s love for me, all doubt dissipates from my mind.

“Wow,” is all I can manage to say. It’s my necklace, but upgraded. Really upgraded. Black diamonds halo a dazzling, cushion-cut white diamond so incredibly big and bright, that I can’t look directly at it. The band is most likely platinum, since anything less would be very un-Dorian-like, and even that is studded with more sparkling diamonds.

It’s beautiful. And extravagant. And I know that even for him, it was ridiculously expensive.

“Dorian, it’s so…” I gulp at the sight of it sitting on my finger, unable to come up with anything remarkable to say. “It’s too much. I can’t accept something so beautiful.” I make a move to slide it off my finger, but he grasps my hands.

“Yes, you can. And you will.”

“But this must’ve cost you a fortune, Dorian. You don’t need to spend money for me to know that you love me.”

He turns to me so my naked breasts are pressed against the hard marble of his chest. An errant curl falls in my face, and he tenderly winds it around his finger before easing it behind my ear. “Money means nothing to me, Gabriella. I don’t need it. But what I do need is you.”

I look down at the ring adorning that sacred finger, wondering what my friends and family will think when they see it. Of course, they’ll instantly think it’s an engagement ring; hell, I thought the same thing. But how will they feel knowing I am choosing to commit my life to someone who will never, ever make me his wife? Even Alexander took issue with that fact, and he’s made it more than clear that he’s not Dorian’s biggest fan.

“You can choose something else if you don’t like it,” he says, his voice growing anxious at my unresponsiveness.

I shake my head. “No, it’s perfect. And if it means that much to you, it means even more to me. But please don’t do this because you think I need some false sense of security. You made your feelings very clear when it came to marriage, and I still chose to be with you. So if I feel some kinda way because you don’t want to marry me, it’s my problem—not yours.”

Wow. Even I’m a little surprised at my mature response. Who am I kidding? I’m pretty damn pleased with myself.

“Do you?” He touches my chin and tilts my head towards his. “Do you feel slighted in any way?”

I match the earnestness in those clear blue eyes. “Does it matter?”

We stare at each other in the dark, the silence concealing our true emotions in shadow. When it gets too hard to ignore the unanswered questions still lingering on our tongues, I let my eyes close and nestle my head against Dorian’s chest. Back to the safe place that makes me think of the beach in Skiathos, and making love under a star-filled sky as the waves crash at our feet.

This is all that matters. This moment right here. Everything else is just mortal inconsequence.

“DID I SAY you could get out of bed yet? Put your hands on the counter and spread your legs. Now.”

I freeze mid-step from the shower to find Dorian in the doorway of my bathroom, hair deliriously sexy from a night of raucous sex, and eyes still lazy with sleep. And if that wasn’t enough to make my knees buckle, he’s completely naked.

Naked. Dorian Skotos, the god of fuck-hot, is naked with bedhead.

“Don’t just stand there dumbfounded. You heard what I said.” He leans into the doorframe in an effortless pose that elongates his frame, accentuating every tanned ripple of muscle. My mouth waters with the urge to taste his skin, and I step forward reflexively. However, before I can advance any further, my front is pinned to the vanity. Dorian’s hands are locked on onto mine, holding me in place as he grinds his hardness against my ass. What is with him and bathrooms?

“Such a hard-headed girl. When will you learn?” His breath is cool and level, almost menacing. I feel myself getting wet from the sound of it alone.

“Maybe you should teach me,” I nearly moan.

“That sounds promising, but I’d need all day and possibly all night. And we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.” He slips his knee between my legs and parts them, just the way he requested. “Mmmm. I can already smell you. Yes, I would definitely need at least 24 hours to teach you properly.”

He flexes his hips, and I groan at the feel of him throbbing against me. “I’ll settle for the Cliff’s Notes for now.”

Dorian grips my wrists tighter as he bends his knees just enough to align himself with my slick sex. Then in the slowest, most torturous way, he enters me from behind, sliding in to the hilt—until every bit of me is devouring every bit of him.

He doesn’t move, giving my body a chance to acclimate to his size and savor the feel of him at this angle. Maybe he’s making up for his rough demeanor last night. Or maybe he just wants me so fucking insane for him that I’ll do anything to get him to move.

“Please,” I whimper, my eyes closed tight. “Please, Dorian.”

“Not yet. Not until you’re ready, baby.”

“I’m ready now!” I whine, squirming.

“Almost, but not quite, little girl.” His voice is so controlled, it infuriates me. How can he be so calm? Can’t he feel how ravenous I am for him?

I growl in frustration, yet the sound ends in a whine as I feel Dorian’s hand wrap around my neck with gentle pressure. His lips are on my ear, causing him to shift even deeper.

“Open your eyes.” It’s a whispered command, but my body complies immediately, completely spellbound. “Look at yourself. See how amazing you look with me inside you.”

I take it all in—the sight of Dorian’s body fused with mine. The feel of his hand tightening around my throat. The fiery lust smoldering in those pale blue eyes.

He hasn’t even moved yet and I feel like I could fall apart at any second.

Reading my mind, or maybe putting me out of my misery, he slides out to the tip, slowly…deliberately. So much control wrapped in my insanity. Then he pushes back in just as unhurriedly, making every part of me shake with need.

“Easy,” he rasps, stroking me steadily. “Just keep watching, baby. I’ve got you.”

He sexes me so thoroughly that I feel touched all over. This time is different. Last night was all frenzy and hunger. Right now—him filling me with slow, lazy thrusts as he watches me come undone through the mirror—is all about seduction and restraint.

My knees begin to shake and he cradles my neck tighter, elevating the intense pleasure. I feel like I’m going to faint. Or scream. Or cry. It feels so good that I may do all three.

Until he stops.

Dorian pulls out of me abruptly, causing me to yelp in surprise and displeasure. He grips my shoulders and bends his head downward, his focus on my back.

“Your tattoos,” he whispers, his expression darkening.

“What’s wrong?” I try to turn around, but his grasp is firm.

His fingers brush over the space between my shoulder blades where a lotus blossom is etched into my skin. “They’re…fading.”

“What?” I hurriedly look at the ones on my arms, my shoulder…the little blue anchor on my hand.

It’s just like he said. They’re fading. All of them. Even the one that means the most to me. The one that ties me to Dorian.

“What’s going on?” I can’t even keep the panic out of my voice. “How could that even be possible?”

Dorian grimaces before spinning me around to face him. He takes my hand and runs his thumb over the anchor mark he gave me in an act of love and commitment. It’s now a grey-blue, so much lighter than the one he also wears.

“It seems as if your body is healing itself. It’s purging the ink from your skin. Even mine.”

“So what does that mean?” Could this mean that I’m no longer marked by Dorian? That I am no longer his?

He drops my hand like it’s on fire, like he can’t bear to touch me. He won’t even look at me. “I don’t know.”

“Are there any others? Something…new?” He told me about the mark of the Dark, and the ancient prophecy that I could bear the ultimate symbol of corruption—the mark of the beast—upon ascension. I hadn’t seen or felt anything, but I also hadn’t realized that my tattoos were fading either.

“No. Get dressed. We need to speak with the others.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me cold and a little sore. I wash up with trembling hands and tie my hair back into a simple ponytail. When I exit the bathroom to get dressed, I find that he’s not in my room. I’m not surprised; I’ve grown used to Dorian’s disappearing acts. Still, I can’t understand his indifference.

I step out into the living room where everyone is seated, Dorian included. They each look at me expectedly, yet no one says a word. What the hell? Why do I feel like I’ve been banished to the principal’s office and they’re waiting on me to confess my crimes.

“Sit down, Gabriella,” Dorian says, his voice still so cold and distant. “Please.”

There’s a space beside him on the loveseat, but I slide onto the arm of the armchair where Morgan is seated instead. Dorian exhales slowly, releasing his frustration, yet doesn’t say a word.

“Anyone wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” I ask, tired of the awkward silence. No one makes a move to explain except for Alexander, who appears fresh and rested, despite being up all night watching my suicidal roommate.

“We think we know what may have triggered Morgan’s hallucinations last night.”

“Okay…?” His elusiveness is frustrating, and I have half a mind to tell him to cut the crap and spit it out. But, you just don’t talk like that to your formerly dead dad who happens to be a ruthless, supernatural assassin, do you?

“Gabriella, it’s you.”

“Me?” I look down at Morgan, but she diverts her gaze to an imaginary thread on her sweatshirt. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she isn’t wearing an ounce of makeup. There are bags under her eyes, but no sign of further self-inflicted harm. And for that, I’m thankful. Even if she can’t bear to look at me.

I stifle the dull ache of her rejection and turn back to Alexander. “How did I cause Morgan to act out like that?”

“Your ascension…it generated some type of surge of supernatural energy,” Niko adds. “Whatever was lying dormant inside Morgan was pushed to the surface when you ascended on your birthday, amplifying her sight. And there’s a good chance that there are others—humans with just a touch of magic—that now have enhanced abilities as well.”

“Could that explain that guy from yesterday? From the hotel?”

He shakes his head and purses his lips, clearly still pissed about nearly being poisoned. “No. He was a Nobody. A pawn. And whoever sent him is a dead man.”

“Gabriella,” Dorian says just above a whisper, yet I hear him loud and clear. My name is velvet on his lips and my body instantly reacts to the sound of his voice. I turn to him, my aggravation already a distant memory. “If your ascension has influenced others, that means they are susceptible to Dark—or even Light—influence. It may not be safe for you here anymore.”

“Safe for me?” I bark out a sardonic laugh, causing Morgan to flinch and scramble to the opposite arm of her seat. “When has it ever been safe for me? This is my home, Dorian. No one is going to force me to leave. Especially now.”

“Listen to him, Gabriella,” Alexander says, his voice gently commanding. “Just because you have your abilities, that doesn’t mean you’re invincible. If anything, you’re more vulnerable than ever. You’re the Dark Light; you’re more unique than anything this world has ever seen. And there will be enemies from both sides that will want to harness your power.”

Before I can even roll my eyes, Dorian is before me, grasping my hands and pulling me into his arms. He looks down at the little, faded blue anchor on my hand, and runs is thumb over it, willing it to stay. “You can’t fight them all, baby. I know you think you can, but I won’t let you bargain with your life. Losing you is not an option, little girl. Not when loving you is the only thing I have to live for.”

I look up into Dorian’s eyes and see eternity in those boundless, blue depths. I can’t resist him when he’s like this—so vulnerable and open to me. Its occurrence is such a novelty that I’m tempted to freeze time and everyone around us, just to stay with him like this forever.

“Ok,” I whisper hoarsely. I clear my throat and try again. “Ok. What do you suggest we do?”

“I have a house,” Niko chimes in from the couch behind us. “In Louisiana, just outside New Orleans.”

Reluctantly, I unravel myself from Dorian’s arms to give his younger brother my attention. “And you think we’ll be safe there?”

“Safer than anywhere else. Very few people know it even exists. And those who do…are dead.”

I don’t miss the momentary flash of pain on his face before he shrugs and turns away. I just chalk it up to the appeal of Nikolai Skotos—that raw emotion that makes him seem almost…human. From the start, we shared a common agony, and I understood his need to cope with over-indulgence and vulgarity. It mirrored my own escape tactics.

“And what am I supposed to do about my friends? My family? What am I supposed to tell Chris and Donna?”

“They’ll understand,” Dorian reassures.

“And whoever doesn’t, we’ll make them,” Niko adds with a wink.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE what I just agreed to.”

Dorian and I are heading North on Academy Blvd. toward Chris and Donna’s house. Morgan opted to ride with Niko and Alexander in the Range Rover, so Dorian was left to drive her ostentatious, candy-red Mustang. He looks out of place in the brightly colored car—too polished and refined. I never really noticed how gaudy Morgan’s ride was until it was graced with Dorian’s beauty.

“Agreed to what?” He peers over at me through the corner of his black shades and the edge of his mouth twitches.

“You know what. Letting you guys take me away from my home…my job...my life. To agree to run. I’ve never run from a fight before, Dorian. I don’t see why I should start now.”

He shakes his head and purses his lips, as if he’s trying not to tell me something. As if he’s keeping another secret from me. I know I could make him tell me, but I don’t want to. I want him to want to be honest with me. I’m owed at least that much.

“There’s more, isn’t there? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Gabriella…”

“Spit it out, Dorian. If you want me to go along with your plan, I need full disclosure. You promised—no more secrets.”

He shakes his head, but I can see his defenses crumbling. He can’t lie to me. He wants to, but his curse won’t let him.

“There’s a bounty out—my brother, your father and myself. Stavros wants the three of us, and he’s willing to drain his resources in order to make that happen.”

“A bounty? So he sent people after you?” I can’t even hide the terror in my voice.

“Not people, Gabriella. Assassins. Warlocks who know how to kill a million different ways. Like your father. And like me.”

“Oh my God, Dorian. Why didn’t you tell me this before? We have to do something!”

“There’s nothing we can do, Gabriella! I just have to get you to safety.”

“Me? Why me? For fuck’s sake, why is everyone so damn worried about me?”

Dorian’s hands tense around the steering wheel until I can see the white of his knuckles. Shit. There’s more. I should have known there would be more.

“There’s a stipulation,” he mutters through clenched teeth. “You, in exchange for the three of us. We live if you agree to go to him.”

I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “And…don’t you think we should consider that option?”

“Fuck no,” Dorian spits, causing me to flinch at the harshness of his tone. “That’s not a fucking option, Gabriella. And if you even think that could be a possibility, get it out of your head now, because it’s not happening.”

We ride the rest of the way to Briargate in silence, without even the sound of the radio to replace the friction in the small space. When Dorian turns on my street, he cuts the engine a few houses down. He doesn’t have to—he’s been able to penetrate the wards for several months now. Niko pulls up right behind him, yet they all wait on our signal to make a move.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?” His voice is back to being controlled and as smooth as silk, but he doesn’t look at me.

“No.”

“It was Valentine’s Day. You were at a restaurant with your friends. That boy was there…Jared. I saw that you cared for him. And for some reason, that made me angry. I could have killed you that night—I had planned to—but once I saw you, and the affection you had for him, I decided to wait. To watch you. To learn you. To find out why someone like you could love someone like him. Someone so human and weak and ordinary.”

Finally, Dorian turns to me and removes his dark sunglasses, letting me see him—the real him. “I still wonder that today. How could someone like you possibly love someone like me? With all that you are, and all that I’ve put you through, how could you give yourself to me, time and time again? I’m not worthy of you, Gabriella; I know that. So remember that before you try to do anything stupid. I’m not worth it.”

Before I can respond, he’s out of the car and opening my door. The others join us moments later but keep their distance. No one questions the look of sheer dread on my face, and I deduce that they already know. They know it’s either them or me. We can’t hide forever, and even if we could, what kind of life would that be? How could I banish my friends and family to an eternity in the shadows?

I knock on the door and wait anxiously, preparing myself for the chaos that will undoubtedly come next. What will they think about my appearance? My decision? Hell, what will they think about Alexander?

I hear footsteps approach, and an odd, almost floral essence from the other side of the door. It isn’t perfume or those essential oils that Donna likes to wear. It’s her magic. It’s faint, yet I can feel it wafting over me, filling my lungs, tempting my tongue. Instinctually, I take a step forward, eager to taste more, but Dorian stops me with a hand on my chest, feeling my curiosity as if it were his own.

“You need to remember what you are now,” he whispers. “We’re drawn to magic. It’s in our nature to want to harness it. You have to control those urges. If not, you could mistakenly kill Donna.”

I nod and stand up as straight as possible, pressing my fists to my sides. Shame paints my cheeks. I could kill Donna? I could hurt the only mother I’ve ever known?

Donna opens the door with a bright, welcoming smile on her face, taunting the demon inside me. But as soon as she takes in the scene before her, her expression goes from shock to fear to utterly elated.

“Thank goodness!” she shrieks, taking me into her arms without a hint of reluctance. “Oh, my sweet girl. We were so worried about you. I’m so thankful to have you back!”

She pulls away to get a better look at me and gasps at the sight of my dual-colored eyes. Physical proof of my transformation. “I’m so proud of you,” she sobs. “Look at you. So strong and beautiful. I just wish your parents could have seen the wonderful young woman you’ve grown into.”

“Lucky for me, I have,” Alexander says, stepping into view and coming to stand beside me. “I just wish Natalia would have had the same pleasure.”

“Alex?” Donna covers her mouth in disbelief, tears welling in her big blue eyes. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it’s you! You’re alive!”

“I am,” he says with a tip of his head. “It’s good to see you again, Donna.”

“But how? When?”

“Mom,” I say, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we go inside, and we can explain everything?”

“Yes, of course,” Donna nods, ushering us in. Her glance stops at Niko as he passes, and he extends his hand.

“So lovely to meet you, Mrs. Winters. I’m Nikolai Skotos. Thank you for having me in your home.” When Donna places her hand in his, he gently slides his other over her knuckles, drawing her closer to him. “I have to say, you’re far too young and beautiful to have a grown daughter.”

Dazzled by his charm and roguish good looks, Donna blushes and mutters something unintelligible before Niko brushes past her, leaving her to linger in his influence. I shoot him a knowing look and shake my head, prompting him to wink at me with a wicked grin. Of course, our playfulness doesn’t go unnoticed by Dorian, who tightens his grip around my waist before leading me to the family room. It’s completely ridiculous for him to harbor an inkling of jealousy, but I can’t help but feel a surge of happiness from it. For so long, I felt inadequate. Like a little girl in love with some unattainable god. And now, for once, Dorian is getting just a taste of what it was like to see him interact with that she-bitch, Aurora. He’ll never understand what it was like to lose him to her. He’ll never ever be able to fathom that magnitude of agony. But maybe this—this unfounded, imaginary thing he sees between Niko and me—will give him just a glimpse of the pure hell I was in for the past six months. I know it’s childish of me to want that, but I can’t help it.

We settle in on the loveseat while the others take the couch. Donna scurries off to the kitchen for refreshments just as Chris emerges from his study.

“Dad!” I exclaim before I can stop myself. Shit. I don’t dare to look over at Alexander. I can’t even imagine what he must feel at hearing that word used to describe someone else.

Chris doesn’t even seem to notice the motley crew sitting in his family room. He makes a beeline straight to me, pulling me into his arms for a bear hug as if I am five years old again. I can literally feel the tension draining from his body, allowing a rush of relief to wash over him. When he pulls away, there are tears in his eyes, but not from fear or confusion at my appearance. Of pure, undiluted joy.

“I always knew you were special, kiddo,” he rasps, his voice raw from an unshed sob. He cups my face, brushing away the moisture on my cheeks with his thumbs. “I always knew you’d make the right choice. You make me so proud, and so honored to call you my daughter. And no matter what happens, that’s what you’ll always be.”

When he takes a step back from me, I reflexively look over at Alexander, whose blank gaze is fixed on the floor. I feel bad, but I can’t deny the only father I’ve ever known. I can’t shun the man who loved and raised me just because Alexander has suddenly reappeared. I know he would’ve been there if he could, but he wasn’t. And Chris and Donna were left to fill that void when I was orphaned at infancy. They took on the impossible task of raising a child that was broken and foreign to them in every way, and they succeeded. They loved a little monster like it was their own flesh and blood.

Before Chris makes his way to his favorite recliner, he acknowledges Dorian beside me, giving him a stiff nod. “Dorian. Thank you. Thank you for protecting my daughter.”

I know it’s difficult for him—allowing himself to feel anything but disdain for Dorian. But he’s trying to see the good in him again. The good he saw over two decades ago when a ruthless assassin chose love and friendship over duty and tradition.

Chris steps forward and offers an outstretched palm, extending an olive branch. Dorian regards it for just a moment before standing to his feet and joining his hand with his.

“It was, and is, my greatest honor. And I plan to continue to love and protect her, for as long as she’ll have me.”

Chris nods once more, accepting Dorian’s proclamation as truth. Before he makes his way to his favorite, worn recliner, his eyes sweep over to the couch, widening with shock. Blood instantly drains from his face, leaving it pale and distorted in disbelief.

“Alex? Alex, is that you?” he stutters, swallowing several times. His gaze goes to me, to Dorian and then toward the kitchen where Donna is still preparing snacks.

Alexander lifts his head slowly, deliberately prolonging the inevitable. He knew what he was doing by coming here. He had to have expected that Chris had filled the space that was left behind by his supposed execution. So it doesn’t make sense that his unblinking, pale blue eyes are sparked with riotous fury as he stares back at my adopted father, a tight, almost mocking smile on his lips.

“Alex? Oh my God, it really is you. How did you…? Where have you been?”

Alexander doesn’t speak. He just keeps staring, those startling blue eyes growing paler and paler, as decades of pain and regret come boiling to the surface.

I can feel Dorian tensing beside me, his own instincts telling him that trouble is brewing. He shifts in a quick movement, pushing me back to shield my body with his own. He locks eyes with Niko for just a flash of a second, causing his brother to slide to the edge of his seat, on guard and prepared to subdue Alexander if need be. Or at least attempt to.

All this is happening within the span of one human breath. One mortal heartbeat. Leaving Chris oblivious to the single, thin thread that his life is dangling from.

And me? I’m just sitting there, wondering how the hell I got here. And what the hell I plan to do to stop it. I mean, I could stop it. I should stop it. Alexander’s anger is unfounded. He has no right to feel anything but gratitude towards my adoptive parents. They took me in and loved me when there was nobody left to fill that role. And yeah, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but I think they’ve done a pretty damn good job.

“Here we go!” Donna trills, holding a tray of lemonade and cookies. I watch as the palpable friction in the room slowly recoils like a retreating viper, conceding yet still deadly.

Blissfully unaware of the danger that lurks within this humble family room, Donna sets the tray down and begins to distribute glasses of lemonade, starting with Niko. He graciously accepts, yet keeps his eyes trained on Alexander who sits just a few feet away on Morgan’s right. He could push her out of the way and detain the Warlock before she even knew what happened.

When Donna offers Alexander a glass, he politely thanks her and diverts his venomous gaze back to the floor, making the rest of us release a tiny sigh of relief.

She hands me a glass, and when I reach my hand out to receive it, Donna grasps my hand and flips it around. “Oh my goodness! Is this what I think it is?” Her excited eyes dance between Dorian and me, waiting for the big announcement. I pull my hand back and put it behind my back.

“No, no,” I insist, shaking my head as embarrassment warms my face. “It’s not like that. Just a birthday gift.”

“Oh,” she smiles tightly, despite her obvious disappointment. “Well, it’s gorgeous, dear.”

Hoping to salvage the mood, Donna turns to Alexander. “I just still can’t believe it. Alex is alive!” She props herself on the arm of Chris’s recliner, and he reflexively places his hand on her knee in an act of possession and protection. Maybe he can sense the change in the atmosphere. Or maybe he just doesn’t fully trust the band of supernatural killers sitting before him.

Donna, none the wiser, prattles on in excitement. “What a wonderful surprise. We thought for sure you were captured by the Dark. How did you escape? Tell us everything!”

Alexander lifts his chin, just enough that his slow-burning gaze creeps up to Chris. “Why don’t you ask your husband that question?”

The fuck?

I open my mouth to ask him to clarify, but the words are caught in my throat as an inexplicable wave of nausea overcomes me. I grasp Dorian’s thigh, suddenly feeling dizzy, and he instantly draws me close to support my sagging body.

“What is it?” he asks, placing a cool hand on my suddenly flushed face.

“I just started feeling woozy. I’m fine, it’ll pass.” I try to sit up, but he refuses to let me go.

“You’ve given so much of yourself to Morgan. You’ve overexerted your powers. You need to rest.”

Donna scurries over, concern dimpling her forehead. “Gabi, sweetie, are you ok? Does she need to lie down?”

Dorian turns to her, mirroring her worry. The others draw in closer as well, ready to help in any way. “Gabriella had to heal Morgan last night, and it must’ve taken more out of her than we initially thought. She needs to replenish.”

I cringe, knowing exactly what that would entail. Obviously, that act would not be appropriate in front of my parents, immortal or otherwise.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just a little queasy.”

“Maybe some peppermint tea will do her some good,” Donna says turning toward the kitchen. I try to tell her to wait—to just wait until the sensation passes—when the doorbell rings, sending debilitating wave of nausea to rip through me.

“I’ll get it!” she announces, taking a detour to the front door. In the few seconds it takes for her to turn the doorknob, the nausea is replaced with a niggling feeling of doubt. Of danger. Just like I felt a year ago whenever the Dark was near.

“Wait!” I shout, my hand reaching out to stop her from across the room.

Donna opens the door, revealing a boy, no older than eighteen, dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt. A black, leather bound bible is tucked under his arm, along with a few pamphlets. The boy smiles brightly at Donna before extending his hand in greeting.

“No! Close the door, Donna!” I shout, eliciting varied looks of confusion from everyone, Dorian included. I use my strength to break free from his arms, bounding over the coffee table, towards the door…

But it’s too late.

Too late to stop her.

Too late to save her.

IT ALL HAPPENS so fast. Much too fast for any human boy.

Impossibly quick, he reveals a dagger and plunges it straight into Donna’s abdomen. The way he smiles as the blade slices into her flesh, I almost think I am imagining it. But I can’t deny the wet sound of hot steel tearing into soft, pliant skin and tissue. I can smell it burning into her body, killing vital organs on its journey through Donna’s belly. Yet I still don’t believe it. Not until she slowly turns to us, the dagger protruding from her fragile frame in a sea of deep red. She opens her mouth to speak, yet only blood gurgles up from her throat, spurting out of her mouth. Then she drops to floor, choking on her last breaths.

“No!” I scream, arms outstretched, covered in a fiery auburn haze. Electric fire bursts from my fingertips, surging to the murderous human boy until I can no longer see that sinister smile. Until the skin melts from his bones before being incinerated into a pile of ash.

“Mom!” I cry, falling to my knees to cradle her limp body in my arms. “No, no, no! Please!”

Chris is screaming, sobbing hysterically, praying desperately for a miracle. He drops to his knees in front of us. “No! Please don’t leave me. Please just stay with me, baby. Stay with me.”

I feel Dorian beside me, checking her vitals. He looks up at me with grave, hopeless eyes, but I refuse to see them. I refuse to believe this has happened.

“No! I can save her! I can bring her back!”

My blood-stained hands are already shrouded in an auburn haze when I lift them over the wound. Her pupils are unfocused—empty—but I still try to align our gazes. Dorian holds her head up to meet mine, but there’s no connection. I can’t feel her mind. I can’t sense her soul.

“Come on,” I grit, refocusing every bit of my power to my hands. “We have to pull out the blade. Hurry!”

I don’t even realize that Niko is on my other side until he reaches over to grab the dagger. It sizzles when his skin meets the handle, and I instantly smell burnt flesh.

“Ack!” He draws his hand back, only to shake it off to try again, gaining the same results. “It’s cursed! I can’t fucking touch it!”

Dorian carefully places Donna’s limp head in my hands before reaching over to try to uproot the blade. “Fuck!” he barks, pulling his hand back.

“What is it? What can we do?” We’re losing precious seconds. I can feel Donna’s life waning. I can’t even sense her presence anymore.

“Let me.” Alexander kneels down as Morgan pulls Chris away to give us room to work. He reaches over, wrapping his hand around the handle of the dagger and slides it from her body. I don’t even have time to wonder why he was able to do it. I immediately focus my energy to my fingertips, willing my life to sustain hers. Hoping I can save her as I did Morgan. Praying for a miracle.

Gray flakes of dead human flesh blow away into the wind, some attaching to the sticky blood still spilling out of Donna’s abdomen. My stomach roils but I swallow down the heave in my throat. I have to concentrate harder. I have to give her more of me.

“Gabriella,” I hear Dorian say beside me. He places a hand on my forearm, but I nudge it away.

“I just have to try harder. I have to keep trying.” The auburn haze is extended around Donna’s entire body now. “Please, Mom! Please don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I need you. Please!”

“Baby, it’s too late. You did everything you could. You have to stop now.”

“No! I won’t stop trying! This will work!”

“Baby girl, listen to him,” Niko says gently. “You can’t save her. You’re killing yourself.”

“I don’t care!” I push my power more, ignoring the fatigue attacking my body. I’m dizzy, but I don’t care. I just need to hang on a little while longer.

“You’re fading, baby. Please. You have to stop,” Dorian urges.

When he places his hands over mine, pulling them away from the gaping wound, I can’t stop him. All I can do is cry, my agonized tears raining down on Donna’s face until there’s not an ounce of feeling left in me. Until I am so numb with grief that I can’t cry anymore. I know he’s right; I knew deep down that it was too late for my mom. All the magic in the world couldn’t bring her back to us.

I feel hands on me, sending surges of comfort and serenity, but the pain is too deep. It’s crushing me, stripping me bit by bit until I’m raw with sorrow. I don’t want to be consoled. I want to feel this pain; I have to remember it. I want it to fuel my rage when I come face to face with the bastard responsible for taking away the only mother I’ve ever known.

I shake my head. “No. Not me. Chris. He needs it more than me.” I hear my adopted dad howling his anguish as if he had been the one to fall upon that blade. Right now, I know he would do anything to take Donna’s place.

Niko goes to him while Morgan comes to slide in his place. “I’m so sorry, Gabs,” she whispers. “But it’s ok. She’s ok, Gabs.”

“Ok? Ok!” I sob. “She isn’t ok, Morgan! She’s gone! She’s…she’s…” I can’t say it. I can’t say the word. She’s dead. The woman who loved and cared for me as her own from the moment I was placed in her arms is dead.

“But she’s ok. She’s at peace. And she’s here. With us, right now.”

Teary eyes wide, Morgan points to an empty space just feet away from where we sit. “She’s here, Gabs. And she said to tell you it’s ok. It’s ok to let her go.”

The room goes eerily silent and still as a blanket of peace wraps around us. I can’t see Donna’s spirit, but I can feel it. I can feel her love and warmth enveloping this very room. Even in death, it’s her gentle strength that comforts me.

I drown in my tears once more, holding Donna’s still, lifeless body in my arms. Twenty-one years ago, I lost the mother that gave me life. Now I’ve lost the mother that gave me love.

I SIT ON the loveseat, the very same place I sat just hours before as Donna served us all lemonade and cookies. Someone draped a blanket over my shoulders, but I’m still shivering. I can’t seem to stop. Morgan brings me a cup of hot tea, and I take it with trembling hands, thinking of all the times Donna made me tea with her special herbs. She wanted to protect me. She knew it was an impossible feat, but she did it anyway.

“How do you feel?” she whispers beside me.

“Numb,” I answer, my voice hoarse from screaming and crying. “But it hurts. It hurts everywhere.” I pull the blanket tighter around me. Luckily, I still had some clothing in my old bedroom, and when Dorian could finally pry me off of the floor, he got me out of my blood-soaked clothes. I was grateful; I couldn’t stand the smell of death on me for one more second.

I look up at my best friend, who looks shaken down to her core. “How about you? I know that must’ve been rough for you to see.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know what to feel—what to believe—anymore.”

We’re silent for a long stretch as we both sip tea and stare down at the floor, not sure what to say or do to bring each other comfort.

“You saw her,” I whisper, unable to hold it in for a moment longer.

“Yes.”

“And she…she was gone? You’re sure you saw her?” I know the answer, but if there is one tiny shred of hope…if there is some way to bring her back…

“I’m sure, Gabs,” she says, dispelling my false hope. “I’m sorry—you know I am. I wish it was different. But she’s ok. She’s at peace. She’s just worried for you.”

She should be, a little voice inside my head says.

Dorian and Niko come from the back room, their faces weary and solemn. I’m weak, but I push myself off the couch, ignoring the fatigue stiffening my joints.

“How is he?” I ask, pushing out what little voice I have left.

“He’s resting,” Dorian answers. He passes a glance to Niko then looks back to me. “He resisted, but we were able to subdue him.”

When Alexander mentioned disposing Donna’s body, Chris went ballistic. He refused to let the other men touch her and insisted on placing her corpse on their bed until he was ready to say goodbye. But as hard as it was to admit it, I knew we had to act fast. The police couldn’t know about this, and it was a possibility that the neighbors heard the commotion. We had to let her go if we wanted to keep this under wraps. They could use magic to clean up the blood, but Alexander needed to transport her body elsewhere to incinerate it.

Dorian leads me back to the couch and pulls me into his lap, cradling me in his arms. He smells so good, his scent soothing and euphoric. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck and before I can stop myself, I breathe deeply, letting his essence fill my lungs.

“Sorry,” I whisper, burying my face in the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t be, baby,” he coos, running a hand over my hair. “You needed it. I’ll take care of you later. But right now…right now I think we need to talk about something.”

I sit up and look at him, his expression pensive. “What is it?”

“We think,” he begins, nodding toward Niko sitting across from us, “that we can help Chris heal from this. From…all of this.”

“I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

“He’s in a great deal of pain, Gabriella. Pain that may never go away, even with time. We can help him forget…everything.”

Everything?

“Go on.”

“We can do a reversal spell. It will take away his pain, and he can go on with his life. He can be happy again.”

“Wait, hold up,” I say, raising a palm. “What do you mean? You want to reverse time?”

Dorian shakes his head. “No. His memories. In the span of a day, he has lost his daughter and his wife. His sole purpose was to protect you both. Now he has nothing. Men like Chris don’t just get over their hurt easily. It consumes them. I should know—I felt that same magnitude of agony when I thought I had lost you.”

“But what memories do you want to reverse?”

Dorian glances at Niko and his younger brother nods before fixing his eyes on me. “All the ones including Donna. And you.”

“What do you mean, all the ones—?”

“He’ll have no memory of either of you. It will be as if he has lived his life without having a wife and child. Everything will be intact—his career, his friends, his hobbies—but he’ll have no recollection of you or Donna. We can transfer him to another state, give him a fresh start. He can find love again. He can have another shot at life.”

“You want him to forget us? To forget the love of his life? That’s insane! Absolutely not!”

Dorian gently turns my head to face him, and I see how much it pains him to even mention this to me. “Gabriella, it is selfish to keep him hurting like this. He’s hopeless, baby. I felt it. He feels as if he has nothing else to live for. That’s no kind of life. It’s unfair to leave him in despair when there will be no one left to pull him out of it.”

Tears slide down my cheeks now. I don’t even understand how I have any left to cry. “But he has me! I can help him! I can be here for him!”

“No, you can’t, baby girl,” Niko interjects. “It’s not safe for him to be here, or anywhere near you for that matter. How long do you think it will take before another one is sent to kill? Chris will be a sitting duck.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t find a logical rebuttal. They’re right. As much as it hurts, I know that what they’re saying is true.

I have to let him go. If I truly love him, I have to give him another shot at a regular life.

Just as I ingest the finality of my decision, Alexander walks through the door, his eyes desolate. Suddenly, it all comes back to me…his earlier conversation with Donna. That twist of suspicion in my gut…

“We thought for sure you were captured by the Dark. How did you escape?”

“Why don’t you ask your husband that question?”

I’m in his face before he can even shut the front door, my fatigue forgotten.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I jab an accusing finger in his chest. “Tell me what you know. Now!”

“Gabriella…I don’t understand where this—”

“Ever since you showed up, people are dying! Things are happening that we can’t explain. Be honest; do you have something to do with the humans trying to kill us?”

Alexander takes a step back, betrayal and hurt on his handsome face. “No. Of course not.”

“Then how do you explain all this? What do you know about the knife that boy had? How were you able to touch it when both Dorian and Niko couldn’t?”

Alexander pulls the knife from behind him before going to the living room to hold it up for the rest of the group to see. “This is a Polemos dagger, The Edge of War. There were very few created, and only a Polemos can wield it. A wound from this blade is almost always fatal, for mortals and immortals alike.”

“Do you know who it belongs to?” I believe him, but he’s still not off the hook.

“No. It is only held by dignitaries and decorated warriors. But it’s evident that a Polemos transferred their power to that human boy. That’s the only way he could have manipulated it. And it explained his ability to elude us all with his stealth.”

“Polemos,” Dorian mutters. “The boy earlier was influenced by the house of Thanatos.”

“So you think the eight families are coming for us and sending humans to do their dirty work?” Niko asks, stroking the thin layer of scruff on his chin. “Fucking cowards if you ask me.”

I take my place on the couch beside Dorian, placing my hand in his. “But if that’s true, why were those humans getting tattoos several months ago? They couldn’t have known that you would double-cross them. And what if there are hundreds—shit, thousands—representing each house?”

I look over at Morgan, who looks like she may pass out at any moment. I can feel her discontent. She’s afraid, confused and exhausted. The last twenty-four hours have utterly shattered her.

“Morg, why don’t you go lie down in my room? I think we should stay here tonight. I don’t want to leave Chris alone.”

I feel Dorian tense beside me, and Niko shakes his head. “Not happening, baby girl. They could send more. Go back to the apartment complex. Dorian can tighten the ward there, but we can’t alter the one already in place here. It isn’t our magic. You and Morgan head back home, and I’ll stay here with Chris. It’ll give me a chance to…handle…our situation.”

Now? They want to do this now?

“But…I’m not ready.” I shake my head, my eyes clouded with fresh tears. “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

Dorian pulls me close, resting his chin on my head. I feel his lips in my hair. “It’s easier this way, baby. He’s subdued now. If we wait and let him wake up, he’ll only be plagued with more pain. You don’t want him to face that again.”

I release a shaky breath and dash away the moisture on my cheeks. “You’re right. I hate to admit it, but you’re right.” I turn to Alexander, regarding him with a pinched expression. “I just have to know one thing first—what did you mean? When you told…Donna…to ask Chris about your escape? How would he know anything about that?”

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “He wouldn’t know about my escape. But he knew about my capture. Including your mother’s.”

My mother?

“It was Chris who tipped off the Light when they went looking for her. He had been questioned and, of course, they used his love for Donna against him. I’d imagine he did it to protect her, but I can’t help but feel that he is responsible for Natalia’s execution.”

I take a beat to digest his words, pushing suspicion from my mind. I’m about to say goodbye to Chris forever. I don’t want anything tainting my view of him right now.

“I’m going to see Chris,” I tell him. “But we’ll talk about this later.”

Before I make my way towards the back of the house, Niko tugs at my arm. “Don’t worry, Gabs. When he wakes up, he’ll be ok. He’ll get a job transfer out of the state and will be on his way to some place safe by the end of the week. He’ll get another shot at happiness. He won’t even remember you or Donna.”

I nod, yet a grimace rests on my lips. Chris won’t even remember us—his wife and child. And even though I know it’s necessary, it hurts me to my core.

I enter the dark bedroom that he once shared with his wife. They were married for over twenty years; it would probably kill him to wake up without her beside him. Chris sleeps peacefully on his back, quietly snoring in his magic-induced slumber. There’s still a bit of dried blood on his face, and I reach over to scrape the red flakes with my fingernail, letting my touch linger against his stubbled jaw.

“Hey Dad,” I whisper, settling beside him on the bed. “I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I just want to say…thank you. Thank you for being the best dad you could be to me, despite all the trouble I’ve caused. I know it couldn’t have been easy to care for a child that wasn’t biologically yours, but I never felt that. I never felt like I didn’t belong. I always felt like yours.”

A hard knot forms in my throat, and I take a moment to breathe through it before it invokes a sob. I’ve cried enough today. I don’t want our last goodbye to be filled with more sorrow.

“I didn’t want this for us. If I could, I would protect you from all the evils of this world. But what kind of life would that be? Always running and hiding? You deserve more than that. You deserve another shot at life. At love. A chance to have a real family with children of your own.” My voice breaks on those last words, and a rogue tear escapes.

“Dad, you were so good to me and Mom. Now, I want you to be good to someone else. Someone that will love and care and protect you like you’ve done for us. It’s time for you to be another little girl’s first love. It’s time for you to teach her what she should expect and demand from her future boyfriends. It’s time for you to be an example of the ideal husband and father.”

More tears come, but I don’t wipe them away. I let them fall freely as I say goodbye to man I had the privilege of calling Dad.

“You did good. And for that, I will always be grateful. Please don’t think I’m giving up on you—on us. On our family. Because I’m not. I’m giving you a second chance.” I take his still hand in mine and press it to the space that holds my breaking heart. “Goodbye, Daddy. I’ll always love you. In life and in death.”

I DON’T REMEMBER the ride back to Paralia. I hardly even registered when Dorian led me to my bathroom and began to strip off my clothes. Even after he had filled the garden tub with warm, sudsy water and lifted my body into it, I think I barely flinched. The pain, the grief…I had felt too much until I couldn’t feel at all. I wasn’t in mourning—I became mourning. I became despair at its most severe degree. I knew Dorian was there—I could feel those pity-filled eyes on me, yet I didn’t have it in me to acknowledge him. I was empty of words and thoughts and feeling.

Something happened to me the moment I felt Donna’s life slip away. It’s like she took a part of me with her. Bits and pieces of a broken heart…shattered fragments of a simple, human girl—something in me went missing. And when I said goodbye to Chris, more of me blew away, like those scattered ashes in the wind. The chasm in my soul was becoming so deep and vast, that I couldn’t fathom ever feeling whole again. Not without them. I’d never be the same without my parents.

“Say something, little girl,” he whispers, cupping water with his hands and letting it spill over my chest. He doesn’t touch me in a sexual way as he kneels outside the tub. He just wants to nurture my bleeding soul.

I look up with unfocused, glazed eyes. “What do you want me to say?” My voice is flat, devoid of all emotion. There isn’t any more to feel. Just numbness.

Worry is deeply etched in his beautiful face. “Tell me you’re ok.”

I shake my head as the lump in my throat grows larger, causing me to gasp. “I can’t. I can’t say that.”

“Then tell me what to do. Tell me what you need.”

What I need?

“I need my mom to be alive. I need my dad to remember who I am. I need my loved ones to be safe. I need people to stop fucking dying on me—all things that can’t be fixed by you or me or anyone else for that matter.” I look away, ashamed for lashing out at him. His fingers touch my quivering chin and pull me back to face him. I half expect Dorian to be angry, but there is nothing but love and understanding in those crystal blue eyes.

“No, I can’t fix those things. But I can fix you, if you let me. If you’ll have me.” The back of his hand gently caresses my cheek before he tilts my head to meet his gaze. I immediately pull away.

“No, Dorian. I don’t want to forget.”

“You don’t have to, love. But let me give you me. Breathe me. Let me sustain you, baby.”

He extends an arm, offering the inside of his bare wrist. I look down at it, and something in my gut coils with need. I want this. I need this. But I feel so guilty for it. I know this is a part of who we are, but I hate the way my craving invokes desire in every cell in my body.

Just a little to replenish, I tell myself. I’ll just take what I need and go back to mourning my parents. That sounds reasonable. Right?

I take his arm in my trembling hands and stroke the thin, iridescent skin over blue veins. It pulses, calling out for me. Daring me to deny what my body so desperately needs.

With the first intake of Dorian’s magic, I moan, causing him to hiss as he drags his teeth over his bottom lip. My gaze meets his, piercing deep down inside him as I take another draw of his life force. I watch with hooded eyes as his pupils dilate and he sucks in a gulp of air.

“More,” he rasps, his breath coming out in short pants. “More.”

I slide my mouth from Dorian’s wrist to the crook of his elbow, letting euphoria fill me with every lungful. I tingle all over, every cell in my body bursting with bliss. I can feel him living inside me—nourishing my soul. Feeding my darkness. Fucking every nerve ending.

Another intake, and my moans grow louder. Carnal need and desire take over, and I pull Dorian to me by the collar of his shirt, crushing his lips to mine. He kisses me back for just a second before pulling away.

“This isn’t right. You’re hurting. I just want to help you heal.”

The ache of rejection gathers in my chest but I ignore it, looking up at him with desperate eyes. “I need you, Dorian. Please. If you want to help me, help me feel something other than pain. Just for a little while. Please?”

He searches my face, looking for any signs of uncertainty. When there’s none to be found, he’s cupping my face and crushing his lips to mine. My hands slip into his hair and I pull the silken strands, causing him to moan in my mouth. That’s all the motivation I need before I grasp his shoulders and pull his fully clothed body into the tub with me.

Water sloshes around us as our bodies find one other amidst a sea of sin and sorrow. I wrap my legs around him, urging him closer, wishing like hell that I could feel his skin against mine. It’s not enough. I need more of him. I need all of him.

Our lips never part as I rip his soaked shirt from his body and toss it aside, relishing the feel of his slick body moving with mine. When I reach between us to undo his pants, he stops me, pulling my hands between our chests.

Dorian’s lips abandon me, but he stays close —so close that I can feel his cool breath fanning over my face. He looks at me—right into my soul—seeing a million shades of hurt and self-loathing. I can’t hide from those intense eyes. I can’t stow away the panic that overwhelms me every time I think about losing another loved one. He sees it all—every single bit of my ugly.

Eyes still boring into me, he releases my hands to unfasten his pants, quickly unsheathing himself. Then he’s pushing into me, the water adding another level of slick friction.

“Don’t stop,” I beg.

“Never.”

Dorian roughly kisses my lips as he strokes wildly…hungrily. As if he’s searching for something within my quivering walls. I bury my head in the crook of his neck and grasp his ass, trying to pull him in deeper. My body may be full but something inside me is still so empty. Something that may never be filled again.

I hate that I feel this way. Hate that I’m using him to escape myself. But the feel of Dorian nestled inside me, worshipping my body, sexing me beyond sensation, is heaven. And I’m tired of living in hell.

His fingers touch my cheek, and I feel his movements slow to lazy thrusts. “Hey. Come back to me,” Dorian whispers against the side of my head.

I turn to meet his gentle gaze and am derailed by my own reflection in those haunting, blue eyes. I try to jerk away but he grips my face, forcing me to face my fear and loathing.

I didn’t just lose two parents today. I killed someone. Me. I took a human life without a second thought. And I know I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. I know I will do it again.

There’s something jarring about the very moment you realize that you’re a killer. That the ability to steal a life is right at your fingertips, tingling with the need to feel that overwhelming surge of power again. And every time you give into that craving, you lose a bit of your humanity. You lose a bit of yourself, until you don’t even recognize the person you once were.

“Stop it,” I choke out.

“No. Not until you look at me. Not until you see what I see.”

I’m crying, but it’s not enough for him to let me go or even slow his greedy strokes. Maybe it’s my resistance or my vulnerability, but I swear I feel him stretch deeper. As if he’s trying to fill the emptiness inside me and make me whole again.

I moan through a sob, as my body battles with my emotions. I should be utterly repulsed with myself. With him. I should despise him for doing this to me in my weakest moments. But I won’t stop him. I need this. I need Dorian to take me away from this. Just take it all away.

In the next instant he stands, supporting my backside with his palms to keep my body joined with his. The bathroom blurs into the bedroom and he’s laying me down on the bed, still thrusting, still staring at me like he’s afraid that I’ll slip away into darkness.

“Stay with me,” he breathes, his strokes growing more urgent, more desperate. “Stay, little girl.”

I shudder as the tip of him presses against that hidden place deep inside, begging me to relent. It coaxes the sheer oblivion so close that I can taste it. Still, I shake my head, denying myself. Refusing the pleasure Dorian gives me. I don’t deserve it. And I damn sure don’t deserve him.

“Gabriella,” he groans through clenched teeth. He’s begging. He needs me to come with him. To fly away from all this ugliness and pain together, hand in hand. I’m hurting him with my denial. I know it, yet I can’t help it.

“No.” Tears fall freely, sliding down the sides of my face, escaping the anguish festering inside me.

“Please.”

“I can’t.”

But even as I say the words, I know that I will. My body is his. It always has been. And even though my soul is broken, he’ll always have dominion over the parts of me that quiver and yearn for him. Even if my heart is too shattered to ever function again.

I grip his back as I come, sobbing into the crook of his neck. He bites back his own moans of climax, letting me fall apart in both pain and pleasure. He holds me close, kissing my hair, telling me I’ll be ok. That he’s here, and will always be here. That he’ll never let me go. Being so sweet and so patient and oh-so-fucking-too-good for me.

Dorian Skotos became my savior in that moment, more so than he already was. And part of me—the Dark, ugly, abhorrent side—began to resent him for it.

I’M NOT SURE when I stopped crying. Or when Dorian pulled out of me. I just know that it was suddenly cold, and I felt irrevocably empty.

“I have to go,” he says. He’s lying next to me, his sopping-wet pants still wound around his ankles.

“Where?” I don’t look at him. I don’t want him to see me like this. So…broken. Weak.

“Handle some things. I’ll be back…later.” He brushes a damp lock of hair from my cheek. “Rest. You need to sleep.”

I almost laugh. “Sleep? I can’t sleep. I may never sleep again.”

“At least try. For me.”

I turn my head and look at him. This man, capable of so much love, yet so much evil. He’s hurt people—killed people—yet here he is. Comforting me in my darkest hour.

“How do you do it? How do you stow it all away? All the hurt and abandonment? All the loss? How do you get over it? How do you keep living—keep breathing—even when you feel like you could drown in perpetual mourning?”

Dorian pulls me close, pressing soft lips to my forehead. “You find something—or someone—to live for instead. And every day of your existence is focused on keeping her happy and healthy. And even when you fail at that, you try again. Because she is your life. She is everything.”

His words leave me speechless, looking at him with wondrous, glassy eyes. A soft smile passes his lips before he touches them to my forehead once more. “Don’t answer the door under any circumstances. Alex will be patrolling the area. Try to rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me shivering with cold and loneliness. I contemplate just wrapping myself in the damp comforter and forcing my eyelids shut, but I can’t fathom being alone. I slip on a worn sweatshirt and some old, ratty flannel pajama bottoms that I stole from Chris years ago. They’re three sizes too big, and I have to roll the waist a few times, but I love them. And now that it’s probably the last little piece that I have of my dad, I couldn’t imagine ever letting them go.

I pad down the hallway and press my ear against Morgan’s bedroom door. Her breathing is steady, but I can sense her mind. She’s just as restless as me.

“Morgan?” I whisper, pushing the door open. Morgan is lying on her side on the bed, her face to the wall. It’s amazing what a little magic can do. A day ago, blood was soaked through to the box spring. Now there doesn’t seem to be even an inkling of her would-be death. Even Dolce is propped on the plush, satin pillow situated in the corner as if the poor pup hadn’t nearly witnessed its beloved owner’s suicide.

Morgan doesn’t turn around, but she hears me. “Yeah?” Her voice is raw, as if she’s been crying. I can’t recall how many times I’ve seen my friend cry. She’s never been one of those overly-emotional types. That’s something we shared in common.

I climb into bed with her, wrapping my arms around her waist. We weren’t really touchy-feely either, but sometimes, when life was especially ugly, she’d crawl into bed with me or I’d crawl into bed with her. And we’d spoon, holding each other together, because nobody else would.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, resting my head on her pillow. It’s damp with salty tears. I can smell them.

“Would you sleep if you were me? If every time you closed your eyes you saw another face mutilated in the most gruesome death you could ever imagine?”

I hold my breath for half a minute, biting back a horrified gasp. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…all of this. For what’s happening to you.”

“Not your fault, Gabs.”

But we both know it is my fault. Everything…her overdeveloped sight, Donna’s murder, Chris’s detachment…I’m to blame for all of it.

We lay in silence because there’s nothing left to say. Morgan will never know peace again. Even if she learns to control her newfound ability, she’ll still be plagued with remembrance. She’ll never be able to unsee those faces...those deaths. And she doesn’t deserve that. Maybe I do, but not her.

I stroke her hair before letting my fingertips brush her forehead, willing her eyes to close. Praying that somewhere in dreamland she could find peace, if only for a few hours. “Sleep,” I whisper so softly, the word is barely audible even to my ears.

I’d seen Niko do the same to Morgan the day before when she was in a fit of terror, too far gone to listen to reason. I honestly didn’t know if I was capable of invoking the same reaction in her. But as her breath becomes slow and level, and her body sags in slumber, I know I’ve done it. Even if Morgan may never fall asleep again, even if monsters hide behind her eyes, watching, waiting, for exhaustion to take her away, I was able to give her a tiny slice of serenity.

I climb from the bed, bend over to give Dolce a scratch behind the ears, and pad out to the living room. It’s dark…quiet…but not eerily so. I know Alexander is nearby; I can sense him. I can feel the haze of his magic raking over my skin like a sweet caress. I can taste its potency on my tongue, even though he’s been deflecting for Morgan’s sake. Still, he can’t hide from me. None of them can. I can feel them even when they don’t want me to.

I sit at the kitchen bar, wishing someone—anyone—was around. Being alone makes me realize just how truly lonely I am. Yes, I have Dorian, but as dysfunctional and all-around fucked up as they are, he still has his parents. He still has a family, a brother that adores and admires him. He still has a childhood home to escape to when life gets too heavy to bear. Even Morgan can scoop up Dolce, jump in her Mustang, and head back to her parent’s house up North. Sure, I have Alexander, and I know without a doubt that he is my biological father. But as it stands, that’s all he is. I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. And who’s to say that I can really trust him? How do I know that he’s not just biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike and pilfer my power for himself?

I tap my fingers against the marble countertop, feeling overwhelmingly agitated and paranoid. That’s what silence will do to you—make your mind concoct all types of silly notions and theories of betrayal. It’s exactly the reason why I’d drank myself to sleep every night when Dorian left me—I’d not been able to stand the quiet of his absence. It had felt too heavy, too thick. Too full of unanswered questions and half-truths.

I hate this version of Gabs. I despise even this line of consciousness. I would always ridicule those heroines in books and movies—the ones that would turn into blithering, pathetic fools in the face of adversity. The ones who became weak just as things got hard. I wasn’t made to break under pressure. Chris and Donna taught me better than that.

But I had.

I am.

And I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how to pick up the pieces and press on. To fight for something greater than me when I have nothing else to live for.

I shake the thoughts from my head, refusing to let them take me under. Donna’s death won’t be in vain. I won’t let this kill me. If anything, I’ll let vengeance become my life source. I’ll let it fill my lungs, race through my veins. I’ll eat it, breathe it. And on those rare occasions when I can sleep, I’ll dream of killing the bastard responsible for taking my mother from me. My first kill was merely a knee-jerk reaction. This one will be deliberate, calculated. Goddamn satisfying.

Hopped up on rage and adrenaline, I don’t even realize I’ve opened the cabinet that houses our stash of booze until I’ve poured myself a shot of whiskey. I down it in one gulp, letting the burn stoke the flames of fury inside me. I pour another and another, welcoming that sweet oblivion where there is no shame and guilt. Where the devil inside me dances in a pit of fire, laughing and spitting on my enemies as they kneel before me.

This is the Gabs they wanted when they sent mere humans to destroy me.

This is the reaction they had hoped to gain when they chose to kill the only mother I knew.

Now they have her. And this room—this apartment—can’t contain her.

I want to go out. I need air. I need space to breathe and scream and be. Morgan is out of commission, and Niko is dealing with Chris (I won’t think about it. I can’t think about it.). So there’s only one person I can think of that will understand me. That may not understand this Gabs, yet love and except her anyway.

“Hello?” His voice is groggy as if he’s been asleep. I look over at the digital display on the microwave. It flashes 12:47am. Shit.

“Hey. Jared. Were you asleep?”

“Gabs? What the…? Are you ok?” His voice is clearer, as if a bucket of ice has been tipped over his head. I hear rustling on the other end, and imagine him sitting up in bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, no. I’m not fine, but…I don’t want to talk about it.”

He releases a heavy breath. “Damn, girl. You had me worried. Morgan had been calling all over town trying to find you the other night. And I tried your cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Are you sure you’re alright?”

I pour another shot, wishing I could somehow feed it to Jared through the phone. I don’t want him asking questions that I can’t answer. I just want him to be Fun Jared. Easygoing Jared. The Jared that would pick me up and take me to the carnival for a night of carefree fun and junk food when things got too crazy. I missed my friend. Hell, I even missed his easy, uncomplicated love. It was safe, and dammit, I need safe.

But ever since we tried to have some type of relationship, only to have it end badly at Dorian’s engagement party when I was caught dancing with the groom-to-be, things have been more than strained between us. We hadn’t spoken since that night, not even so much as a text. And just when I had finally built up the nerve to go see him and apologize, Xavier, the psychotic, murderous Light Enchanter, completely foiled those plans.

“So…what do you want, Gabs?”

Ouch. His tone stings, but I deserve it. Probably much worse for what I’ve put him through.

“Um, uh…” Shit. What do I want? For him to comfort me? Tell me it’ll be ok? Swing by and pick me up for an evening of mindless debauchery? Months ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to suggest all of the above. But now…now there’s just too much left unsaid. Too many issues left unresolved. And now that my future is murkier than ever, do I even have time to make things right?

“Gabs? Did you need something?”

I take a deep breath and release it, exhaling everything we once were and what we could’ve been. Human Gabs should’ve ended up with Jared. She would’ve been his biggest cheerleader at every soccer match. She would’ve squeezed his muscled arm and hung on to his every word at parties. And when they were ready, she would’ve said yes when he popped the big question after graduation. Jared would’ve been her world, and she would’ve given him every bit of herself, without provocation. Because he was worth it, and she was lucky to have him.

But Human Gabs died just days ago, right there in Garden of the Gods with lightning raining down around her in a fury of nature. The minute I shed my human life, just as a snake sheds its skin, I became wild and free. Reborn. And Jared—with those dazzling green eyes and wholesome boyish charm—just didn’t fit anymore. It wasn’t right of me to even want him to.

I wish I could tell him that; he’d understand more than anyone. He’d tell me I was crazy—that no matter what, I’d always be his Gabs. I’d always be that hazel-eyed, curly-haired girl that couldn’t hide her secret crush on him. That girl that had wanted him to be the moon and stars—before she could ever truly see their immense beauty.

I came back down to earth, his question echoing in my head. Did I need something? Something that—sweet, handsome, mortal Jared—could provide? “No,” I answer, my voice a mere whisper. “I don’t need anything. I just wanted to tell you—”

I hear rustling, followed by three knocks at the door.

Oh no.

No no no no.

“Jared, don’t open it!” I shriek, already rushing to my closet to slip on my tennis shoes. I stuff my feet into them in less than a second and am already searching for my keys.

Shiiiiiit!

I don’t have my car!

I search for Morgan’s, but I can’t find them. Dammit! Dorian must’ve taken her car.

“Jared! Listen to me. Do not answer that door! I’ll be there in a minute!”

“What?” I can hear him padding across the hall, marching right towards Death. He holds his breath for just a pinch of a moment, and I imagine him looking out the peephole. “Chill out, Gabs. It’s just Carey from across the hall. I think she and a couple of her sorority sisters are having a party or something.”

“It’s not her, Jared! Please, listen to me! You can’t trust anybody! No one is safe!”

In the next instant, Alexander appears before my eyes, concern dimpling his forehead. He must’ve heard my alarm. I put my hand over the receiver and pull the phone away from my ear before turning to him, desperate for any help I can get.

“Please, I need your help! I need you to fly or teleport or whatever it is you do. I need you to get to UCCS and rescue my friend. Now!”

Hope drains from Alexander’s face and his shoulders sag before he’s shaking his head. “Gabriella, I wish…I wish I could. But we cannot manifest where we have never been. I have not ever visited that location. I’m sorry.”

I don’t even let myself get pissed. I don’t have time for that. “Fine. Then teach me how.”

He shakes his head. “It cannot be taught. It comes from within.”

This can’t happen. No. I can’t let this happen.

I can’t lose Jared. I can’t feel even an ounce of pain. No more. Please…no more.

I hear Jared’s shout from the phone in my hand, trying to get my attention. “Hello? Gabs? You still there?”

I swallow, my mouth dry and tasting of stale liquor. “Don’t open it, Jared. Please.”

I don’t even know if I’m really saying the words. Maybe I imagined saying them. Maybe it’s lingering regret on my tongue from not making him hear me. Because even as the words resound inside my skull, I hear the click of a lock, the twist of a doorknob. The sharp inhale of breath.

He opens the door.

I DON’T HAVE to look at Alexander to know that his face is contorted in a frozen state of shock and horror. I couldn’t see him through my haze of dread even if I tried. All I can focus on is the sound of Jared’s voice, waiting, listening, for any inflection. Any indication that his next word will be his last.

“Hey, Casey. What’s up?” I can hear the reluctance in his voice. Maybe on some level, he knows that my warning was warranted. Still, he opened the door.

He opened the door.

In the past 48 hours, opening damn doors has knocked me on my ass every-fucking-time.

I opened the door at Dorian’s suite and Alexander, my very undead father, is standing there.

Then I opened it to let room service in, only to find Niko and a poison-laden cart, wheeled by some punk-kid hopped up on Dark magic.

Opened the door to Morgan’s room. Found that she’d nearly killed herself.

And the one time I didn’t open the door at my parent’s house…I wished I did. That knock was meant for me. That dagger to the gut should have been mine.

Donna’s blood is still fresh on my hands. I can still smell her. Can still feel her warmth slipping away as I held her limp body. I still see the look in her eyes as she looked up at me, begging me to help her—to save her. To be the very thing I was set on this earth to be.

Now I’m about to lose another precious part of me. And I’m afraid that after this, I won’t have any more left to lose.

“Please. Please close the door, Jared.” I know he can’t hear me; he’s pulled the phone away from his ear. My voice is so weak, as if my body has given up. Or maybe it’s learned to protect itself from the inevitable. It’s learned, adapted. It knows that any more pain—even just an ounce—would be my undoing. There would be no chance of recovery.

A feminine voice—saccharine sweet and nauseatingly shrill—purrs his name, seduction dripping from every consonant. “Jared. How are you?”

“Fine.” It sounds almost like a question, as if he’s trying to figure out why the hell this chick is at his door at nearly 1:00 am. “Everything ok, Casey?”

Even in suspicion, he’s caring to a fault. The girl laughs like his kindness is a joke. Like it amuses her that he’s so oblivious. I know that sound—it’s the call of a predator. And Jared is the sweetest kind of prey.

“Everything is definitely ok, Jared.” She says his name again, letting it slide over her venomous tongue. It sounds unnatural, too deliberate. “But I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk? Who the fuck talks this late at night? What the hell does she need to say?

“No!” I scream into the receiver. “Close the door, Jared!” I’m completely aware of the jealousy roiling in my chest, but most of it is fear. And rage. Blinding, red-tinged rage.

“Don’t you want to hang up the phone?” she asks, a hint of annoyance in that unnatural screech of a voice. I hear her shuffle forward, and her heart rate spikes with excitement. Back up, bitch, I silently scream.

“Um…just, uh, a sec,” Jared stammers before placing the phone to his ear. “Gabs, can I call you back?”

“No, you can’t,” I’m yelling before he can even complete the question. “Do not hang up. Close the door, Jared. There’s something I need to tell you. Please.”

“Tell me? Can it wait?” The girl co-signs his suggestion, and I swear I feel my pressure rise into the danger zone.

“Tell that bitch to mind her business and shut the door. It can’t wait, Jared. It may be too late. And…and…something happened tonight. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but you have to know…about Donna.”

“Donna?”

Casey bristles impatiently, insisting Jared give her his undivided attention. She’s not backing down, fully prepared to fight dirty. “Jared, don’t you want to hear what I have to say? Or better yet, what I want to do? Come on, sexy, you know you want to.”

“Don’t listen to her, Jared! Seriously, I need to talk to you!”

Jared sighs uncomfortably, and I imagine him rubbing the back of his neck as nerves creep up his spine. “Ok, Gabs. Just give me a sec.” Even though he covers the mouthpiece with his thumb, I can still hear with crystal clarity. I can even picture the irritated scowl this Casey chick would undoubtedly wear. “Hey, Case, can I stop by later? Like in the morning?”

“No, you can’t. It has to be now,” she sneers, obviously offended that he brushed her off. Casey doesn’t sound like she takes rejection well. Boo hoo, bitch.

“What does?” For God’s sake, Jared! Close the damn door! Stop being so nice!

“What I’ve been dying to do for months.” Her voice drops an octave, and I can hear her moving, stepping over the threshold of the doorframe. Her voice is closer, her breathing ragged with lust. “Kiss me, Jared.”

“What?” He sounds genuinely surprised, as if the request is totally out of left field. As if it’s out of character for Casey to ask such a thing.

“Kiss me.”

“Casey, I think you—”

A loud, screeching clatter impales my eardrum and their voices grow to screams, yet they sound farther away. There’s a struggle, scratching flesh, ripping clothing. Either they’re rolling around in violent passion or Jared’s being attacked. Human Gabs would have been crushed at the first scenario. Immortal, I-Will-Cut-A-Bitch Gabs knows it’s the latter of the two.

“Just one kiss, Jared,” Casey growls, her voice sounding less shrill and more menacing. “Just give me one kiss.”

The fuck? She’s lip-raping him?

“What the hell is wrong with you, Case? When did you get so freakishly strong? Get off me! This isn’t you!”

Freakishly strong.

Uncharacteristic behavior.

Fucking hell.

I never wanted to be wrong more than in this moment. I longed for paranoia. I prayed I was just being irrationally jealous and possessive of a green-eyed boy that could never be mine. It would have been easier to imagine him hooking up with his sorority girl neighbor. Anything would have been better than this.

The tone of Casey’s voice dips lower, and an inhumane sound rumbles her throat, preluding a haunting, ancient voice that long precedes her young years. “You will place your lips upon mine, boy. And you shall taste the sweetest death.”

I’m screaming, begging for Jared to hear me from where ever the phone has been knocked away, so loudly that I almost don’t catch an ear-splitting bang, followed by the sickly sounds of bones crumbling to dust.

Then it’s quiet. So quiet that I only hear the pounding of a racing heart. Only one single, human heart.

Soft footsteps grow nearer before there’s movement at the phone once again. Someone’s picked it up. I hold my breath, praying that it’s him. That the solitary heartbeat belongs to Jared, and that he’s safe and sound once again. My sweet, handsome friend who has always been too damn good for the likes of me.

When I hear the voice on the other end, I swallow the breath I’m holding, feeling like I could never breathe again.

“I’m sorry, little girl.”

There’s a click, and the connection dies, along with my last shred of hope.

I ONCE BELIEVED I was tethered to this earth by gravity. An unseen force so great and powerful that it keeps my feet planted to the ground, no matter how far from reality I may drift. I always come back down. My existence was ruled by science.

Then a beautiful man told me that everything in my world could not be explained with science and logic. That there were phenomena so far beyond my realm of understanding that could only be measured as one thing: magic. And I realized that gravity was as superficial as my human life. It was an idea steeped in reason in a world without reason. So I really hadn't been bound by it at all.

I am held by a much greater force, something so powerful that I can't contain it. I can't control it. I can only live it, and pray that it will show mercy.

I realize that I am tethered by love.

Love for my family, my friends. Love for a man who still battles the urge to kill me. Who takes pleasure in hurting me with every soul-crushing climax.

I’ve become an illogical being, something that can’t be found in textbooks or studied in a laboratory. I am magic. And I am ruled by a love so erratic and unstable that I am forced to relinquish all control to it. It taunts me. It punishes me. It dangles serenity and happiness in front of me only to snatch it away, howling with delight at my agony. Yet, I keep holding onto it, keep entrusting my existence to this monster in hopes that it will deem me fit to capture it forever. Because without it, I have no connection to this life. No bond forged in blood and bone. No reason to breathe, no reason to live.

Love is my weakness. It is my enemy. It is my savior.

Once again, it’s testing me, seeing how far it could push me until I began to break. Jared had always been one of those invisible strings that kept me tied to my human life. I had been forced to cut the ones that bound me to Chris and Donna. Without Jared, how many more strings do I have left? How many more have to be severed before I float away into nothingness? How long can I go on before I want to cut the damn strings myself?

Alexander watches me pace the floor, so still that I forget that he’s there. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t even blink. He just watches me, remorse hardening his ethereal features.

I should hate him. I should cast him away to the Dark king as an act of penance. But even as I think it, I know I would never do it. I could never subject myself to that type of evil for a man whose only crime was love. That very same demon had stolen away the people we cared for the most.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?” I mumble for the twentieth time. I hit redial, only to get the same automated message. We’re sorry. The line you are trying to reach has been disconnected…

I curse and try Dorian’s cell again, and of course, it rolls over to voicemail, informing me that his mailbox is full. “Fuck this. I’m going over there.”

“That is impossible, Gabriella.”

“How is that impossible? I was able to freeze you and Dorian just fine. Maybe I’m a fast learner.”

Alexander shakes his head. “Without proper training, you could be lost. Stuck between dimensions. Only your mind would be the key to finding you, and that could take us centuries.”

I huff out an irritated breath. “Fine. I’ll call a cab. I have to get to Jared, with or without your help.”

Again, he shakes his head, ratcheting up my anger by a few more degrees. “That would not be possible either. You cannot trust anyone. Humans especially.”

“So I’m supposed to hide? To fear the world? Am I not the Dark Light? More powerful than anyone else, even Dorian? Even you?”

His gaze ices over, and I watch him battle the darkness breeching the surface. “Humble yourself, child. From whom much is given, much is required. Don’t let pride cloud your purpose. Just as simply as you received these gifts of the Divine, they can be ripped away.”

I shake my head and look away, fighting frustrated tears. I know he’s right, and I know I’m acting like a spoiled child. But I can’t imagine what could be going on across town. Is Jared…dead? Was Dorian too late? Or could he have had something to do with it?

I’m sorry, little girl.

For what? For not saving him? For having a hand in his death? The thought nauseates me.

“He is an honorable man, Gabriella,” Alexander remarks, reading the turmoil in my glassy eyes. “He would never harm someone you loved, and would protect them as fiercely as he protects you.”

I look up at my father—my last living relative, biologically or not. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes. I trusted him with my life for nearly a century. No matter what animosities may rest between us, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. War bonds you in a way that goes far beyond friendships and emotional attachment. It builds brothers out of strangers. Dorian Skotos may have been misguided in pursuing you, but his intentions were good. And if he did not truly care for you, you would not be here now. I have witnessed him demolish greater men with his bare hands without a single inkling of remorse. He’s watched the burning of entire villages without a shred of guilt. But with you…he is different. He feels. He has managed to withhold his emotions for over two hundred years, only to have them purged from his soul by a young, beautiful girl. Imagine how incredibly difficult that must be for him—to not be able to contain his affections for the very creature he was sent to assassinate. I understand that inner battle, more than you could ever know.”

I’m stunned speechless, not only by his words, but the conviction in his voice. I believe him. And even though I may not really know him, I know Dorian. I know the man I met a year ago in that crowded club. And when he pressed his lips to my hand, leaving behind a trail of icy tingles, I felt something stir inside me. He wasn’t awakening the beast. He was recognizing it with his own. Accepting it. Showing me that he could love every complex piece of me—even the parts he didn’t understand.

I don’t believe he ever had planned to kill me. When I met him, I didn’t feel fear. There was no silent alarm blaring in my head whenever he was near. I was exhilarated by his presence. I knew he was dangerous on some level, but that only made me want him more. If I was scared of anything, it was losing him, only to be cast back into my mediocre ruse of a life.

Taking a bit of comfort in my realization, along with Alexander’s vehement description of Dorian, I walk over to the couch and sink into the cushion, releasing a world of confusion and frustration in a heavy sigh. I don’t look back at Alexander, but he knows I’m waiting for him to accept my invitation to join me. When he sits in the adjacent armchair, I look up at him with apology in my gaze. I’ve acted like a brat since he arrived. This man escaped captivity and lived in hiding for twenty-one years, fueled by the hope that we could one day be together. And in the past two days, we’ve hardly had the opportunity to have a decent conversation.

I want to know my dad. I want to know about the Warlock that betrayed his race for a woman he was programmed to despise. A woman that he had been trained to kill. What secrets lie behind those ice blue eyes? What hidden pain is he concealing under that controlled, stoic guise?

“Can you tell me…how? How you came to know my mother? Natalia?”

A smile twitches his lips just at the mention of her name, and I imagine her face manifesting in his mind. “She was a brave warrior, highly trained and cunning. Incredible strength and speed. Of all the Dark Hunters, she was the most revered. Had killed more of my men than I’d like to admit.” He chuckles, as if the thought of the beautiful, petite woman slaying men twice her size was amusing. But I can see that he not only loved her—he respected her. He admired her skill.

“When Dorian and I were given the order to hunt her after lesser men failed, I was excited at the chance. Finally, a real fight. Something to break me out of the monotony of my existence. Something to make me feel alive again. But what I found instead was so much more. I was…intrigued. I hadn’t been interested in much more than killing for many decades. But I found myself curious of her. Desiring just a moment of her attention.”

I try to picture the day in the woods that my mother wrote about in her journal. The day she first saw my father while perched atop a tree. I find myself smiling too. “Do you think she felt the same? Do you think she was also intrigued?”

“At first, no,” he replies with a shake of his head. “She abhorred everything the Dark stood for. We were not a merciful people. We slaughtered many of her kind through years of fighting. I could understand her hostility—she was sent to extinguish us. That was her objective. However, she was not without compassion. Maybe she saw how much war had withered away my will to live. Maybe she found honor within me when I did not expose her that day.”

“Why didn’t you? Why did you lie about seeing her?” I’m on the edge of my seat. This is the most we’ve spoken to each other since he arrived. There’s so much I want to know about him, my mother, even Dorian. He could answer all the questions I’ve been harboring for the past two decades.

“I do not know. But I believe it was something bigger than both of us that kept us from killing each other that day. It was destiny—the Divine’s will. He would not have spared us otherwise.”

“And what about the next time? When you ambushed her in the abandoned warehouse? Did you plan to spare her then too?”

He shrugs, and it looks like a foreign gesture for him, as if he is not familiar with the movement. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I failed to strike. I told myself that I had been fooled by Light illusion during our first encounter. I had not planned to let it happen again. There was no deception in her golden eyes as we bound her from all sides. She didn’t cry or show one ounce of fear. She was bold and proud and radiant. Her Light was brighter than any I had ever seen.”

My mother was a gorgeous, badass woman, even in the face of Death. Wow. What a legacy to live up to. What I wouldn’t give to have the chance to learn from her.

“I had to seek her,” Alexander continues, immersed in the tale he’s probably replayed over and over since the day he was torn away from her. “I had to figure out why I was so drawn to her. It was driving me mad, distracting me from my work. Dorian was suspicious. We were closer than brothers, yet he had never seen me act so reckless and unpredictable. I knew he wouldn’t approve, so I set out to find her on my own. Naturally, the Hunters were nomadic, but my tracking abilities were superior. And when I found her, she nearly killed me.”

“And you let her.”

He nods once. “Yes. I was on her territory. It was foolish of me, but I hadn’t been able to think rationally since that day in the woods. When she realized that I would not fight back, she bound me, but she healed me.”

“She healed you? So the Light can heal the Dark?” So I do have a chance at helping the people I love?

“More or less. Our magic is like positive and negative charges. Yin and yang. We are opposites in every way. To heal me, she had to reabsorb her energy. Then she gave me her life force so I could regenerate.”

“But didn’t that…change you?” Wouldn’t that make him more Light?

“Not in the way you would think. It created a physical bond between us. Slight and temporary, given the small amount of herself she transferred to me, but I felt her living inside me. And it only solidified my desire to know her.”

I look away from his mesmerizing gaze to find that I’ve somehow shifted closer to him and am on the very edge of the couch. I’ve been so engrossed in his story that I didn’t realize I’d been moving.

“So that’s what did it? That’s what made you—”

My next words are cut off by a garbled scream, as blinding pain sears my back. I try to reach behind me, convinced that someone has taken a red-hot branding iron to my skin. I can smell my own flesh burning, melting straight down to the bone. Alexander is already on me, ripping off my shirt as I double over on the floor in pain, shrieking, crying, choking. I vomit through sobs until I’m too weak to even heave.

“Oh, no,” Alexander gasps in horror behind me.

It’s the last thing I hear before I pass out face down in my own bile.

PEACE LIVES HERE.

It's swims within the cool, clear waters carried by a rippling tide. It shines in the bright sun hanging above, radiating warmth and life. It's buried in the soft sands beneath me, tickling my toes and the back of my legs with tiny, grainy kisses. It's carried by the sweet winds that caress the tops of my shoulders.

There's no suffering in this place. No pain. No strife. It's my very own hidden paradise.

I sit in the same spot where Dorian had made love to me under a million stars. The same spot we’d sat when I died and my mind and body had needed time to heal.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

His voice both revolts and thrills me. It's not that I'm surprised he's here–I'm wise enough to know that he's never too far away–but I was seeking peace. Serenity. A safe house in the midst of a harsh storm.

"That's why I'm here," he says, reading my thoughts. "You recognize what I could provide you–safety, comfort, contentment. Do you not remember the last time we were here together? The way you wanted to please me? The joy you felt with just an ounce of my appreciation? Imagine the full impact of my favor, Gabriella. You would never have to feel anything more than bliss for the rest of your days."

I turn towards Stavros's voice although I know he is not there. My blood doesn't sizzle in my veins. My skin doesn't dampen and ache to be touched. My mouth doesn't salivate with the uncontrollable need to have him on my tongue.

"But you want to hurt me," I manage to say, sounding every bit of the meek, little girl that he believes me to be.

He laughs, and a frigid gust of wind rakes over my skin, pebbling my nipples. "I do not want to hurt you, Gabriella. I want to teach you. I want to guide you. And when you're ready, I want to fuck you. And I will. You and I both know it. You were not meant to lay with a mere prince. You were made to inhabit the bed of a king. To sit beside him on a throne built of the sacred blood of Dark royals. You need a man, Gabriella. Not a boy."

I want to dispute his claims—to tell him that Dorian is all the man that I’ll ever need—but the tide suddenly rises and I'm lying in two inches of freezing cold water. Dark clouds eclipse the bright sun and the soft sands harden against my skin.

I twist and turn my body, but I sink deeper into the water. The flawless white sand that used to tickle my toes becomes dark and sticky, grasping onto my limbs, pulling me under like a vacuum. I fight to stay at the surface, but it’s too strong. Within seconds my arms and legs have been completely devoured by the quicksand. I open my mouth to scream, hoping that the king will show mercy, but a bolt of lightning slices open the sky, purging torrential rains from the heavens.

I can’t breathe. I’m choking, drowning. My body is bound by the earth, while the sky punishes me with a sheet of rain so thick, I can’t even see two inches in front of me. Water collects in my eyes, my nose, my mouth. And although I can no longer hear the roar of the wind, I hear his laughter taunting me once more, before the earth swallows me whole.

I AWAKE THRASHING, gulping air, clawing at pillows and blankets like I’m fighting for my life. I’m face down, but there is no quicksand. I’m not being buried alive on that beach in Skiathos. I’m in my bedroom, and I’m completely dry, save for the feel of wet, soft velvet brushing my back with slow, gentle strokes. It leaves behind a trail of pleasurable tingles, blooming sensation up and down my spine. I’ve felt that softness before. On my lips, on my nipples, between my thighs. It’s brought me more pleasure that any one person should be allowed to feel.

“You’re licking me?” I whisper. I knew Dorian was here, the moment I opened my eyes. His scent of rainwater and sex surrounds me, intoxicating my senses.

He shifts, settling beside me, and the velvet strokes cease. Still, warmth and comfort continue to radiate over my back.

“My hands are skilled, but my tongue can give you so much more.” I don’t miss the smile in his voice. Even when he’s concerned for me, he can’t help but drip with eroticism. “I came as soon as I felt your agony, but you had just fallen unconscious. How do you feel?”

I do a mental assessment of my body, grateful that the spontaneous, searing pain is gone. There’s not even a hint of vomit on me, save for the vile taste in my mouth. He must’ve cleansed me before putting me to bed.

“What happened?” My voice is raspy from screaming and retching, and it hurts to swallow. Feeling my discomfort, Dorian hands me a glass of water that I appreciatively gulp down in seconds. “There was so much pain…then I was on the beach…” With Stavros.

I turn to my side and glimpse the tight, grim line of his lips. “I know. I brought you back. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened. I was so sure that you had been spared.”

I pull the sheets up to cover my bare breasts before sitting up. “Spared?”

“From the curse. Your mark.”

My mark? My hand flies to my shoulder blade where my fingers trace a patch of raised skin, indicating some type of design. It’s cold to the touch, yet it doesn’t hurt. I’ve been marked. While I was writhing on the floor, feeling like something or someone was carving their initials in my skin with a blistering poker, I had been tagged as a corrupted beast—the price I’d been forced to pay for simply being born to a Dark father.

After the Dark disbanded from the Light, the Divine cursed them to wear a mark signifying their family name. It was only visible to those who were supernatural, or Otherworldlings, as Dorian put it, as a way to identify their shame and perversion. Dorian wore his on his ribs, bold script that read Skotos in Greek lettering. When nothing showed up the moment I ascended, I just assumed that my Light side had pretty much cancelled out my Dark. Especially considering that my magic is operating on a different wavelength than any of the two powers.

I bound out of bed and race to the bathroom, eager to see the brand that will be etched into my skin for eternity. How could I possibly be categorized? Polemos? Will the sins of my father haunt me for the rest of my days? Or have I created a new house, completely unique to who and what I am?

Naked from the waist up, I turn at just the right angle to see a symbol carved into my right shoulder blade. It’s an upside down triangle, although it’s broken at the very top and the two ends don’t meet. Within the triangle, there appears to be a P with an X branching from it. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and certainly nothing like the tattoos those Dark wannabes received.

“What is it?”

Dorian steps into view behind me and rests his hands gingerly on my shoulders. “The upturned triangle is what we symbolize as human. The emblem inside it is the Polemos house sigil.”

I frown. “But that doesn’t make sense. Yeah, I get the part about Polemos, but I’m not human. Right?”

He nods once, letting his solemn gaze drop to the floor. But not before I see the apology in his eyes. “You are not. And the break in the triangle signifies a flaw—a fracture. As if a human was broken enough to be infiltrated by magic. Polemos magic, to be exact.”

The full impact of his words hits me hard enough to make my knees buckle. Dorian swiftly catches my falter, and I lean against the sink, letting the pieces fall together. “This symbol doesn’t represent me, does it? This isn’t my mark.”

He shakes his head, cringing.

“It’s my punishment, right? My cross to bear for killing that boy…that innocent, human, fucking kid that was possessed and sent on a suicide mission by a piece of shit Dark coward.”

“I’m sorry, little girl.”

I’m sorry, little girl.

“Oh my God. Jared,” I whisper as remembrance slams into me. “What happened, Dorian? Is he ok? Where is he now?”

Again, Dorian looks at me with regret in those endless baby blues, and I feel my blood grow cold. “The boy is fine.”

Fine? Then why the hell is he looking at me like that? Like he’s just discovered that last bit of my heart that’s still unmarred, still beating with life, only so he can crush it in the palm of his hand?

“Well, where is he? Can I see him? Give me the keys. I’ll shoot over to his room now.” I take a step toward the bedroom, and Dorian stops my advance with a hand on my elbow.

“That’s not possible, Gabriella. He’s…gone.”

“Gone?” I pull out of his grasp as if his fingertips are laced with arsenic. “You just said he was fine. What happened over there? What is it that you’re not telling me?”

He opens his mouth, but quickly snaps it shut before diverting his eyes. I know that gesture. I despise that gesture. It’s Dorian’s way of averting the question. He can’t lie, so simply omitting the truth is the next best thing. I won’t let him get away with it. Not this time. He will tell me what happened even if I have to infiltrate his inner most thoughts and feelings and sift them out myself.

“Don’t,” he murmurs through a tightly clenched jaw. He shoots me a look that flares with the promise of violence if I push him. Bring it.

“Tell me, Dorian. I won’t ask you again.”

He bores that penetrating gaze into me, the one that says he’s two seconds away from unleashing his inner demon and making me eat my words. He doesn’t do threats—give or take. “Leave it alone, Gabriella.” There’s a peculiar inflection in his voice, as if he’s just been transported to ancient Greece.

“I won’t let this go.” I shake my head, my eyes still locked on his so he can see the resolution in pools of blue and gold. “He’s my friend, Dorian. You know how I feel about him. And if you think I’ll just pick up and move on without knowing he’s ok, then you honestly know nothing about me.”

He’s as still as stone, completely unmovable, for a long beat before releasing a resigned sigh. “He’s at the airport. He’s transferring to Notre Dame for their soccer program. A slot just opened up recently, and he has to be there today.”

“What?” I take a step back, putting even more distance between us. “What are you talking about? It’s the middle of the semester. He’s a junior. Why would he transfer now? And all the way to Notre Dame? How is that even…”

I stand there, mouth agape, finally seeing the real reason Dorian has been looking at me with such guilt and anger painted on his face. He’s guilty because he had something to do with Jared’s sudden move across country. And angry with himself because he knew this would hurt me.

“Why were you at Jared’s dorm, Dorian? What reason would you have to tear yourself from my bed during the time I needed you the most, just to pay Jared a visit in the middle of the night?” My voice is calm, cold, much like his own.

“You know why, Gabriella. You saw what happened with Donna. Did you really think I’d let that happen again?”

I purse my lips and lift an accusing brow. “So you’re telling me that you did this for me.” It’s not a question. “That this has nothing to do with you wanting Jared out of the picture for good.”

“Have you given me a reason to want that?” He pins me with a glare as icy as his words.

“Absolutely not,” I say, rolling my eyes. “My loyalty has never been on trial. Can you say the same?”

Dorian sucks his teeth and snorts, a tight, sardonic smile on his lips. “Your friend was in danger, Gabriella. The girl who tried to attack him had been compelled by an Orexis—she shared their brand and had their magic on her lips. I did what needed to be done to ensure his safety, which included exposing myself. I didn’t have any other option. Should I have stood by and let him accept her kiss? To have the very life sucked from his body by a small, unsuspecting girl?”

“No, of course not—”

“Then what is it you want from me? You want me to suffer for what I’ve done? You want me to feel bad for wanting you all to myself? Because I don’t. I won’t apologize for doing what needed to be done.”

His words take the steam right out of me, and I bite back my initial retort. “I just wish you would’ve told me. So I could say goodbye...So I could tell him…” I shake the thoughts from my head and turn towards the bedroom. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get to the airport.”

“No.” The finality in his voice stops me up short, and I turn back to him.

“No?”

“No.” He scrubs a hand over his face, the static of aggravation rolling off him in waves. “It’s impossible.”

“Impossible?” I touch my palms to his chest, fully aware of my current state of undress. If he won’t listen to reason, maybe a little distraction will do the trick. “Nothing is impossible, Dorian. You of all people should know that.”

He leans into my touch, eyes closed, and inhales the small space between us. “He…he no longer knows you. You can’t say goodbye, because Jared has no recollection of you ever being a part of his life.”

I hear his words, but I can’t digest them. I refuse to let them be real.

Dorian has reversed Jared’s memories of me.

Every sweet smile, every tender brush of his hand, every warm hug that somehow engulfed my entire frame into the hardness of his body. Gone. Wiped away clean at the hands of the man I chose over the guy I once thought I loved. The guy I thought I would spend the rest of my life with.

“How could you?” My lower lip trembles, but I capture it with my teeth, refusing to show weakness. “Fuck this. I’m going to the airport. Jared is my friend. If he doesn’t remember me, I’ll make him.” I grab some mouthwash and swish it around in my mouth for a few seconds to dispel the taste of vomit, then throw my hair into a sloppy bun.

“Gabriella, I can’t let you do that.” Dorian is behind me, watching me as I whip out an old pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt that says Spring Break 2009.

“Oh yeah? Try to stop me.”

I finish dressing, refusing to acknowledge his penetrating stare. Dorian knew what he was doing by not at least informing me of his intentions. I appreciate him for saving Jared’s life, but his plans to reverse Jared’s memory was premeditated. That’s why he left me. It wasn’t to make sure my friend was safe; he knew he was stealing him away from me when he tore himself from my bed. He loved me so thoroughly and so tenderly just so he could rip another piece of my heart out.

I whip through the house like a tornado, calling out for Morgan, who I find sitting on the couch with Alexander. They’re being…normal. Watching TV and sipping from mugs of hot coffee. She looks better—rested—save for the tiny worried lines in her forehead.

“What’s wrong, Gabs?” She pushes Dolce off her lap, who quickly scampers out of sight. A smaller, weaker beast can always sense when a more vicious predator is near.

“Come on, we gotta go get Jared from the airport.”

“Airport? What are you talking about, Gabs?” She narrows her eyes, trying to figure out if I’m serious or delusional. “When did you speak to him? I thought you two weren’t—”

“I’ll explain on the way.” I toss her the keys to her car and her purse. Still, she doesn’t move. “Morgan. We have to go now!”

She casts a glance at Alexander then Dorian before giving me a nervous smile, confusion tightening her lips. Her reluctance infuriates me. I’m her friend. She should trust me. Two days ago, she was scared shitless of these men, and now she’s looking to them for guidance? Have I become that much of a liability? Or do they all pity me—the poor, little, almost-orphaned girl who doesn’t even know what the fuck she is?

“Fuck it,” I spit out, snatching her keys from the where they landed on the couch. If she won’t come, I’ll save Jared my damned self.

I’m outside, at the candy-red Mustang when I hear her approach. Morgan gingerly plucks the keys from my fingers and gives my shoulder a bump with hers. “You talk, I’ll drive.”

“SO DORIAN REALLY thinks all your loved ones are being targeted?” Morgan speeds down Powers Blvd. towards the Colorado Springs airport, like the car is on fire. Luckily, we don’t hit a single red light. I don’t question the hows and whys. I just fixate on the road, praying that Morgan doesn’t get us killed. Well…get herself killed. I’d probably walk away without a scratch.

“Apparently so. But he obviously can’t save them all, you know. What about James and Tammy? Or Carmen and Miguel?”

At the mention of her Latin beau’s name, she swerves, narrowly missing a passerby. “Oh my God.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is far away, as if thinking about him propels her into another place and time. Where shit wasn’t so complicated, and there were no Warlocks or magic or Haitian Vodou priestesses haunting her dreams. Where we had loving parents and amazing friends, and our biggest worry was what outfit we’d wear to the club on Saturday night.

I wish I could take her back there. Hell, I wish I could go back there. But everything’s different now. We can’t feign ignorance or chalk it all up to immaturity. This is it for us. There’s no going back to the life we once had.

We pull up to the airport in record time, and Morgan slows to let me out in front of the departure gates. “You go. I’ll park and find you!” she yells as I jump out. I nod, grateful that the entire airport is only slightly larger than a shoebox. Finding Jared should be a piece of cake. Right?

Wrong.

I zip through hordes of travelers before I find a cluster of screens displaying the endless lists of outbound and inbound flights.

Ok…Departures. Got it.

Destination: Notre Dame? That’s not right.

I look up flights to Indianapolis, thinking that would be my safest bet.

“South Bend,” a voice whispers, slipping into my ears and echoing inside my head. I whip around, looking for the source, but no one is there. It’s as if I didn’t even hear it all, that I just imagined the familiar voice. At least, that’s what I want to believe.

“Get out of my fucking head,” I mumble, turning my attention back to the screens. I find a flight to South Bend, IN scheduled to leave in the next thirty minutes. Shit! How am I supposed to catch him before then? I look towards the line of disgruntled people waiting to go through security and shake my head. There’s no way I’ll make it in time, but I’ll hate myself if I don’t at least try.

Luckily, the ticketing counter is shorter than I expected, and I reach an attendant within minutes.

“Ma’am, I need the cheapest flight you have. And I don’t care where it’s going.”

The blonde behind the counter tips her head to one side, as if she didn’t hear me correctly. “You don’t care where it’s going?”

I shake my head. “Just whatever you have. And hurry please.”

She smiles, looking down at her screen as she taps on the keys. “Going to stop the one that got away from getting away, I presume.”

“Something like that.”

She hits a key, causing a printer to spit out a strip of paper. Then she hands me a boarding pass. “In that case, it’s on me,” she grins, her eyes warming until they look almost…golden. It’s only for a second, but I swear I see the bright flash of light in her those shimmering irises. She’s Light. Oh my God. There’s so much I want to know, so much I want to ask her. But if I don’t run now, I won’t catch Jared.

“This should get you through security faster as well,” she says pointing at an emblem on the boarding pass. “Life is too hard to spend it without the people you love. Don’t let him get away.”

I swallow the sudden burst of emotion in my throat and nod. “Thank you,” I reply in a raspy whisper.

The attendant smiles and nods once. Her nametag says “Analiese.” I commit it to memory, mentally promising that I’ll come back and find her. Maybe that’s insane of me considering that a Light Enchanter was responsible for capturing and nearly killing me, but I don’t feel anything but goodness in Analiese’s eyes. That has to count for something.

I whiz through security just like she said, not even having to stop to take off my shoes. Then I book it to Jared’s gate, hoping, praying that he hasn’t already boarded.

When I see a flash of chestnut hair and a set of broad shoulders stretched under a fitted polo shirt, I slow to a crawl. Jared. The beautiful boy I watched grow into a gorgeous man. The guy that was good for me—right for me. I always imagined that if Chris had had his way, he would’ve chosen Jared for me. A part of me thinks my parents always encouraged a potential relationship. They never bickered about me staying out late with him. They constantly asked about him. And whenever there were family functions, Chris and Donna always made sure that Jared was in attendance.

In a different place and time, Jared would have been my soul mate. Maybe he is even now. But looking at him—so carefree and excited to embark on his new journey—I see why Dorian did what he did. How could I ever think Jared would be happy with me, complacent in a life that wasn’t designed for him? Cursed to live among monsters and murderers? He’s too good for me—he always has been. And as much as I want to be selfish and keep him for the rest of his days, I can’t. I can’t take away his life like that. I love him too much.

“Jared?”

He turns around, light russet hair falling into his eyes. He brushes it away and gives me a friendly smile. “Yes?”

“It’s me. Gabs.”

A small frown pinches his forehead and he rubs the back of his neck. It’s a nervous gesture. Of course, I know his body language like my own. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

That bloody knot hits my throat with a vengeance, generating a gasp to slip between trembling lips. I can’t help the tears that automatically rim my eyes. Shit. I cannot cry right now. Why does it feel like I’m always fucking crying lately?

“You do. You did.” I swallow, praying for strength to make it through my next words. “You’re my best friend. And you used to be…”

God. I can’t do this. I’m just torturing myself. Jared doesn’t know me anymore. I’m just some crazy, braless girl in ripped jeans accosting him in the airport. And even with every reason to walk away and escape the awkwardness, he’s still smiling down at me, giving me his attention. Because he is just that damn good.

“Yes?” I can see the confusion on his face as he tries to look for signs of recognition.

“You used to be more. We used to be…together.”

He laughs, not to be condescending, but more to break the ice. “I don’t think so. I’d definitely remember a pretty girl like you.”

“Final boarding for all passengers on flight 2306 to South Bend, Indianapolis. Please make your way to gate B3 immediately,” says a crackly voice over the airport’s intercom. Jared looks toward his gate before shrugging.

“Well, I better get going before the plane takes off without me. It was good meeting you…Gabs, right?” He extends his hand, and it takes everything within me not to grab it and drag him out of this airport, kicking and screaming.

“Yeah. Gabs. Good luck, Jared. You’ll do great at Notre Dame. I know you will.” The second I put my hand in his, a surge of energy passes through my body and transfers to his. Like a little jolt of electricity. He pulls back with a wince and stuffs his hand in his pocket.

“How did you know…? Sorry, never mind,” he mumbles, a soft blush warming his face. “See ya around, Gabs.”

I watch my best friend—my rock—turn around and walk into his future. One that is painted with hopes and dreams. With love and happiness. A future without me. When he reaches the flight attendant and hands her his boarding pass, I force myself to walk away, tears streaming down my cheeks. I’m letting him go for good. I’m setting him free.

I make it a few yards before I see Dorian, standing against a wall, so still and expressionless that human eyes would have mistaken him for a marble statue. When my gaze meets his, he grimaces, feeling the full-brunt of my pain. He holds his hand out, offering me solace and comfort, and as much as I want to take it—as much as I want to fall into his arms and cry—I shake my head and keep walking.

He can’t fix this. He caused this. We all did. Maybe me more than anyone else.

“ALL THE ARRANGEMENTS have been made for our trip down south. We leave tonight, so tie up any loose ends you may have. However, it’s best that you tell no one of our departure, friends and family included.”

A weary Niko looks at all of us stationed around the living room, pinning us with a dusky blue gaze. His eyes aren’t as bright, and dark circles surround them. He’s trying hard to maintain the façade of immaculate beauty and control, but the mask keeps slipping. He’s used a lot within the past few days, and he needs to rest and replenish. The question is when…and with whom.

“Listen to me,” he says, his dark stare darting between Morgan and me. “You can’t trust anyone. Even people you’ve known your entire life. We don’t know who has been compromised.”

“Wait a minute…what does this have to do with me?” Morgan scoffs.

Niko raises a mocking brow. “You’re coming with us. It has everything to do with you.”

“What? I didn’t sign on to go anywhere. Especially not with Harry Pothead and the Hogwarts gang. Oh hell no. I’m staying here.”

I see Niko flinch for a fraction of a second before his face falls into an impassive guise. “Suit yourself. But considering that you’re completely defenseless and your sight has caused you so much turmoil that you tried to dig your veins out with a steak knife, I give you all of 24 hours before someone comes a-knocking and kills you, or you attempt to do the deed yourself.” Before her very eyes, he flashes in front of her on the couch, leaving a trail of charcoal grey smoke. He’s so close to her face—nearly nose to nose—that I can hardly make out the terror in her eyes. “But Morgan, do us all a favor and get it right this time, love. Because if we have to come back here—if you cause just one more ounce of distress—I swear, I will finish you myself. Got it?”

Morgan is stunned speechless—something I’ve rarely witnessed in all the years we’ve been friends. She nods once before scooting to the far end of the couch and wrapping her arms around her knees. Niko stands casually from his squatting position and retakes the floor. I open my mouth to chastise him, but Dorian beats me to it with a single mumbled word. It’s not English or even the Dark tongue. It sounds Greek, and whatever he said sounds like a reprimand.

Niko shrugs it off and looks back at Morgan and me. “Well now that’s settled…get packing. And find something to do with that little rodent you call a dog. It’s not coming with us.”

I cast a glance across the room to Dorian, whose usual cool expression is marked with a hint of dejection. The moment his cold eyes touch mine, they soften and warm, inviting me to walk the ten steps into his arms. It would be so easy to let him in, to let him erase all the hurt. But then what? Will I be accepting him in an act of forgiveness? Or just covering the gaping, festering wound with a band-aid?

I turn around and retreat to my bedroom before it gets too hard to deny my heart and body any more. Just as I pass the threshold and close the door, a blur of movement catches my eye, and Niko manifests on my chaise stationed in the corner of the room. Legs crossed at the ankles and hands folded behind his head, he leisurely lounges as if he didn’t just trespass into my private space.

“Nice of you to knock,” I mumble, stalking to my closet to retrieve my suitcase.

“Well, someone is just a ray of golden sunshine,” he replies, a playful smirk on his lips. He turns his head just as I wrestle my bag from the endless pit of my walk-in closet, and his expression changes to something more solemn. “Thought you’d like to know that Chris is safe. His job is transferring him to Hawaii. Warm climate, lots of sun. It’ll be like a permanent vacay.”

I swallow down the knot that instantly forms in my throat just at the mention of my adopted father. “And he’ll be safe?”

Niko tips his head. “Along with having no memory of you, he no longer has a trace of your scent. To the Dark, all humans look the same. They’re like cattle—we can’t distinguish one from the other unless they are marked or have a trace of magic. Chris has neither. Someone could scan his memory and they would find nothing.”

I nod, despite my true feelings, and busy myself with the task of stuffing clothing into my suitcase. “Good.”

“I heard your human boy toy got the same treatment.”

Anger flares behind my eyes, tingling with frostbite. My neck twists so quickly that my body contorts unnaturally before catching up with the movement. Niko visibly flinches before a slow, sinister smile slithers across his lips.

“Aren’t you a vicious, little creature. I thought this was what you wanted, Gabs. For your loved ones to be safe.”

I close my eyes, taking a beat to bite back my temper. “It is what I want. But you don’t have to take such joy in it. You’re acting as if this is fun for you. Hell, look how you just treated Morgan, after all she’s been through.”

“Morgan is naïve and spoiled, and needs a hefty dose of tough love if she has any chance of survival. She doesn’t have a year to adapt like you did. So the quicker she gets that this is her life now, the better off she’ll be. So yeah…if I have to play the villain just to wake her ass up to reality, I’ll do that. Better to hurt her feelings now, than cause her more unbearable pain later.”

I give up on trying to pack and sink down to the floor, rubbing my temples. “I know, Niko. And I’m grateful for all your help. It’s just…I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve got all these questions—all these feelings. And these thoughts…thoughts I’ve never had before.”

“What kinds of thoughts?”

Violence. Rage. Murder. Sex.

I shake the voice from my head. “Do you remember your ascension? Did it…change you?”

Niko sits up in a flash of motion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you find yourself thinking about things you didn’t think about before? Or wanting things you knew were bad?”

A soft smile twitches the corner of his mouth. “Ah, yes. The Dark elements are stronger than you anticipated. It’s normal, seeing as you are in the present company of so many of us. You absorb our essence—we feed off each other. You’ll find it may be the same when in the present of Light.”

His words spark my remembrance and I sit up on my knees, excitement running through me. “I saw a Light Enchanter today at the airport. She helped me get to Jared. Do you think she knew who or what I am?”

Niko narrows his eyes and purses his lips, natural distaste for his brother race souring his tongue. “Doubtful. If we can’t detect you, I highly doubt their senses are superior. What did she say to you?”

“Nothing,” I shrug. “I mean, she gave me a boarding pass to get to Jared, saying something about not letting love get away, but nothing that would allude to what she is. I tried to go back to talk to her, but she was gone. And an airline attendant said that no one worked there matching her description or name. If I hadn’t seen the flash of Light in her eyes, I wouldn’t have known.”

Niko scoots to the edge of his seat and steeples his fingers in front of his chin. “She let you see her? She wasn’t deflecting?”

“I don’t know. I mean…I can see everyone, even when they are. Even you.”

The blood drains from his handsome face and he sits back in the chaise. “I see.”

“I would never use it against you, I swear,” I hurriedly explain, watching the distrust seep into his eyes. “It’s not exactly something I can control. You guys can’t sense me, but I can always sense you—even when I don’t want to. It’s like my Dark and Light sides are cancelling each other out.”

He sucks his teeth and draws in a breath. “So it seems. Have you told Dorian?”

A pinch of pain seizes my chest, and I turn away from his penetrating stare. “No.”

“Not speaking to him?”

“Why the hell should I?” I resume the task of shoving clothing into my bag, and nearly rip my favorite jeans in two with the force of my irritation.

“Um, I think the question is, why the hell aren’t you on your knees, giving him the BJ of his life right now? You’re acting like a child, Gabs. You know he did what he had to do, and if he would’ve told you beforehand, you would’ve never let him go through with it. Then we’d be housing another stray. You should be thanking him, not bitching out over some human kid that never even rounded third base. Get over it.”

I scoff at his words, jumping to my feet in one swift movement. “Get over it? What would you know about what I’m going through? You’ve had everything you’ve ever wanted and more—you’re a fucking prince, for crying out loud! You’ve probably never felt true pain a day in your life. So don’t you dare tell me to get over it!”

“Pain? What the fuck do you know about pain?” Niko is on his feet too, towering over me, his dominating frame tense. Although he’s a couple inches shorter than Dorian, his body is still encased in hard muscle, and his sinister good looks alone would intimidate even the most confident man. Still, I refuse to back down.

“Obviously more than you! Because if you could feel just a fraction of what I’m going through, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But obviously, you’re oblivious to other people’s hurt.”

He snorts, baring his teeth, which look like gleaming, razor-sharp fangs under the light of the setting sun. And while his expression is all malice and fury, his voice is bone-chilling cold, so much so that his breath forms tiny icicles across my cheeks as it fans over my face in ragged pants. “Try killing the woman you love after she saved your life. Try living with her blood on your hands, unable to wash away the stain of her death. Try doing just about everything outside of carving your own fucking heart out just to feel something—anything—again. Deal with that shit, then come talk to me.”

His words freeze me where I stand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He takes a step back, scrubbing a hand over his face. That’s when I notice how weary he looks—less pretty.

I take a few beats to absorb his words before I snap my mouth shut, touching my fingers to my lips in an act of regret. “What happened?” I whisper against my fingertips. Niko shakes his head, refusing to meet my eyes. I take a step forward and tentatively rest my hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Talk to me, Niko.”

He sighs, the muscles in his arms and neck drawing tight with anxiety. “It was a long time ago in New Orleans. She was the daughter of a drunk with a touch of Voodoo in her bloodline. The bloodline—Laveau. Her name was Amelie. She intruded into my life in the most unexpected way and changed everything. Changed the very man I was.”

“And you loved her?”

He smiles softly, conjuring the memory of his fallen love. “Not at first. I wanted to hate her—hate what she was and what she stood for—but I couldn’t. And then there was the connection we had…she had been influenced by the Light, her dreams cursed with images of me. Something in the universe wanted us together, just to tear us apart.”

“The Light cursed you? But why?”

He shakes his head, his jaw ticking with frustration. “I don’t know. I can’t understand it. She was the purest, kindest, most loving soul I had ever met. She was good. Way too good for the likes of me. I just keep thinking, if I hadn’t corrupted her…if she hadn’t fallen for me, given me her innocence, she would have been spared. She died for me. And because of me.” Niko’s pain saturates the air, and I don’t even try to fight the urge to wrap my arms around him. He accepts me freely, holding me against his chest and resting his chin in my hair. “She was trying to save me. I was dying, and this sweet, beautiful girl gave her life for mine. I’ve never forgiven myself for killing my one shot at happiness. And I never will.”

I bury my face in his shirt, my heart breaking at the sound of starved hopelessness in his voice. He smells of a honeysuckle-scented, summer breeze, rainwater and man. All man. Before I even know what I’m doing, I suck in a gulp of air, taking in his smell along with his essence. He hisses at the feeling of me drawing from his life force, yet holds me tighter. Tight enough that I can feel him stiffening against my stomach.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” I stammer. I should pull away, but I don’t want to embarrass him. Especially since his current predicament is my fault.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, the melancholy in his voice replaced with husky seduction. I feel him rub his nose at the crown of my head before inhaling, taking a hit of my power. I shudder in his arms and squeeze the coiled muscles at his shoulders, feeling them loosen and relax as euphoria fills his lungs.

Before I can urge him to do it again, to take more of me to sustain himself, he’s unwinding his arms from around my waist and taking a step back. He doesn’t look at me, and I don’t look at him.

“Talk to Dorian,” he finally says after a long beat. “He loves you, Gabriella.” And then he’s gone, dissipating before my eyes like most of the men in my life.

I SHOULD HAVE known that we wouldn’t be catching a commercial flight to Louisiana. Oh, no. That would be too pedestrian for the Skotos brothers.

My first reaction as I step onto the Airbus A318 Elite? Holy-freakin’-shit.

It wasn’t that it was a private jet—something I never dreamed of riding in. It was the private jet. Like a regular jet’s hotter, less attainable sister. Everything from the plush navy and cream furnishings to the fresh calla lilies situated throughout the softly-lit cabin screamed opulence. It was like sex on wings. Suddenly me and my Samsonite felt extremely out of place.

Dorian and I hadn’t spoken yet, but I could feel his eyes on me. When I had finally emerged from my bedroom, dressed for the trip in skinny black jeans, a fitted flannel shirt and boots, I knew he was hoping I would take Niko’s advice and let him in again. I didn’t. I loved him and I knew he loved me, but that didn’t change the hurt I felt at yet another betrayal. At some point, the small things become big things. And the big things become deal breakers. This wasn’t a deal breaker, but it definitely warranted a reaction.

I sit on one of the tan couches and slip off my boots, folding my socked feet under me. After a few restless nights, the cushions feel sumptuous and I settle in, propping a pillow behind my lower back. Dorian sits a few yards down at a table, where both Niko and Alex are huddling guardedly. A beautiful red-haired attendant instantly appears with a tray of drinks, beaming at the three gorgeous men.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Skotos,” she coos, her voice melodic and silky. Her tight, blue, wrap dress accentuates every ample curve of her hips and shows off a generous helping of cleavage. Her pale skin is so fair and delicate that I can nearly see the blue veins in her slender neck. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was Dark. But her scent is so potent, amplified by her arousal, that I know she is nothing but merely human.

“Damn. What is it with these guys? Does everything around them need to be so ridiculously beautiful?” Morgan mutters, settling beside me on the couch. She flips through an Elle magazine, stopping on an article about erotic romance books and the sexy authors who write them.

“What do you mean?” I ask, plucking up a magazine of my own, trying to ignore the scene just a few feet away. Niko is introducing Dorian and Alex, and the smell of the attendant’s excitement is nearly nauseating. Ugh.

“Well…look at them. They all look like GQ models. They drive the best cars, wear the nicest clothes—shit, we’re in a private plane for crying out loud! Imagine what their women are like. I mean, is anything just ordinary with them?”

I look down at my plain jeans and red-checkered button up. My boobs aren’t huge, my belly is soft yet flat, and I have more ass than what is deemed desirable by most fashion magazines. “Well…I’m ordinary,” I shrug, feeling the sting of that realization.

“Oh, honey,” Morgan says, reaching across to squeeze my hand. “You’re more than ordinary. You’re extraordinary. I just mean…they must have been surrounded by gorgeous women their entire lives. They’ve probably each had their fair share of models, actresses, pop stars. And the women like them? We’d probably look like ogres next to them.”

I shoot her pointed look, refusing the urge to roll my eyes. “Um, Morgan, you do realize that Aurora is one of them, right?”

Morgan smacks her palm to her forehead, realizing her flub. “Duh. I knew that. Well…double damn. Could you imagine if she and Dorian had actually gotten married and had babies? Holy shit, they’d be like the cutest kids on the planet. And I hate kids.” As soon as the words leave her lips, she claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, Gabs. I keep saying the wrong thing. You know I didn’t mean that. Of course, you and Dorian’s babies will be even more gorgeous. And I’ll actually like them.”

I divert my attention down to my magazine, praying that she doesn’t notice the hurt crossing my face. “It’s ok. And completely unnecessary of you to say. I’ll never have kids with Dorian.”

“Huh? Why not?” Morgan sounds genuinely perplexed.

Before I’m forced into the diatribe of the curse that left me barren, unable to ever give Dorian an heir, the flight attendant walks over to us, her smile still bright yet slightly dimmed from the loss of male company.

“Hello, I’m Lynda with a Y and I’ll be serving you this evening. Is there anything I can get you? We have a fully stocked bar and onboard kitchenette. If you want it, I’m sure we can provide.”

I’m glancing over at the guys, huddled around glasses of premium scotch and talking quietly in a language I don’t understand, when I hear Morgan speak up. “Nice to meet you, Lynda with a Y. Bring us your best bottle of champagne, caviar, some jumbo shrimp cocktail and two of the most tender filet mignon you’ve got. That should be a good start.”

Stunned, Lynda with a Y nods and scurries to the back to fulfill our ridiculous order. I cast an amused glance at Morgan who has already resumed flipping through the pages of Elle, completely unfazed. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” she smiles. “Besides, I’m starved. Don’t you immortals ever eat? Shit. Can a bitch get a sandwich or something?”

I can’t even help but laugh. My girl is back. Although she nearly had a full-on meltdown when we had to drop Dolce at her parents’ house—feeding them a story about a beauty convention on the east coast—she was handling our temporary relocation like a champ. I was more than proud of her. I was in awe.

Without an announcement over the loud speaker, the plane begins to taxi the runway minutes later. I turn to gaze out the window as we take off, watching as the glittering city lights grow fainter and fainter before they disappear completely, eclipsed by heavy clouds and the majestic Rockies.

I don’t shed a tear as I say goodbye to Colorado Springs. Even if I could return, I have nothing else left to come back to.

WE LAND AT the small private airport at nearly three a.m. eastern time to a single dark limo on the otherwise empty tarmac. There doesn’t even seem to be any other signs of life inside the terminal. A weary Morgan and I slide into the massive vehicle, sinking into leather bench seats at the far end of the backseat. After a couple bottles of champagne, and more food than we could ever finish, we’re both beat. The guys acted as if we didn’t even exist, and the less mature side of me really, really wished they would have.

After stowing our luggage, Dorian, Niko and Alex slide into the car and sit across from us, too quiet and somber for my comfort.

“It’s a long ride to the house. You two should get some rest,” Niko mutters, firmly shutting the door. The glass is thicker than any I have ever seen. Darker somehow.

“Why did we fly into an airport in the middle of nowhere?” Morgan questions as the car begins to move. Come to think of it, I don’t even remember seeing a driver.

“Safer,” Niko replies. “Too many eyes in the city. Relax. We’ll be there in a few hours.”

I chance a glance at Dorian sitting directly across from me, and am instantly hypnotized by his penetrating gaze. It calls out to me, telling me to stop fighting. Begging me to just let go and let him in. It would be so much better, so much easier. There’d be no pain or suffering. Just passion, love, tenderness, all wrapped in sweet agony…

Dammit.

I narrow my eyes at him as realization sets in. He got into my head, and I let him. Maybe I really am tired. Or just tired of fighting.

You are.

Before I can mentally chastise that pesky little voice in my head, Dorian manifests beside me, wrapping his arms around my frame. I open my mouth to protest, but he presses a finger against my lips, causing all words and thoughts to blow away in the humid, southern wind.

“Shhhh,” he whispers. “Not now. Just rest.” And with that, he cradles me into his arms, pressing my head against his chest. The moment my lungs are filled with his intoxicating scent and the lulling rhythm of his beating heart, sleeps overcomes me and I slip into the dark expanse of a dream…

Flickering candles surround me, providing the only light in the dark room. I’m lying on a massive, four-poster bed of gold and black, much like the one at the Broadmoor. Yet there is no room, no walls to contain us. Just endless darkness.

I feel his essence crawl over my naked skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. I gasp at the initial burn, then moan when it grows cold and soothing, as if he’s blowing on my heated flesh with icy-cool breath.

“Please,” I whine. “Touch me.”

He says nothing. Just continues to let those invisible hands touch me all over. He stays in the shadows, refusing to let me see him, but I can almost imagine that sinister smile and the intensity in those aqua eyes. He’s probably biting his full, bottom lip as he concentrates on barely grazing each erogenous zone. He doesn’t give me too much, just enough to drive me wild.

I thrash on the bed, fisting the comforter, but I am bound by invisible restraints. I want more—so much more. So much that it aches me. I search for him in the dark, but he still won’t step into view.

“Please,” I beg. “It hurts. It hurts all over.”

Answering my anguished plea, the sensation intensifies, setting the surface of my skin on fire. I cry out as every nerve ending in my body evolves into its own entity, exploding with its own thoughts and feelings and desires. They all weep in endless ecstasy, writhing in pleasure and pain. My body contorts and arches off the bed, control completely relinquished from my limbs. I couldn’t stop it if I tried.

I can make it hurt, he whispers in my head. That’s what you wanted, right?

“Yes!” I scream, pressing the red button of my own self-destruction. I want this—I need this. The Dark in me must be fed.

A million, icy pinpricks pierce the surface of my skin, digging into me, infecting me with erotic bliss. I come apart so violently that the bed begins to shake and candle flames begin to shimmy in a hedonistic dance. The prickles centralize, becoming concentrated, and move to my breasts. They attack my nipples with such ferocity that another wave of climax overwhelms me, pulling me deeper down into obscurity. There are stars behind my eyes, and I know that any moment I may lose consciousness.

The prickles ease, becoming more of a soothing balm to my swollen breasts. Head lolled to one side in exhaustion, I moan at the feeling of a soft, imaginary tongue licking its way down to my belly button. It stops there, dipping into the tiny hollow before tracing the line from one hipbone to the other. It’s gentle, tender, and while it doesn’t tempt my more carnal cravings, it’s exactly what I need.

The wetness of his invisible tongue leaves a trail of coolness on my humid skin, lapping up beads of sweat. It touches the tops of my thighs and I shudder with anticipation. My knees slowly part, and the sensation moves with them, laving the soft, sensitive skin between my legs.

I feel him there, his breath fanning over my sex, chilling the stifling heat. He doesn’t move for several minutes as if he’s just staring at it—at me. Admiring the wet mess he’s made and contemplating how to destroy me once more.

The moment the tip of him brushes my entrance, I sob. I’m so sensitive, and his touch is so amazingly arousing. He delves into me deeper, tasting my softness in slow, lazy strokes. I feel him vibrate with a moan as he licks me from the top of my sex all the way down to that hidden place below. It all feels good—too good. I know that any second could mean sudden death. And I want it. Oh God, how I want to die a thousand deaths with his head between my thighs.

I feel his tongue grow thicker, wetter. Hell, I swear it’s covering my swollen mound completely. He’s sucking me, licking me urgently and so deeply that I don’t even have time to comprehend the shift in his oral assault. I can’t catch my breath; I’m choking on my screams. Satin disintegrates in my palms as I shred handfuls of the comforter. He dips inside me, and a hum erupts in his throat as he savors my taste. He’s drinking me, sucking out my orgasm with tongue and teeth and lips so soft and full in their perfection, they should be patented. And all I can do is scream as he eats me alive. Scream until my throat is sore and my voice is hoarse, as I break again and again in delicious agony.

He laps up every drop of me, through multiple waves of orgasm that drift into trickling aftershocks. My body jerks and trembles as it settles into passion-induced fatigue. He crawls up my body, kissing me still, murmuring his praise against my skin.

That’s a good girl.

Shhh, it’s ok, baby.

You taste so good.

When I feel the silken strands of his hair against my nipples, I know he has come back to me. He gives each nipple a soft kiss before lifting his head, the longer layers of his jet-black hair falling into those smoldering, ice blue eyes. One side of his mouth crooks into a satisfied grin, pleased at how thoroughly he’s shattered my body. When he speaks, I nearly quake at the sound of his voice, causing a low, feral hiss to escape between my teeth.

“You’re a vicious little creature, aren’t you, baby girl?”

I AWAKE TO sunlight, warmth and the smoothest bare chest in the world. The only chest I’ll ever need to feel from now until eternity.

We’re on a bed of fluffy pillows and down comforters. The walls are bare, aside from vividly colored oil paintings that look hauntingly familiar. Outside of that splash of color, everything is white—the linens, the rug, the drapes. And there are three large picture windows, welcoming bright sunlight to fill the room.

“Where are we?” I whisper, not ready to give up the comfort of Dorian’s arms just yet. I breathe in his scent, committing it to memory. Forcing my mind to erase all remembrance of anyone or anything else.

He gently rakes his fingers through my matted hair. “Niko’s house. I chose the white room for us. I sometimes forget that you are not like us—you need light just as much as you need darkness.”

I swallow, my tongue suddenly feeling too thick. “How did I get here?”

“I carried you.”

I close my eyes and snuggle in closer to him, inhaling his fresh, clean scent once more. Silence stretches between us, and I let it. I don’t know what to say…what to feel. I had just been dreaming of his brother. And not just any dream at that. An earth-shattering, orgasmic dream that still had my legs trembling and the inside of my thighs dripping with lust.

I don’t get it. There is nothing sexual between Niko and me. Sure, I think he’s gorgeous and charming and honest in a way that I can accept. I won’t deny we have a connection on the magical front as well. But whatever that connection is, it’s solely platonic. He’s Dorian’s brother and a manwhore to his core. There’s nothing he could give me that Dorian already hasn’t.

Fucking Dark elements.

It’s bad enough that I have Stavros trying to worm his way into my secret fantasies whenever he wants to rattle my cage a bit. Now Niko? There’s no way he would do this to me. He’s always made it crystal clear that I belong with Dorian and that he has no interest in the complications of a romantic relationship, especially with me. We’re friends, sometimes even closer. It’s like our souls recognize something in each other. Like in a past life, they shared a common bond. A common love… or loss.

I sigh, exasperated with trying to sift through all the inner workings of my subconscious. I turn over and give my attention to Dorian, the man I love. The man who loves me, even though he sometimes has a shitty way of showing it.

“I’m tired of fighting,” I say, resigning all thoughts of Niko and focusing on the real dilemma.

He smiles crookedly, engrossing himself in twirling a lock of my hair around his finger. “I wasn’t aware we were fighting.”

“Well, I’m tired of being pissed off at you. You know that you hurt me. And I know that me shutting you out hurts you. Let’s stop hurting one another, ok?”

He kisses the crown of my head and squeezes me tighter to his body. “Ok. But Gabriella?”

“Yes?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

I ROAM THE halls of Niko’s vast mansion, eyes wide with wonder. It’s beautiful. Breathtaking, really. The famous works of great artists adorn the walls, things that should only be housed in museum exhibits encased in protective glass. There are sculptures and elaborately dressed vases in every corner, adding pops of color and life. I’m in awe of all the beauty I’m immersed in, so much so that I feel out of place. I can’t imagine why Niko would ever abandon such an incredible home.

I wipe away a tear when I come across a particularly striking piece featuring a mother and a child. Donna would have loved this house. She would have traipsed through these halls and fussed over every exotic flower and antique trinket. I couldn’t imagine her ever wanting to leave. I smile, despite my tears and the pain tightening my chest. If it weren’t for her, I never would have been able to appreciate beauty like this. I wouldn’t even know how to recognize it.

“Enjoying yourself?” Dorian smiles as I make my way into the equally stunning kitchen. The back wall is made entirely of glass, letting bright light filter into the already brilliantly-lit space.

“This place is unbelievable. I wouldn’t expect your brother to have a house like this,” I reply, sliding into a seat at the marble counter.

Dorian is at the stove, whipping up something that smells so amazing that my stomach rumbles in response. “A place like what?” he asks, chopping fresh herbs to add to a bowl of crispy roasted potatoes. Where the hell did all this food come from?

“This…beautiful and elegant. I totally expected something more like a frat house or a sleek, modern bachelor pad filled with wall-to-wall gadgets and games. Hell, I’ve been looking for the stripper pole.”

Dorian smirks and continues to prepare the food, squeezing fresh lemon over the potatoes before whisking a large bowl of eggs. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? We were both raised to have a deep appreciation for the arts. And I think the Greek Revival architecture found down here remind him of home. Nikolai is much more traditional than one would expect. It’s understandable that you would expect something more…deviant.”

My face flames and I drop my gaze, studying the road map of lines etched into the marble counter. “Dorian, about this morning…”

I lift my gaze just as he holds up a hand and shakes his head. “No explanation necessary. You can’t control your dreams, I know that. You and Niko are friends. It’s normal to think about people you care about on a subconscious level.”

I stare at him, stunned. I totally expected a different, more rage-filled reaction. “Really?”

“Really,” he nods. “We’ve agreed to stop hurting each other, and I want to try to overcome these unconventional feelings of…doubt and jealousy.” He grimaces as if even admitting it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to feed my girl a meal.”

I watch my beautiful prince as he moves gracefully throughout the kitchen. “Your girl?” I giggle. Something so mundane and ordinary seems comical coming from Dorian.

“I’m trying to keep up with the times. Wouldn’t want you to feel as if you were with an ancient artifact,” he jibes, turning to wink at me.

When he finishes cooking, he serves me a heaping plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, crispy potatoes and buttered rye bread. “What about everyone else?” I ask, wondering how the hell he expects the two of us to eat all this.

“Morgan is asleep, Alex is in the library, and Niko went into the city. It’s just us for now.”

Just us. God, that sounds good.

Dorian makes good on his word and spoon-feeds me nearly every bite. And when we’ve polished off our brunch, he brings over a bowl of fresh fruit and cream.

“I’m going to be big as a house with you, you know that right?” I say before he slides a cream-tipped strawberry between my lips.

“Even if that were possible, I wouldn’t care. I like feeding you. I like taking care of you. It’s one of the things I missed the most when we were apart.” He puts the remaining bit of strawberry in his mouth and bites, juice dribbling from his lips. I catch the nectar with a finger and suck it off slowly, as he watches intently with hooded eyes.

“Even if that were possible?” I ask, grabbing a slice of melon and offering it to him. Dorian sucks it from my fingertips, letting his tongue slide over my extended digits.

“Your body will remain as it is. You’ll be free from change, disease, old age. Using magic will exhaust your human form, however you can replenish it with the elements. Or…” He turns his head, but not before I see the regret in his eyes.

“Or?” I ask, urging him to continue.

With a huff of resignation, Dorian looks at me. “Breathing another will satisfy small needs. But killing…it’s like nourishment to us. When we take a soul, we take their magic. It’s like a Thanksgiving meal in comparison to a snack. And once you do it—once you end a life by taking it inside of you—it’s hard to stop wanting that feeling again. That sensation of sheer bliss filling you, sustaining you.”

“Which is why we should hope she never has to face that,” a dangerously deep voice says from the entrance of the kitchen.

Alexander strides into the room, hard, cold eyes fixed on Dorian, silently admonishing. “Troubling Gabriella with tales of addiction are hardly appropriate for such a young soul. We should be teaching her to control her powers, not giving her one more thing to worry about.”

I open and close my hands in front of me. “Well…teach me. There’s so much I need to learn. I don’t want to kill anyone, but I need to protect myself and my loved ones.”

“I know,” Alex remarks, sliding an ancient, leather-bound book in front of me. “But before we get to that, you must learn what you’re dealing with.”

I gently touch the worn, brown cover and it sizzles under my fingertips. “What is it?” I ask, drawing my hand back. “And why is it trying to burn me?”

“It chronicles the history of all the royal Dark houses, listing their special gifts and functions in the monarchy. Since it is bound by Dark magic and you are half Light, there may be an unpleasant effect when you touch it.”

I slowly press a finger to the cover once more, absorbing the sting. He’s right—it’s uncomfortable. But I refuse to be beat by a damn book. I cringe, but holdfast, sliding my hand across the leather. If there’s valuable information in this that will help us—help me—defeat the Dark, then a little burn isn’t going to stop me.

I scan the thin, yellowed pages, hungry for knowledge, soaking in as much as my mind can process. Alex and Dorian watch me intently, still as statues. Maybe they’re afraid I’ll stumble across something that’ll have me running and screaming for the hills. Or maybe they’re worried about me finding out the truth about how deep their depravity goes.

“So the Algea are known to invoke feelings of extreme pain, sorrow and grief?” I ask, not bothering to look up from the text.

“Yes,” Alex answers. “They can manipulate the darkness of mourning, bringing tremendous suffering to both the mind and body.”

“Their prey would be so grief-stricken that they would drown in their tears. Literally choking to death on their sorrow,” Dorian adds, a solemn inflection in his voice.

I look up at the both of them, a perplexed frown lining my forehead. “But they weren’t always that way, right? Their lineage was created after the Dark were corrupted. Like all of you.”

Dorian nods. “Correct. When we lost the Divine’s favor, all of the Dark were stripped of their righteous names and cast away. The royals fled to what is now known as Greece, and then created eight castes. From those families, a new order was formed, spawning a darker, evil type of magic.”

“In that time, Greece was nearly overrun by the Dark, marking what human textbooks have deemed the Dark Ages. But as your history has indicated, there were centuries of war, causing the decline of the Greek Empire,” Alex adds.

“The Light and the Dark?” I ask, fascination shining in my eyes.

“Yes,” he replies. “The Divine powers have been enlisting humans to fight their wars for many, many years in order to create a diversion. The Light fought long and hard to restore order to this world, and many souls—mortal and immortal—were lost.”

“But wait—the Roman Empire won, right?” I ask, trying to recall my high school history lesson. Geez, I should’ve paid more attention.

“Right,” Alex replies. “Although, the Light may have been able to take back most of Greece and save the land and its people from further destruction, the eight families moved underground, gaining numbers, and dabbling in magic that was forbidden in this world and beyond. Their corruption whispered in the ears of man, urging them to explore their illicit wants and desires. See, this was the Dark’s plan all along. Not to win and overtake the Light and all their power. But to stalk in the shadows, and contaminate the humans, influencing them to do their dirty work for them.”

I take a beat to take it all in. Wow. What other monumental events in history were works of the Divine powers? What other lies have humans been told, only to be pawns in a much bigger chess game?

Head spinning with questions, and hungry for so much more, I look back down at the book, reading the pages dedicated to the house of Apatē, rulers of lies and deceit. They were known for playing mind tricks, creating harmful illusions for their victims until they went mad. I shiver, imaging how it must feel to not have control over your mind. To be completely at the mercy of such deep-rooted evil.

By the time I get to Mīsos, who spread the Dark seed of hatred, realization finally clicks into place. “Holy shit…the humans were infected with Dark magic. What if…what if history is repeating itself? What if someone is trying to create a diversion that will work to cause mass hysteria, only so they can move into a new territory?”

Dorian narrows his eyes, tipping his head to one side. “It’s absolutely possible, but nothing like this has happened in many centuries. The Dark like to remain a mystery, forever hidden in the shadows. And why would they be coming after us?”

I shake my head. “Not us. Me. I was meant to restore the balance between the Light and the Dark. This plan was in motion long before I ascended. And now…now I’m just in the way.”

“I think you’re on to something, Gabriella,” Alex says gravely. “With you, Stavros could quickly demolish the opposition, using your power to weaponize humans. Without you, he would meet too much resistance, even from his own kind. They may have power and numbers, but they don’t have the Divine.”

“Which is exactly why we have to stop Daddy Dearest before he tries to kill everyone Gabs has ever known,” a smooth voice chimes in from behind us. Niko steps into view looking as dapper and sharply dressed as always. The dark circles under his eyes are completely gone, and his skin is smooth and bright. He must’ve gone into the city to replenish. Remembrance tugs at me, but I bite it down, letting fear override my feral desires.

“He’s trying to break her down, make her beg for his mercy. You’re the Divine’s golden child. Stavros knows he can’t actually kill you directly, so he’s trying to destroy your spirit. He’s betting on you giving up once you don’t have anyone left.”

Kill everyone I’ve ever known?

My friends, what’s left of my family…Oh my God. No one is safe around me. And even if there was a way to protect the people I love, what’s stopping Stavros from going after innocent people to get my attention? Shit, he could demolish an entire city block with a snap of his fingers if he wanted to.

“What do we do?” I whisper, eyes wide with terror.

Niko looks to the other Warlocks around the counter, mirroring their murderous expressions before giving me a stiff nod. “We kill him first.”

I STUDY EACH page of that ancient book until my eyes hurt, hoping to absorb as much as I can in an attempt to stay one step ahead of the enemy. When I have questions about the Oinos, the Dark house of wine, Dorian quirks a brow.

“Stop it and be serious,” I say, smacking his shoulder. “Yeah, I may be a lush, but I’m not killing anyone.”

“Like I said, you’re drawn to certain elements. Oinos is one of them. No, you don’t kill anyone, but think about how you feel when you drink. At first, you feel good. Free. But then a darker emotion settles over you, making you crave violence and rage. Now imagine those feelings in weaker-willed humans. Imagine little voices whispering in their ears, telling them to have one more drink, throw caution to the wind, give in to paranoia. That’s how the Oinos operate. And it’s not just wine. It’s all drugs and alcohol.”

I look over at the glass of wine Dorian poured for me, and push it away. “So that night at that club, Aria, when I allegedly tried to kill some girl, that was all the work of Oinos?”

Dorian shakes his head. “You’ll find that some elements work in conjunction with others. Your fiery temper and violent nature are attributed to Polemos—your bloodline. The house of Polemos were known seekers of war. They took pleasure in carnage and wrath. You’ve been a scrappy little thing your entire life. That’s why.”

He’s right—I have been. My hot temper has always gotten the best of me, resulting in more fights than I can count. Anytime my life felt out of control, I always felt angered to the point of violence. Luckily, Chris saw that demon in me, and got me involved in boxing, helping me to channel my rage before I got into serious trouble. So while I still saw red, I knew to take it out on the heavy bag, not on some prissy slore’s face.

Morgan flits into the kitchen, humming along to a tune blaring from her iPod and successfully distracting me from my tortured stream of consciousness. Dorian leans over to brush a kiss against my forehead, mumbling something about talking with the others and giving us girls some space.

“This place is pretty dope,” she remarks, head fully immersed inside the refrigerator.

I close the book and slide it to the side. Morgan takes the stool beside me and removes her earbuds, holding a bottle of juice and an apple. “Yeah, it is. Guess your “beautiful theory” was pretty spot on.”

She unscrews her bottle of OJ and takes a sip. “Yeah. Beautiful. And creepy. Really creepy.”

“Why do you say that?”

Morgan twirls the orange juice bottle cap between her fingers, spinning it on the countertop. “You know Alex has been working on a way to dull my sight, so I’m not constantly haunted by ghosts. Still…something in this house isn’t right. I feel this restlessness, as if something—or someone—is trying to get my attention.”

I turn towards Morgan, who diverts her eyes to the plastic bottle cap, refusing to meet my questioning gaze. I flick my wrist reflexively, and the bottle cap freezes on its side, completely still as if suspended by invisible strings.

“Whoa! What the hell!” she exclaims, nearly tipping over on her stool. I stretch a hand out to steady her, and end up freezing the seat too, motionlessly balancing on one leg.

“Sorry!” I say, reaching out to grab her before she topples over. Both the bottle cap and the stool fall into place simultaneously.

Morgan shakes her head before a chuckle bubbles up from her chest. “Wow, Gabs…you’re kinda awesome, aren’t you?”

I inhale relief and exhale my fear before shrugging. “I guess. Takes some getting used to at first. But it’s pretty cool, when I can remember to control it.”

Morgan moves forward, fascination sparking her big, brown eyes. “So all this time, you never knew what you were? You seriously never sensed that you were more than human?”

I shrug again, picking up the OJ bottle cap. “I mean, I always felt out of place. Like no matter what I did, I didn’t fit in. I tried to be normal—I honestly tried to be happy with being mediocre. But, I just knew something was missing.”

She nods thoughtfully. “And then you met Dorian.”

I lift my gaze to hers, my eyes squinting with a smile. “And then I met Dorian.”

“Damn. I heard of some encounters that are life changing, but nothing ever quite like this.”

My cheeks flame and I divert my eyes to my hands. “Yeah. He’s pretty special.”

“Pretty special?” Morgan trills. “Homeboy is loaded, fine as all hell, and he adores you, Gabs. I’ve never seen someone so…connected…to another person. It’s like he can feel and see everything through your eyes and acts accordingly. Like he moves his body around yours to protect you from feeling any pain.” She looks towards the wide picture windows that frame lush, green forestry and a small body of water. “Must be nice to feel that way—so loved and cherished. I thought I had something close to that once. Now I doubt I’ll ever feel that again.”

In that moment, I felt like the biggest asshole in the world. I had lost, yet I wasn’t the only one. Morgan was hurting deeply, no matter how good of an actress she was. When I ascended, I stole something from her. Her innocence, her buoyancy. I stole her life. And although it was inadvertently, I can’t help but feel responsible for stripping away any chance at a real future, free of all the supernatural terrors of our world.

I did this. I caused this. Had I not chosen to be forever undecided, I could have spared her.

“I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing what else to offer.

She shakes her head. “Like I said before, Gabs—not your fault. You had no idea this would happen. And I still could have ended up like this. You know, my dad went through the same thing. Maybe it was just always in my blood.”

“It was.”

Tingles claw their way up my spine when I hear his voice. God. It’s wrong—I know it’s wrong—but I can’t help it. And while I may hate myself for feeling this way when he’s in my presence, I have to find out why…Why does he do this to me?

Niko strides into the room, so gracefully that I can’t even really tell if his feet ever touch the ground. The grin on his face is so devilishly alluring that even Morgan has to turn her head to hide her blush.

“What do you mean?” I ask, seeing that Morgan has been stunned speechless by his presence. Niko in his full glory is hard to digest, even for the strongest man-eater. Morgan is no match for his charms, even with him being an asshole to her no less than a day ago.

“It was in her blood,” he replies, stopping to stand across from us. “I did a little digging into Morgan’s family history. We always suspected that her grandmother gave her life to protect her from you, Gabs. But what if that spell wasn’t one of protection? What if there were rumors about you—a prophecy—that trickled down to lower forms of magic? That spoke of a girl that would resurrect peace among Otherworldlings and humans?”

I sit there at a total loss for words, unable to press for more, but thankfully, Niko continues. “I’m inclined to believe that Morgan was not cursed, but chosen. Chosen to stand beside you as an ally, not a casualty.”

“But how do you know that? Why would anyone choose this? To be haunted by ghosts every single damn day? How could that ever help?” Morgan asks, throwing her hands up.

“I don’t know,” Niko replies, shaking his head. “I don’t know what any of this means. But there are things happening—things that have happened in the past—that prove that this prophecy has been in motion for years. Before either one of you were even born.”

“I just don’t get it,” I whisper. “Who would do this to her?”

“We weren’t the only ones counting on your ascension,” he explains. “Other forms of magic—even the unnatural ones—have their own reasons for wanting you to restore peace among the Dark and the Light.”

I look up at Niko curiously. “Is that what you want?”

He holds my gaze for long, tense seconds before looking away. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I learned not to desire things a long time ago.”

There’s that sad inflection again. That hidden sorrow that sometimes rears its ugly head within a single tremble of his voice. I open my mouth to say something to offer comfort, but he quickly nods towards Morgan.

“Morgan, Alex has been working on something to help you sleep. You’ll find him in the study, getting his Harry Pothead on. Scurry off now, love.”

And just like that, Niko is back to bad jokes and brashness. Still, I won’t let him get away with brushing me off again.

“How do you know all this?” I ask, as soon as Morgan is out of earshot.

“I don’t,” he answers, turning for the door.

“Wait. You do know something. In fact, you know a lot more than you want the others to know. Like how you were able to get me to unfreeze Dorian and Alex. Spill it, Skotos. And I don’t want to hear any bullshit about you not knowing what I’m talking about.”

He drops his head and takes a deep, aggravated breath before turning back to stand across from me. “Fine. But you have to swear to keep this between us.” He holds up a hand and sweeps a finger in a circular motion, spelling the room to conceal our voices.

“I promise.”

“I’m serious, Gabs. Telling anyone, especially Dorian, could be dangerous for us all.”

“I swear, I won’t say a thing,” I say, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a girl scout,” he smiles, shaking his head.

“But I could’ve been.”

“No. They would’ve kicked you out. But I will admit, imagining you in that little green getup is pretty damn tempting.”

“Shut up,” I reply, rolling my eyes in jest. “Stop trying to distract me and get on with it. Seriously, Niko, how do you know all this stuff? What you did to me at the Broadmoor didn’t feel like Dark magic. But it felt…dark-dark. Like it was wrong.”

“That’s because it was,” he replies with a sigh. “After…Amelie…I started to search for a reason for her death. Why would I be forced into her life only to kill her? It’s like she knew that would be our fate. It didn’t make sense. I told you she was a Laveau, one of the most powerful Voodoo bloodlines in the world. After much…coaxing…I found someone willing to teach me. I needed to control the evil that took Amelie away from me to ensure that it would never, ever happen again. In secret, I spent years learning their rites and rituals, and even stumbled upon a few of their legends.”

“Voodoo? So like what Morgan’s grandmother was into?”

“No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “Haitian Vodou is different from the Voodoo that’s found within the piss-stained streets of New Orleans. But they all shared a common thread. You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Gabriella. They’ve all been waiting for you. Everyone from the Celtic Wiccans to the Curanderos of Peru to the Mo Phi in Thailand. They had all been waiting for your ascension.”

I choke on my next word, my mouth suddenly bone dry. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “That’s the part that stumps me. That and…”

“And?” Shit. There’s more? What could be more disturbing than learning that you’re part of some crazy-ass prediction that spans across the globe?

Niko looks down at his hands, flexing his knuckles. “Each prophecy depicted you as their own form of savior—the chosen one, the embodiment of both good and evil. And while some details were lost in translation, they all explained that there would be those that would stand with you and fight. A human, birthed from ancient folklore…”

“Morgan!” I trill, sliding to the edge of my stool.

“One birthed from the sun. A daywalker or one that walks in the Light…”

“A Light Enchanter?” I frown, perplexed. “But…but I don’t know anyone from the Light.” My mind flashes to the attendant in the airport—Analiese. But that was back in Colorado Springs, and I didn’t even get to talk to her. Could she somehow play a part in all this?

“I know…I’m not sure how the Light are mixed into this. They’ve been very clear that they want no part as far as you’re concerned. Choosing to rally with you is cause for execution according to their laws. And now that you’re half Dark, I doubt any would willingly come within ten feet of you.”

I can’t help the sting of pain that his words inflict on my fragile ego. Great. An entire race of the Divine’s precious creations is choosing to hate me just for breathing? I haven’t done anything to them, but their kind just can’t seem to stop fucking with me. First they kill my mother. Then Xavier, although completely psychotic, came damn close to bringing me to the same fate just days ago. And the one Light Enchanter that tried to help me, Solara, was murdered trying to protect me.

Fuck the Light. If it hadn’t been for my mother’s memory, I would’ve shunned them altogether, just like they had done to me.

“So that’s it?” I ask, my mood taking a nosedive. “That’s what you can’t figure out? How the Light would ever want anything to do with me?”

“No, Gabs. It’s not that. It’s…”

“Just tell me already!” I snap.

Niko hisses out a breath before leaning forward onto his elbows, leaving only mere inches of space between us. “The prophecy only speaks of two born out of darkness. Two Dark Ones. Not three.”

“What?”

“Do the math, baby girl. There are three of us here. One will not stand with you in battle. Which means he will either betray you, or meet death before that time comes.”

I only have a fraction of a second to digest his words before a shadowed blur catches the corner of my eye. Someone’s here. Niko sees it too, and within my next breath, he dissipates into a billow of grey smoke, leaving me only with his whispered words echoing inside my head.

“Do not speak of this. Ever. No matter what he does to make you submit.”

IT’S LATE WHEN I make it back up to the white room. After picking my jaw up off the floor when Niko disappeared, I resumed studying the book Alexander gave me, forcing my mind to focus on something—anything—else but the prophecy.

Someone in this house would betray me, or die. Both outcomes felt equally morbid. Of course, my mind went straight to Alex since he was the newcomer in the group and I barely knew him. But my heart…my heart couldn’t accept that my blood—my father—would ever go against me. And the thought of him dying? After just getting him back? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Then there was Niko, my friend, my companion. Things had gotten weird between us lately. Not a bad weird necessarily, but ever since I felt his mind that day at the Broadmoor when he opened to me, I felt an odd draw to him. Like we had connected on a cellular level, much like I had done with Dorian. I knew how he felt about me; I knew he would never betray me. Plus why would he share these secrets with me only to stab me in the back?

Still, the fact remained that Niko was Dark, and he admitted to not truly knowing if he wanted his race to join with the Light. He was the less reformed of the group, the less accepting. Maybe his distaste for the Light would override his loyalty to me.

When it came to Dorian, I knew within the very marrow of my bones that he loved me, and he would do anything to protect me. I didn’t have to guess; his heart spoke for him. The link between us was growing stronger every day, and soon I wouldn’t be able to distinguish his feelings from mine. And while it was worrisome—and pretty damn invasive—it really came in handy during times like this when I was faced with so much doubt.

No, Dorian would never willingly betray me, but I knew he would die for me. And that scenario was the scariest of them all.

Our room is empty, and a few dozen flickering candles are the only sign that Dorian has been here recently. I hadn’t seen him all day and was beginning to worry. However, I was grateful that he had given me space to study and think. His mere presence was a distraction, especially when all I really wanted to study was the way his mouth fit over mine. Or the taste of his tongue when he playfully slid it over the seam of my lips. Or the sound he made in the back of his throat when he finally pushed inside me after teasing me to the point of pain.

God, I live for that touch. I die for his kiss. I worship every sigh and groan that rumbles inside his hard chest. Just the sound of his pleasure is enough to make me come.

I shake my head and blink rapidly, realizing that my lustful daydreaming has led me to the bathroom. I’m completely naked, standing before the large vanity mirror and my hand is between my legs, my fingers slipping over my sensitive folds. I gasp, embarrassment painting my face. What is wrong with me? Has ascending made me into some kinda nympho?

I hurriedly jump into the shower, eager to douse my raging hormones with some cold water. I have to get a handle on myself. What kind of savior could I be when I was turning into a bona fide peen fiend?

Unfortunately, the shower does nothing to dissuade my pressing issue, but I am cold enough to keep the fluffy white towel tightly wrapped around my naked body. I scurry from the en suite bathroom to the bedroom in search of my warm pajamas, when my body is plucked from the ground and my back goes crashing into the wall, hard enough that it rattles the colorful canvas pictures on the walls. I’m stunned, confused, disoriented… but all of that is strangled from my throat when I realize exactly what’s happening to me.

I dangle several feet from the ground, my thighs resting on Dorian’s shoulders as his hands cup my ass. He’s holding me up, his face buried at my apex, breathing raggedly as he opens my legs wider. His mouth doesn’t touch me just yet, but I can feel his cool breath, can hear him inhale the scent of my exposed sex. A deep growl erupts from his chest and he nuzzles my flesh with his nose, breathing the most potent part of me. I’m embarrassed, but so fucking turned on. I don’t know if I should beg him to stop or beg him for more.

I grab a handful of his hair and push him away, only to pull him right back again. “Dorian,” I gasp. “What the hell are you—?”

My last words are broken into a moan as I feel his tongue replace his nose. No, not just his tongue. His entire mouth. He’s licking me, sucking me, eating me like a starving man. Like he’s never tasted anything so sweet in his centuries of existence. He groans loud enough to vibrate my sex, sending shockwaves from my clit to my nipples. And he doesn’t stop. He moans like I’m the one sucking him. Like I’m the one painting a masterpiece with my tongue. He’s ravenous, dangerously so. For a second, I fear that he may actually take a bite out of me, and the prospect of carnage only excites me further.

My body jerks and shudders as the first drops of my release fall on his lips. Dorian laps up every bit, catching each drop on his tongue as he moans his delight. We shift, and with my eyes closed in an orgasm-induced haze, I feel like I’m falling. When I try to catch myself, I find that we’re on the bed. Dorian is under me, and I’m straddling his face. He reaches up to rip the towel from me completely before grasping my heavy breasts and guiding my body into a slow, grinding rhythm.

Holy. Shit. He wants me to ride his face.

I find that my body is no longer my own. My hands grip the headboard involuntarily. My hips begin to rock back and forth, causing unbelievable friction against Dorian’s lips and tongue. Even the feel of his stubbled chin grazing my sensitive, wet sex makes me buck and whine. Yet I can’t stop. I can’t keep from doing it again and again, moving faster, grinding down harder. His fingers pinch my nipples, the sting bringing on a new layer of sensation, and I cry out. I mean to beg him to stop, but it comes out as a garbled plea for more. I don’t know if it’s Dorian controlling me, or the Dark within taking the reins, but as I scream his name and fuck his face, I know that without a doubt, this is what I want.

I’m coming again, trembling uncontrollably as I brace myself against the headboard. Then there’s another shift, and Dorian is no longer under me. He’s behind me, guiding my hips to him and spreading my legs, exposing a stream of wetness running down my thighs. He doesn’t say a word, and he doesn’t have to. Not when his body speaks to me with every single tongue in every single language.

The tip of him presses at my entrance so maddeningly slow that I try to push back against him. He won’t let me. He just continues to torture me one inch at a time, refusing to fill me like I beg him to. It’s like he doesn’t even hear me crying for more—like he’s in no hurry at all to put me out of my misery. I may already be dizzy with two, toe-curling orgasms, but I need him inside me. I need him to make me so full that there’s no room for anything else.

He pulls out suddenly, and rubs himself against my puckered hole. I jerk, but he holds me still, continuing to rub his length against my seam. Then he’s back inside me, back to the tight, warmth that yearns for him.

“Dorian,” I moan, grateful to have him where he belongs. “More, please. I need you deeper.”

He doesn’t speak, but he concedes, slamming into me with so much force that I nearly collide with the headboard. He pulls out to the tip and impales me again. And again. And again. Until we flow into a savage rhythm that punishes my body and lays waste to all my sensibilities. He grips my hair, wrapping it around his hand so I can’t get away. When I feel slight pressure at my backside again, I know why.

There’s a prick of pain as his finger penetrates the tight bundle of nerves. Thankfully, he’s slowed his strokes to a lazy roll of his hips so my body can adjust to the forbidden intrusion.

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

He answers my question with a sharp pull of my hair, sending tiny stabs of pain all over my scalp. It lasts just a second before all I can feel is his finger again, and his thick length moving in and out of me slowly.

I moan. No. I whimper. No. I sob.

I don’t know what to feel. It’s different, not exactly comfortable, but it feels…it feels…good. Two parts of me—one all wetness and inviting warmth, the other pain and devious delight—syncing together to create one pulsing mass of white-hot pleasure. It expands, it contracts. It morphs and transforms into something greater than sensation. Greater than me. Something so out of control and boundless that I can no longer contain it. It’s growing, pushing me to submit, stripping me raw as it coils once more before it begins to burst entirely.

I quiver, my arms unable to support my weight, and Dorian wraps me in his arms without breaking his stride. We’re moving together now, pushing and pulling against each other. Chasing the end of all ends. He’s pulsing wildly inside me. Even his finger trembles with the promise of climax. He groans as I reach between my legs and cup him gently, feeling him tense and throb inside the palm of my hand. That’s his undoing. And his undoing spawns mine.

Together we fall apart in a melee of cries and moans, exhausting so much energy from our bodies that every candle in the room is extinguished. We writhe in the dark, lying on our sides, kissing each other with so much desperation that tears fill my eyes and roll down my face. It’s so much…so much that I can’t even comprehend this feeling. I just know that I never want it to end. I’d rather die in this moment than let it go.

Dorian kisses my hair before pulling my body as close as possible and tucking me under his arm. He still doesn’t speak, but I still feel the words in his touch, even if he doesn’t want me to. I cry silent tears as we both drift off to sleep, holding onto this peace. Holding onto him like it would be our last time.

I’M IN THE library, scrounging up anything and everything I can find about Light and Dark history, when Niko rushes in, his hair a mess of black waves over his forehead and his chin speckled with stubble. This is the least put together I’ve ever seen him, even when his power was diminished. Even when I woke up in his arms after a night of crying hysterically. His eyes are bloodshot and wild with agitation, yet his blue irises are sparked with ire.

“House meeting, Gabs. Now! Grab Morgan and meet me in the great room.”

I close the book and stand slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements that may irritate him any more. “Niko, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Just do what I said, will you? Shit!” Then he’s gone.

I grab Morgan from her room and lead her to the great room where Dorian, Alexander and Niko are already gathered. We all sit down, giving Niko the floor.

“They have Cyrus,” he deadpans.

“What?” Dorian is on his feet, fists balled at his sides.

“Stavros, he has him. And if I know our father like I think I do, Cyrus won’t be alive for long.”

“But isn’t he your cousin?” I ask, my too-high voice verging on dog tone. “How could he kill his family?”

Niko shakes his head. “He no longer sees him as family. Cyrus is a vampire now. The minute he lost his power, he became no more than a servant in my father’s eyes.”

“Bullshit,” Dorian spits. “We have to get him back. We have to find him. Now!”

“Easier said than done, old friend,” Alex says gravely. “I know better than anyone how difficult it is to escape.”

“So what do we do? We just can’t leave him,” Niko asks, desperation in his voice. He pulls at his hair, growling out his frustration. I can see that he’s in pain.

“Niko,” I whisper, going to his side. “We’ll find him. Alive.”

I don’t even think about what I’m doing, not when his agony is so palpable. I wrap him in my arms, squeezing him to my body. His hands are limp at his sides for several seconds until I feel them slide around my back.

This feels so right…yet so wrong. Niko is my friend, and he’s hurting. He just needs to be comforted. And while I know that Dorian may share a similar pain, something in my heart aches for Niko. He needs this. I need this.

“We should discuss strategy,” Dorian bites out gruffly. I let my arms fall to my sides and step away, feeling three sets of eyes burning into me. Niko gives me a quick flash of a half grin and turns back to the group.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

THE GUYS BREAK out blueprints of the Dark palace that Niko had stashed away in his study. They work tirelessly for hours, sketching out plans, rehearsing strategies and going over countless scenarios. Feeling helpless, I enlist Morgan to help me make some sandwiches and coffee.

“Aren’t you afraid?” she asks, slathering a slice of bread with Dijon mustard.

“Of what?”

“Of them going to Greece? Of them damn near committing suicide by embarking on some crazy rescue mission?”

She throws the piece of bread on the counter, and I gingerly pick it up, topping it with shaved ham. “Of course, I am,” I whisper, refusing to meet her eyes. It’ll only make it harder to fight back the tears. “I’m terrified. I wish to God—to the Divine—that they wouldn’t go, but I can’t ask them to sit back and do nothing. Cyrus is a good guy. He helped rescue me when I was attacked and nearly raped. He saved my father’s life. He’s Dorian’s family. And in some way, that makes him like my family too.”

“But he’s a vampire, right? He can’t be killed.”

I shake my head. “We can all be killed. We just can’t die from natural causes. And even if we were invincible, I still couldn’t ask Dorian to step aside and send his brother and friend into the danger zone. I couldn’t live with myself if it meant imminent death for the people I love.”

“You love them?” I can hear the underlying accusation in Morgan’s voice.

“Alexander is my father, Morgan. You know that. Of course, part of me loves him, even though I haven’t had a chance to really get to know him. You know, with people dying and disappearing all around me.” I slap cheese and lettuce on the pile of ham, and nearly pulverize a slice of bread on top of that.

“And Niko?”

“What about him?”

“You care for him. You love him too. I can see it when he’s around. You get all…weird and squirmy.”

“I am not weird and squirmy around him!” I scoff. “Yes, I have a certain level of love and respect for Niko, but I am in love with Dorian. You know that. Shit, the whole world knows that.”

“Ok, Gabs,” Morgan concedes, holding her palms up in surrender. “I’m just saying…”

“Well, don’t say, ok?” I snap, turning my attention back to prepping ham and turkey sandwiches on rye.

What the hell is Morgan’s problem? She knows good and damn well that I’m loyal to Dorian. Shit, she knew I couldn’t shake him from my system while we were apart, no matter how hard I tried. Dorian had become my addiction. Loving him was my disease. And there was no coming back from that. I could never, ever shake the habit.

We resume making lunch in silence until we have enough sandwiches to feed a small army. The guys are more than thankful for the sustenance, although it does nothing to quell the bloodthirsty gleam in their eyes.

“Find anything?” I ask, grabbing a sandwich and sitting on the couch. Dorian shakes his head without looking up from the map he’s studying.

“There are ways to get in, but getting out will be problematic. Even if one of us were to cause a diversion, there’s a slim chance we would all make it out alive.”

“So take me,” I find myself saying before I can fully think it through. “Let me help. Maybe I can do that freezey thing and get us all to safety.”

“That freezey thing?” he asks amusingly.

“You know what I mean. Come on, four heads are better than three. Let me help.”

All three Warlocks answer at the same time, completely refusing my offer.

“No way in hell.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, hell no, baby girl.”

Dorian looks up and gives me a soft smile to cushion the rejection. “I appreciate your bravery, little girl—I truly do. But I won’t risk one hair on that gorgeous head on yours.”

I finish my sandwich without another word, trying to hide my protruding lip behind slices of smoked turkey and gouda. They’re still treating me like a helpless child. I could help them! I could finally prove that all this pain and suffering was not in vain. And so what if Stavros captured me? I would blast my way out of there.

Morgan scoots beside me, offering me a chip from her bag. Translation: I’m sorry for what I said earlier, and I’m sorry that your feelings are hurt now. Here. Drown your sorrows in greasy trans fats dipped in salt.

Just as I pop the chip into my mouth, pain seizes my skull, filling my head with unbelievable pressure. It feels like my brain will explode any second, and bleed out my ears into a goopy, bloody mess. I cry out, but soon realize that I’m not alone in my agony. Dorian, Niko and Alexander are all writhing on the floor while grasping their heads. They feel it too. And although it feels like someone pounding my skull with a jackhammer, I can tell that they’re in a great deal more pain than me.

Unable to verbalize what’s happening to me, I reach out to get to Morgan and she clutches my hand. “What’s going on? Gabs, what’s wrong?”

“My…head,” I manage to croak. “Hurts…so…bad.”

“Fuck!” Niko grits out. “Stavros…” It’s all he can manage to say before he screams in sheer torture. I drop to my knees and use every bit of my might to crawl to where he twists in pain.

“Summoning us…” Dorian rasps beside his brother. He holds out a trembling hand towards me. “Hold…on.”

I force myself to turn to Morgan, the only person in the room exempt from the strange phenomena. “Morgan!” I scream. “Help! Hold…onto…them.”

Understanding, she launches herself over Alex’s body, using her own body weight to hold him to the ground. Then she reaches her hand out to us, urging us to take it.

My fingers just barely touch hers before it all goes black and still.

I WAKE UP face down with wet sand lodged in my mouth and nose, coughing and spitting out clumps of dirt. My hair is a matted mess on my face, and my clothes are damp. Pushing myself up on shaky arms, I look out into the darkness.

“Dorian?” I call, pushing out my hearing, hoping to detect any noise at all. “Hello? Niko? Morgan? Alex? Where are you guys?”

“I’m here,” a voice croaks. It’s not until Dorian coughs with a painful groan that I recognize who it is.

I begin to crawl towards the direction of his voice when I hear Niko bite out a curse a few feet away from me. I scurry to his side as he sits up, brushing sand from his face and hair.

“Un-fucking-real,” he mutters.

“What the hell happened?”

Niko sucks his teeth, grimacing. “Stavros. That’s what happened.”

“Stavros?” The word comes out as a broken whisper. “How? Where are Alex and Morgan?”

“Didn’t make it.”

“Didn’t make it?!” I’m suddenly on my feet, my fists hot as coal at my sides.

“No, no, baby girl,” Niko says holding up his palms. “Calm down. They didn’t make it here.”

“And where’s here?” I already know the answer. I just need to hear it out loud.

“Skiathos,” Dorian says from behind us.

I rush into his arms, nearly knocking him back to the ground. “How the hell…? How did we get here?”

Niko stands, still brushing wet sand from his clothing. “We were summoned.”

“Summoned?” I ask, frowning. “That was being summoned? Feeling like someone is squeezing your brain like it’s a damn grape? I thought you said no one knew where your house was? You said we’d be safe!”

“He doesn’t know. He summoned us by tapping into our Dark magic. Which is why Morgan was not affected. It’s extremely difficult and draining on your power, so I didn’t expect him to try it.”

Stavros can pluck us up out of thin air anytime he feels like it? Shit. Were we ever really safe?

“It seems as if Morgan acted as shield over Alex’s body,” Dorian adds. “It weakened his connection, which is why they were spared.”

“Interesting,” Niko muses. “We’ll have to test that little theory later. But for now, we need to figure out what the hell we’re doing here.”

I shake my head, feeling granules of sand trickle from the tips of my hair. “I don’t get it. How did this happen? Why would he come after us?”

Dorian slips his hand and mine, turning to the western end of the beach where golden light illuminates a small house affixed on a rocky cliff. “Guess we should go ask him.”

THE HOUSE ON the cliff is more like a ramshackle hut, and nothing like I expected of a Dark palace.

“It only appears meager and unassuming on the outside,” Dorian says, reading the confusion on my face. “Such grand opulence, hidden behind the rouse of poverty.”

“Everything is a lie,” Niko remarks, stepping in front of us as we climb the rocky, unpaved path to the door. “It’d be wise for you to remember that.”

“Are you sure we should just go in? I mean, shouldn’t we at least try to escape?” I look around, feeling dozens of invisible eyes on me. Why are we just striding right into the lion’s den? It just doesn’t seem logical.

Niko snorts out a laugh. “Escape? There is no escape, baby girl. We’ve been under surveillance the moment we landed on this bloody island. We either go give Stavros the audience he desires, or we die. Simple as that.”

He marches up the rest of the way, grumbling under his breath in Greek. I look to Dorian beside me with round, horrified eyes.

“We won’t make it out of here alive, will we?” I whisper. Dorian brings my hand up to his lips and gives me a soft, sad smile.

“You never know with Stavros. To kill us would be considered wasteful. We’re much more valuable to him alive than dead.”

“But he has to know that we would never, ever ally with him.”

Dorian shrugs, tugging me along toward the cobblestone entrance without another word. The door is that heavy, unfinished wood—the kind you find in old, rural cottages and dungeons. With hesitance, Niko wraps his hand around the doorknob, yet doesn’t turn it. For just a second, the handle illuminates under his grip and the door creaks open on its own.

Everything Dorian said was true. This place isn’t some dilapidated shack at all. Not by a long shot.

We step into a long, brightly lit hallway, lavishly adorned in gold and cream tones. Everything from the gilt marble-top hall tables to the bejeweled candelabras is breathtaking. I look up toward the tall, vaulted ceiling, completely awestruck as I take in the dazzling chandeliers dotted with a million tiny, teardrop crystals. It’s all magnificent—more than I could ever imagine. It’s impossible to feel fear or anger when surrounded by such astounding beauty.

“You lived here?” I gasp, running my fingers over a feather-soft, velvet armchair.

“Yes. It does take some getting used to. My apologies,” Dorian remarks, slightly cringing.

“Are you kidding me? This place is amazing! I mean, I thought Niko’s house was gorgeous, but this place…it’s…it’s…”

“Too much,” Dorian replies. “There are starving people all over the world. Most areas in my country are stricken with destitution, and that chandelier alone could sustain an entire town. We, the Dark, are curators of beauty, if you will. But there is a difference between appreciation and excess. And this…this is beyond excessive.”

“Besides,” Niko chimes with a wicked grin, “wait ‘til you see the throne room.”

We walk about twenty more yards, before three black-suited men wearing sunglasses block our advance. Vampires. I can’t sense any magic stirring in them, but the scent of blood is so thick that I can nearly taste it on my tongue. I hold my breath to keep my stomach from roiling.

“The king will see you in an hour,” the one in the front says, flashing a mouthful of fang.

“An hour?” Niko scoffs. “He sent for us. We’ll see him now so we can hurry up and get the fuck out of here.”

“No. You’ll see him in an hour. Your father requests your company at tea. Please,” Fang says, gracefully waving a hand towards another long hallway.

Niko spits out a nasty remark, telling the vamp exactly what he could do with his tea, yet turns down the gold-filled corridor. “Just like him,” he mumbles, stalking ahead. “Bring us here just to make us wait. Fuck his tea.”

“Nikolai,” Dorian gently admonishes. He appears much more calm than his younger brother, yet he hasn’t loosened his grip on my hand since we arrived. Something tells me there’s more than a little rage just under his cool exterior.

“No, fuck that! Why prolong the inevitable? Why go through the trouble of bringing us—bringing her—here if all he wanted was to get together for finger sandwiches and scones? This is bullshit and you know it, D. Stop trying to make sense of his madness. News-fuckin’-flash: There is none.”

Before I can blink, Dorian is gone from my side, and he’s got Niko pinned against the wall, a fistful of his shirt in his grip. “You may have a death wish, but I will not let you continue to compromise Gabriella’s safety with your little temper tantrums. Get your shit together, or so help me, Father will be the least of your problems,” he growls.

Niko doesn’t back down. He balls the collar of Dorian’s shirt so tight that I hear the fabric rip. “Easy for you to say, dear brother. I’m not Father’s favorite. You’re his heir. I’m just the living proof that he likes to get his dick wet.”

“Enough,” I shout, just as a porcelain vase goes crashing to the ground. “Look at yourselves! We’ve only just got here, and you’re letting this place get to you.” The men stop thrashing but don’t back away, only a mere inch standing between their violent snarls. “This is exactly what Stavros wants, and you’re playing right into it. He’s knows you’re stronger together than divided. Don’t let him win.”

I place a hand on each of them, emitting a warming comfort that loosens their tense grips and calms their rapid beating hearts. Dorian takes a step back, letting his brother go. Niko shrugs away completely, his anger still evident yet leveled.

“Fuck this,” he mumbles before falling away into a dark cloud of smoke.

Dorian straightens his suit jacket, still speckled with sand, and retakes my hand, resuming our trek through the endless hallway.

“He’s acting like a spoiled child,” he finally says after long, silent minutes.

“He’s upset—rightfully so. And he’s afraid. We all are.” I get Niko’s reaction. It’s something I probably would have done. Finding out that your cousin—a man that you had stood beside for centuries, has been captured by a maniacal tyrant and will most likely meet his final death—is enough to warrant a nervous breakdown. But to plot and plan his rescue for hours, only to be beat to the punch by Stavros…I don’t see why Dorian isn’t just as irate.

“Nikolai knows that father cares for him. He’s overreacting.”

I look at him with a raised brow. “So what he said…about you being Stavros’s favorite. Was that true?”

Dorian shrugs, yet refuses to meet my questioning stare. “Any interest my father has in me is purely self-serving, I can assure you.”

“And how does that work out for you? Being the heir to the Dark throne?”

He stops suddenly and turns to me, cupping my cheeks. “Gabriella, I don’t aspire to be anything more than what I am now—your lover and protector.”

My voice comes out in a weak whisper, afraid of the truth. “But will that be enough?” Will I be enough?

He drops his hands from my face and turns around, twisting the knob of a door I hadn’t even realized was there. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Would you really give all this up for me? Could you honestly be complacent with a normal life, and be a somewhat normal guy?”

He steps inside the room, holding the door for me to pass. Yet, he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. His silence says enough.

No. It won’t be enough. Dorian was born and raised a prince. He has been surrounded with wealth and opulence his entire life. And as I step into his room—which is more like a lavish suite at some high-roller’s penthouse in a Vegas casino—I realize that he’s been slumming it with me for the past year.

“Wow,” I gasp, unable to more eloquently express my utter fascination at what surrounds me.

Dorian’s room is like a tiny palace, filled with everything about him that I love and admire. Every intricate detail boasts a piece of him—his love for music, his appreciation for art, his obsession with tidiness.

I gently glide my fingertips over a record player that looks at least 20 years older than me. Dorian comes to stand right behind me and adjusts the needle onto the vinyl already placed on the turntable. A haunting melody echoes throughout the room as my body is caressed by a woman’s sultry voice. There’s so much soul behind it…so much pain. Like she was living the words as she sang them. I close my eyes and let my head roll back against Dorian’s chest. He rocks our bodies side to side, and I feel his lips in my hair.

“Who is this?” I sigh.

“Nina Simone.”

“It’s beautiful. And sad.”

“The most beautiful things are oftentimes the saddest.”

I breathe in his words, letting them sink into my soul with pointy, stinging thorns. I bleed for Dorian, for the love we have, for the life we may lose today inside these lovely palace walls.

Yes. He is beautiful. But he’s always been sad. Sad for what he is, and what he’s done. Sad for the life he’ll never have, despite how truly good and decent he is to his core.

He stops rocking and turns me around, sliding his hands over my shoulders to the base of my neck, my pulse beating in time with his.

“Take my bathroom; get cleaned up. I’ll have something suitable brought up for you to wear.”

Dorian steps away just as the sad song ends and is replaced with something more up-tempo. Still, the stench of death hangs thickly in the air, making it hard to feel anything but indescribable fear.

I make my way through the splendor of his iridium-draped bedroom to his vast bathroom, too shaken to fully enjoy its brilliance, and strip off the dirty clothing. Under normal circumstances, I’d fill up the huge, infinity tub accented by a thousand turquoise tiles and soak my worries away, but being that we’re pressed for time, I jump into the shower. It’s also encased in those tiny turquoise tiles, ranging from dark to light, creating an ombre mosaic of midnight and day. There’s no curtain, just a thin, glass door, exposing my naked body. When I turn the lever, warm water shoots at me from all directions, even from the floor.

I wish I could enjoy this. I wish I could pull Dorian in here with me and urge him to make love to me against the quickly frosting glass. But knowing that we will come face to face with our tormentor within the hour, my libido is feeling less than viable.

I quickly cleanse myself, giving my hair a wash with Dorian’s shampoo. I don’t hesitate to douse myself in his scent, reveling in the opportunity to wear him on my skin. It’s like breathing him, minus the tingling magic that seduces my soul whenever I take a lungful of his pulsing essence.

When I exit the bathroom and enter his bedroom, sumptuous fabrics lie on the comforter, nearly blending in. The dress is the color of shimmering obsidian, the sheen reminding me of a star-littered galaxy far away from here. I take it between my fingers, wishing I could appreciate the smoothness of the silk. Same for the lacy lingerie lying beside it. Garments this gorgeous should be cherished. Not wasted on a girl who can only picture slaughtering her host.

After slipping my feet into the matching four inch heels—which are so amazingly comfortable, I swear I’m walking on clouds—I finger-comb my still-damp hair and make my way out to Dorian’s sitting area. The French doors to the balcony are wide open, indicating that he’s outside, probably with a glass of scotch at his side. When I breach the threshold of the door, I find that I’m right.

Dorian stands at the railing, staring out into the abyss of absolute darkness. The moonless night devours any glimmer of light, swallowing his tense frame, yet I can see him clearly. I take a single step forward, not wanting to interrupt his quiet ritual, but it’s nearly impossible to be this close to him and not touch him. Especially when I know he’s filled to the brim with inner turmoil.

“Come, little girl,” he mumbles, before putting the glass to his lips and taking a hefty sip. I do as he says, walking to him until my breasts touch his back. He reaches back to find my hand, and brings it to rest on his chest. His heart pounds like a tiny drum under my palm, so much fear and anxiety rushing through his blood. I want to tell him it’s going to be ok, but that’d be a lie. Nothing has been ok for a long time.

“What do you see?” I ask after long, strained seconds.

“Pain,” he replies, his voice suddenly hoarse. “So much. And the morbid part about it is that it’s mostly self-inflicted. All the wars, all the fighting…destruction by our own hand in the name of greed, envy, lust.” He takes another gulp, draining the fiery remains from his glass. “Humanity is its own worst enemy. We’ve created monsters.”

“We?”

“The Dark.” He sucks in a ragged breath, letting it out as if the weight of the world is deflating him. “It wasn’t like this before. We weren’t like this before. And it’s only going to get worse, unless…”

“Unless?”

Dorian turns around to face me, so much melancholy and regret in those endless blue eyes. He smiles, but it’s forced.

“Unless what, Dorian?”

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, fondling a lock of hair. He brings it to his face and inhales, closing his eyes in ecstasy. “Come. Stavros doesn’t wait.”

“But, wait,” I protest as Dorian swiftly leads back into his suite. I try to question him again, but he quickly turns to me, his eyes glinting with vengeful fire as he brings a silencing finger to his lips. I narrow my eyes, but I don’t dare speak another word. If Dorian wants me to be quiet, there’s a damn good reason.

When we step into the hall, we find that we have an escort. Of course. I’m inclined to believe we were never really alone.

“Your father will see you in the parlor,” the sharply dressed vamp says, turning to lead us down the long corridor.

“Of course he will,” Dorian mumbles. I sneak a glance at him, noticing that he’s freshly showered and dressed in a midnight blue suit. His shirt is just as dark, and he’s left the top few buttons undone, tempting me with memories of running my tongue up his chiseled chest.

He catches me gawking and shoots me a naughty wink, causing me to blush like a schoolgirl. “See something you like, little girl?”

“Always.” It’s true. I’ll always want him, even when my life is balancing on a thin sliver of thread.

It feels like years have passed by the time we get to the room known as the parlor—a giant showroom full of precious art, antique furniture and a fireplace bigger than my entire apartment. The vampire leads us to a sitting area hosting an elaborate spread of finger sandwiches, cookies and, oddly enough, tea. I surely thought tea was code for sudden death or torture by de-nailing.

Just as we take our seats, Niko stalks into the room, carrying an icy wind with him. I shiver and wrap my arms around my waist as goosebumps cover my arms and legs.

“What’s wrong?” Dorian mumbles, drawing me closer.

I shake my head. “Just got…cold.” My eyes drift over to the younger Skotos, who has made himself comfortable in a plush, jacquard armchair. He doesn’t even look our way, let alone speak, yet I can see the tight ticking of his jaw.

“Being here makes him anxious. He rarely visits.”

“Why?”

Dorian pins me with that intense, blue stare, causing another ripple of cold to snake up by back. “If you knew the burden of our name, would you come to the very place where you’re constantly reminded of it?”

I don’t get a chance to answer. A clatter sounds from the entranceway across the room, and Dorian swiftly pulls me to my feet. Adrenaline spikes through me, igniting my feral senses, and I instinctively ball my hands into hard fists at my sides. However, all instinct is lost and forgotten the very moment my eyes fall upon not one, but two, sets of startling azure irises. I choke on the hiss caught in my throat, and look up at Dorian for any sign of comprehension. Is he seeing what I’m seeing? Am I missing something?

He almost…smiles. Almost. But the look of admiration—hell, even love—is undeniable in his face. My gut twists into a thousand figure eight knots as reality begins to set in. Holy shit. Holy. Shit. What have I walked into?

“Father,” Dorian nods ceremoniously. His gaze then falls to the exotically beautiful young woman standing beside Stavros. She smiles brightly as soon as she gains Dorian’s attention, and doubt and insecurity roil in my belly. He smiles back in response—genuinely, this time—and nods once more.

“Mother.”

DELIA SKOTOS IS nothing like I expected. Nothing at all.

For one, she’s ridiculously young. Like, she doesn’t look a day over 30. And she seems warm and nurturing. She’s an actual mother. Still, I can’t help sense something dark and deceitful hiding in the shadows of her smile. She hugs her sons like she hasn’t breathed since they were last together, taking their cheeks in her hands before kissing each one. She tells them how handsome they look, asks if they’ve been well—even admonishes them for rushing out of here last week without saying goodbye. It’s weird, but good-weird. I always hoped Dorian and Niko had a sense of normalcy in their lives. Delia may have been just that.

“And you must be Gabriella. How lovely to finally meet you, dear. Quite a stir you’ve caused for such a plain little thing,” she says, stopping in front of me. I divert my eyes to the ground, not knowing what proper etiquette suggests when addressing a queen, especially one that relies on sucking souls to maintain her youthful glow. Who needs Botox when you can just breathe beauty?

“Well, let’s have a look at you, shall we?” Her majesty takes my face in her hands, tilting my head up to meet her gaze. I know what she’s looking at—my eyes. She’s wondering if I really have chosen to sell one-half of my soul to the Dark. And if and when it comes to war, which side will I pick?

Assuming she’s satisfied with what she sees, the queen slips her hands from my face and grasps my hands. “Always keep your head held high, child. For even the most timid mouse can wreak havoc on a great and mighty house.” And just as my lips part to thank her for her advice, she kisses me. Like, really kisses me. Her lips are so soft, warm and—Lord, forgive me—sweet as sugar. It only lasts a few seconds—five tops—but it’s long enough for me to melt into her touch, and spark a craving to taste more. And while she doesn’t allow me to taste her tongue, I feel like I’ve been seduced. Seduced to the point of madness, where I want to be the one to tempt her. I want my kiss to infect her, stain her, make her feel just as out of control with lust.

She pulls away just as quickly as she’s touched me, breaking the erotic spell. The haze begins to lift, and I realize what’s just happened. I was just kissing Dorian’s mom! And I liked it—loved it, even! I wanted more. I wanted her to take me, right here in the parlor, on a table of delicate Macaroons and Earl Grey. What the… How the…

Well, shit. Brings a whole new meaning to the term MILF.

I stagger on my stiletto heels as Delia steps away, returning to her husband’s side. I force myself to face him, shame be damned. This man could very well be responsible for Donna’s death. He could wear the blood of those possessed humans on his hands, yet here he is, grinning at me like the cat that swallowed the canary. The very tip of his pink tongue traces his bottom lip, as his eyes stay trained on me, watching, waiting for me to crack.

As repulsive as I know Stavros is, there’s a part of me that will always be unnervingly intrigued by him. I can’t help it. Maybe it’s the way his haunted eyes seem to pick me apart, bit by bit, until I’m nothing but tendon and bone. Or how his lips just barely twitch, hinting at the slightest of smiles, unknowingly making me yearn for a show of his approval. He is the darkest desire, the sweetest taboo. And no matter what I want, or how much I love his son, the Dark in me craves to venture into murky, unknown territory.

His dominating frame draped in a dark designer suit fills the entire room. Stavros is built like an athlete-turned-model. He has a roguish beauty that speaks of a dangerous past, but he is so graceful and refined, you can’t imagine anything but the finest fabrics gracing his body. The tiny lines in the crease of his eyes tell me that his body has seen much war and destruction, and just at the temples, a slight smattering of grey stands proud amongst silken black hair, only making him appear more distinguished.

Oh, yes. If Delia was a MILF, Stavros was the king of DILFs. And he wore that crown like nobody’s business.

I feel Dorian shift beside me, and red-hot shame paints my entire face, causing me to look down from Stavros’s piercing stare. What is wrong with me? First, I am practically making out with Dorian’s mom, and now I’m damn near eye-fucking his dad? It doesn’t make sense. This isn’t me. Why the hell do I feel so out of control?

“Not funny,” Niko grumbles, flopping down on the chair, not even bothering to wait for the king and queen to sit first. “Please don’t tell me you brought her all the way here just so you two could flex your little muscles. I swear, always showing off when company comes over.”

Delia smiles lovingly at her son before taking her husband’s hand and leading him to sit. Dorian and I quickly do the same. “Well, what kind of queen would I be if I didn’t test one of our own, especially one that has completely disarmed your brother of all his sanity. It’s my duty as a mother. Though I must say…she’s so open—dangerously so. Could be troublesome for her in the future.”

“Hopefully, we won’t have to explore just how long that future is,” Stavros adds, contempt dripping from a toothy, too-wide smile. A vampire butler rushes to pour tea into cups. Mouth dry, I lean to retrieve mine, but Dorian stops me with a shake of his head.

“She’s stronger than you think,” he retorts, coming to my aid. Another layer of guilt covers me from head to toe. “She’s pushed you out of her dreams enough times, correct, Father?”

Delia stiffens beside Stavros, yet he just laughs, slapping his knee in jest. “Yes, true enough. But she had help. And trust me, boy, I’m not the only one she dreams of. But you know that already, don’t you?” His eyes sweep over to Niko, and he winks, earning him a confused look. “But your brother doesn’t seem to be in the know. Shall we enlighten him, son?”

I feel the blood drain from my face as a malicious grin begins to curve the corner of Stavros’s mouth. Niko looks at me, then Dorian, and then back to his father with narrowed suspicion. “Maybe some other time,” he deadpans. “I’d rather you tell me why the hell we’re here, for starters. Then let’s talk about what you’ve done with Cyrus.”

Stavros dips his head to one side, feigning ignorance. “Wouldn’t it be fair of me to expect an explanation? You and your brother run out of here on the most anticipated event in decades, and you want to know why I requested your presence? Surely you are not that daft.” His gaze finds mine again, and he smirks. “Or maybe you are.”

“Aurora was not fit to be my wife, nor to be queen one day. It was a mistake,” Dorian says, ignoring Stavros’s jibe.

“I’m inclined to agree,” his mother nods, sipping tea from a colorful, porcelain teacup.

Stavros dips his head from side to side, weighing Delia’s assessment. “Maybe so. But as a prince, and the future heir of this kingdom, it is bad form to renege on your promises. Have you no dignity, son? No concern for the consequences of your decisions?”

Dorian huffs out an aggravated breath. “Of course I do, father, but—”

“Then why make a sacred pledge only to sully it with deceit? You of all people should know what that would have done for this house. And now…now you’ve left a pretty girl to drown in her sorrow, because her groom-to-be enjoys the taste of hybrid pussy. I can’t say I blame you, but duty and honor must take precedence over our carnal desires. And it’s not like you are expected to lay only with your wife. One would not begrudge you for keeping little Gabriella as your concubine.”

“She’s not a concubine,” Dorian spits. His voice is still cool and calm, but there’s malice in every word that falls from his lips. “She is mine. I am hers. And no one will change that.”

“Sure about that?” Stavros tips his head, motioning to the faded mark on my hand. “Maybe you are not strong enough to keep her. There are some animals that cannot be caged.”

“Enough,” Delia commands. “Let us get on with it, my king.”

“Yes, yes,” Stavros nods. He snaps his fingers, and the door to the vast room creaks open.

I knew the very moment I heard the sultry rhythm of those designer pumps. Every step sounded like she was imagining my body embedded in the foundation, and she was jabbing and piercing my flesh with those spiked heels. I cringed, because while I knew I’d have to face her eventually, I was hoping it would be on my terms. On my territory, where I hadn’t just been verbally cut down to a home-wrecking whore and compared to vermin over dainty, crème-filled cookies.

“Hello, hubby,” Aurora chimes, lowering her svelte frame into the seat across from us. She crosses her long, shapely legs and flips her cascading, black waves. For someone who was just left at the altar days ago, she sure looks amazing. Where the hell are the puffy eyes? The acne from eating chocolate until she barfed? And that tight, curve-hugging dress looks nothing like sweats and a holey tee.

“What are you doing here?” Dorian nearly growls, his icy glare focused on his former fiancé.

“Well, this was supposed to be my home. But you and your little tart here tried to screw all that up. Luckily, I had some insurance.”

“Oh?” Dorian asks condescendingly. “And what insurance might that be, pray tell?”

Aurora smiles so sickeningly sweet that a wave of nausea attacks my stomach. I crouch over, holding my abdomen, gasping for every ragged breath.

“What did you do?” Dorian barks, grasping my shoulders before I topple over. I’m losing consciousness, struggling to remain in the here and now before I black out. His voice sounds farther and farther away as he demands answers between asking me if I’m ok.

“It’s not what I’ve done to her. But them,” I hear her answer in that shrill, sing-song voice. I force myself to look up, refusing to give her any power over my body. And once my hazy eyes fall over them, I completely straighten, shock and adrenaline replacing all traces of illness.

“I’m sure you’ve met a few of my friends already. Pity how it worked out, although fully expected. I knew you’d catch on, Dorian. And instead of telling you, I merely chose to show you. Aren’t they wonderful?”

“What have you done, Aurora?” he spits, as if his mouth is filled with bile.

“What I had to,” she smiles. “What you should have been doing all along. I gave your father what he wanted—something that could benefit our kind and rid us of atrocities such as her. We needed an army. I created one.”

“Not so fast,” Stavros chuckles, finding great joy in the three possessed humans standing before us, staring at me through zombie-like eyes. It’s true. It’s all true. But this wasn’t Stavros’s doing. It was Aurora’s. She had been playing Dorian all along!

“You,” I hiss, throat tight with overwhelming anger. “You killed Donna.”

The evil, soul-sucking bitch has the nerve to shrug. Shrug! Like it’s no big deal! Like killing my mother was the equivalent of squashing an ant.

I always knew I would kill the person responsible for Donna’s murder. I just didn’t know I’d take so much pleasure in doing so.

Just as vengeful heat snakes up my hands and wrists, I feel Dorian’s tight grasp on my thigh and hear his voice shouting in my head.

Not now! Not now, Gabriella! You will get your revenge, I promise you. But, this is not the time. Not if we want to save Cyrus.

My breath comes out in short pants as I teeter at the crossroads of slaughtering Aurora once and for all and trusting Dorian enough to wait. My eyes go to her pleased, blood-red pout, then to Stavros, who looks just as proud. I hate them. I hate them both. And I vow on everything that I love that I will kill them. It may not be today, but I will not rest until I drain every last drop of life from their pathetic souls.

“Aurora may have taken the initiative and given us the idea,” Stavros says, nodding towards the humans—two girls, one boy—none of which look a day over eighteen, “but we hope to expand this plan globally. Isn’t it funny? All this time I longed for a son—an heir that would one day take my place and lead our people with immeasurable power. And all I truly needed was a daughter.”

Aurora beams brightly at his words, causing Delia to roll her eyes and huff out an aggravated breath.

“Yes. A daughter you like to fuck,” Niko mumbles, plucking up a finger sandwich. “I still don’t see how this has anything to do with Cyrus. Where is he?”

“The vampire is alive,” Stavros says with a wave of his hand. “However, I can’t say for how long. Consider him…motivation.”

“Motivation?”

Stavros nods. “As it stands, we only have the eight true Dark powers involved, and the process is draining to our abilities. However, there is one that could be beneficial to the cause. One that is said to be even more powerful than even I,” he snorts. He turns to me, his eyes wild with excitement. “Killing Cyrus would hurt my sons. And hurting my sons would hurt you. You are ruled by your love for them, not for your love of humanity. Isn’t that right?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sneer. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh?” Stavros replies, a devilish smirk on his lips. He turns to the human kids and inclines a single finger, pulling the first human girl forward by invisible strings. “Then save her.”

“What? What do you mean—”

The first crack of bone is nearly enough to make me sick. That, accompanied by the girls blood-curdling screams as she went down, clutching her now L-shaped leg, would fuel a lifetime of nightmares. She is possessed, but she feels unspeakable pain. It was so great and so deep that I could feel a phantom ache in my own leg.

“Save her, Gabriella,” Stavros says before raising a finger again, sending the girl into another fit of screams. She clutches her arm at the elbow as blood spurts out of a deep gash from the protruding humerus bone. “Come on! Be her savior! Show us what you’re made of!”

“I-I…can’t…I…” I lift my hands to stop her pain, but they’re cold. I feel…nothing. No power surges through me, licking up my arms with prickling fire. There is no crackling ice touching my eyes, kissing them into bone-chilling magic. It’s gone. This girl is in agony right in front of me, and I’m too chicken-shit to do anything to stop it.

“Gabriella,” Dorian whispers beside me, the horror in his face urging me to do something. Or maybe what he’s telling me is to do nothing at all.

“Yes, come on, Gabriella! Let’s see the Dark Light in all her splendid glory!” Stavros bellows, drunk off power and blood-lust. His finger twitches again, and the poor girl screams so loudly that her voice gives out and becomes nothing more than a hoarse whimper. I can’t look at her—I can’t see how he’s mutilated her further, but I can smell the blood. So much blood.

“Stavros,” Delia says with a heavy accent. He laughs, yet puts down his hand, reclining back in his seat, leaving the young woman to writhe in agony on the floor.

“You see, Gabriella? Even you know that humans mean nothing. They are expendable. You couldn’t even find it in your heart to save this one.” He snaps his fingers and a vampire steps forward and grabs a handful of the injured girl’s hair. Oddly enough, she barely makes a sound as he drags her out of the room, leaving a trail of bright red blood. Maybe she knows it will all be over soon. Her pain will cease once the last remains of her life are drained from her body.

“You’re sick,” I spew, my hands shaking with ire. I hate him for what he did to that girl. And for what he made me come to realize.

“Maybe. But I do wonder…” Stavros muses, waving a hand to dismiss the other humans. I breathe a sigh of relief. “How would you react if it were your precious Dorian in danger? Or maybe you’d risk your life for Nikolai. Let’s test that theory, shall we?”

Fury-spiked blood heats my face. “Don’t you dare, or I will—”

“You’ll what? Sit there like a scared little girl? Clam up and let your precious prince die? Of course no human is a match for them. But with the right opponent…”

He snaps his fingers, and before I can fully turn my head to catch it, a vampire seizes Niko from behind, razor sharp fangs distended and just centimeters from his neck. I scream, knocking Dorian out of the way in a blur of movement, and shield him with my own body. Then I feel it—the pulsing, tingling magic, slithering up and down my arms. It warms at my fingertips before it evolves and expands into a scorching creature in my palms, too wild to be held or contained. I extend my hands, setting it free, giving it flight and freedom in the form of electric ribbons. It seeks a host in the vampire and burrows itself in his chest, filling him with magic so great and uninhibited that it fills him to the point of overflowing. A dark sludge leaks from his eyes, nose and ears as the magic holds him in frozen captivity. And, just as the last of it leaves my fingertips, the room falls completely silent and still. We all watch with rapt horror and fascination as the vampire disintegrates into a pile of foul-smelling ash.

“Ha!” Stavros exclaims, clapping his hands. Still, I’m frozen in place, unable to fully comprehend what I’ve done. “Bravo! Bravo!”

I feel a hand on my back, and I flinch before realizing its Dorian’s. He leans into me, his lips on my ear. “It’s ok, baby,” he says, slowly lowering my hands. “It’s ok. It’s over.”

I look at Niko, who appears just as shaken as me. It all happened so fast. I don’t even think he realizes how close he was from having his throat ripped out.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, jumping to his feet, frantically brushing the dead remains of his attacker from his clothing. His head snaps up, his violent stare seeking Stavros. “How could you?”

I don’t miss the hurt in his voice. He already felt inadequate…unloved. Now his father has made him expendable.

“Oh, calm down, Nikolai,” Stavros answers with a wave. “There was no real danger. Not for you, anyhow. But isn’t that interesting? That Gabriella’s power is not ruled by her love for one brother, but two?”

“You’re insane.” Niko shakes his head and scrubs a hand over his face. “And completely delusional. Gabs will never align with you.”

“Oh?” Stavros stands and circles the room, contemplating his next move. “What if I said the bounty still stands? And that it’s not only a bounty, but a call for execution? Shall we include your little human friend, Morgan? I’d love to meet her. Pity she couldn’t make it.”

That gets my attention, and I whirl around the back of the couch to face him, teeth bared. “I swear to God, if you touch—”

“If. I. What?!” His voice carries around the room, rattling teacups and saucers and shaking the priceless paintings on the walls. Then he’s in my face, only an inch separating his devious snarl from my lips. “I will do whatever it takes to get what I want. Don’t you understand that, stupid girl? And if that means sacrificing my own flesh and blood, I will do just that.”

“Back off,” Dorian growls, inserting himself between us. He meets Stavros’s sneer with an absolutely terrifying look of his own. “You will not speak to her like that. Do what you want with me, Father, but leave her out of this.”

Stavros snorts, taking a few steps back. “And what could you possibly do? You made it clear that you were above this family when you turned your back on us. You’ve thus been replaced. Now…I want the girl. And she can either come willingly, or kicking and screaming.”

He looks around Dorian’s body, his cold, blue eyes roaming my body from top to bottom. “Although I’m inclined to the option of kicking and screaming. I do so love it when she gets wild.” He sniffs the air, tasting it. “Makes her smell like sex and sugar.”

“You can’t have her,” Dorian says, ignoring his comment. “She is mine, mark or not. So I’m giving you Option C.”

Intrigued, Stavros lifts a brow. “Option C?”

“Yes.”

Dorian turns to me and gently takes my face in his hands. He searches my face, committing every tiny detail to memory, skimming through mental snapshots of every freckle and mole. Then his lips brush my forehead before his touch abandons me, leaving my skin still tingling.

He turns back to Stavros and steps forward. “Me. Take me. You’ve always wanted a worthy heir. Now you have one.”

“Dorian, no! Don’t do it!” I reach out to grasp his arm, but he anticipates it, and slides out of the way. A hand snakes around my waist, holding me back from going to him, and I realize it’s Niko. He shakes his head, but his expression is just as bleak as mine. Still, I have to do something—say something—to make him change his mind.

“And how do I know that you’re worthy?” Stavros asks, ignoring my cries of protest. “You’ve disappointed me before, Dorian. How can I trust that you will not again?”

“My mind is open to you. I am incapable of deception. I’ve had time to live in the human world and now…now I’m ready to do what it takes. I was weak before—confused and misguided about where my alliances lie. I’m not anymore.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I am done with trying to be something I’m not,” Dorian deadpans, his voice so cold and distant, I don’t even recognize it. “You don’t need Gabriella, and you definitely don’t need Aurora. Take me. I’m the one you want. Teach me, train me. Show me how to rule our people. I only ask two things.”

Stavros crosses his arms in front of him. “I’m not so sure you can bargain for any favors, but let’s hear it.”

“Let Cyrus live,” Dorian says. “And break the link between Gabriella and me.”

What?

WHAT?!!

Dorian wants to break the link. He wants to sever the only tie that would connect us forever. Why would he do this to us? This can’t be right.

“And why would I do that?” Stavros asks with a mocking smile.

“I have no desire to be tied to her. Her magic is not pure—it is a defect. Allowing mine to meld with hers will only further taint our bloodline. If I am to rule one day, I will do so with nothing but Dark blood in my veins.”

“Yet, you give her your mark. Then a ring,” Stavros challenges.

“Human tokens,” Dorian explains, as if he’s rehearsed this conversation for weeks. “Meaningless to our kind.”

The look on Stavros’s face is almost…impressed. “Fine.”

“Now.”

Stavros raises both brows in surprise. “Now?”

Dorian nods slowly. “I want you to break the link now. Then I’ll do anything you ask of me. What do you say, Father? Do we have a deal?”

“D, don’t do this,” Niko says, his voice weakened with desperation. Dorian turns his head to the side just a fraction, yet ignores his brother’s plea, extending his hand to Stavros.

Stavros takes a long beat to contemplate Dorian’s offer. Nobody speaks. Nobody even breathes. Even Delia and Aurora are stunned in silent disbelief. This isn’t right. This isn’t supposed to happen. If Dorian complies with Stavros, then what does that mean for us? For him? Is he purposely sentencing himself to an eternity of damnation?

I can’t let that happen. Not to him. Not while I still have breath in my lungs and blood in my veins. Fuck the link. He and I are bound by love.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I break free from Niko’s hold and make a dash for Dorian. Just as I reach out to grasp his shoulder, he turns around inhumanly quick, and meets my expression with his cold contempt. “I am done with playing with children. Run away, little girl. You’re not one of us.” Then just as swiftly, I’m left to stare at his back through burning tears.

His words seal the deal with the devil, and Stavros nods. “I accept your offer, son,” he says, smiling with pride. He slips his hand into Dorian’s and shakes, and I feel like someone has punched me in the gut, sucking the air right from my lungs. I stagger, and Niko is right there to steady me, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, leaning in to whisper in my ear and stirring the curls around my neck. I feel him flinch as Stavros approaches, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t give up on me.

Stavros’s cold, broad hand lays flat against my chest, his eyes wide with mischievous delight. “Don’t move, or I could lose the connection and end up crushing your chest,” he warns. Then he begins to chant in a low, accented voice. It’s the Dark tongue, the ancient language genetically embedded in every Dark One’s frontal lobe. A gust of wind sweeps through the parlor, causing cups and dishes to clatter to the floor.

I don’t have to look up to know what’s happening. I can feel my soul being ripped from my body. And why stop it? Why fight for someone who sees me as nothing more than a defect? I can’t even cringe when I feel Dorian’s essence being conjured from my body. The finishing blow was already dealt the moment he said he didn’t want me anymore.

When he finishes just minutes later, I feel emptier than I’ve ever felt before. It’s not just his magic that left me—it was him. Dorian abandoned me. Now it all makes sense—his silence, his desperation. I felt it in his touch. I tasted his intent in his kiss, and mistook it for passion. He was trying to say goodbye all along, and I refused to accept it. I refused to let him go.

Dorian still keeps his back to me, but I can see his head is down, and his shoulders rise and fall as if he’s panting. I won’t ask him to face me. Not now. Never again. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing me broken apart.

Stavros quietly steps away, turning to glimpse one of the only remaining paintings on the wall. “However, there is just one thing,” he muses.

Dorian’s voice is raw, almost hoarse. “And what’s that?”

“Insurance.”

Before the last syllable leaves his lips, Stavros glides to stand before Dorian and grasps the younger man’s forehead. He digs into his temples so hard that I can literally hear the sickening sounds of Stavros’s fingertips scraping against delicate arteries. Dorian screams, and that pure, undiluted sound of fear and hopelessness brings me to my knees. I may hate him right now, but every agonized piece of me will love Dorian until the end of time. And I damn sure can’t stand to see him in pain—link or not.

“Stop it! You’re killing him!” I cry, feeling wildfire skate across my palms. My hands rise automatically, controlled only by the power racing under my skin. In an instant, Stavros shifts, and his hand is secured tightly around my throat and lifting me up onto my feet, his other still grinding into Dorian’s skull.

“Use it, and he’s dead,” he roars in that ancient, commanding voice.

Mouth agape with terror, all I can do is hang there as I watch Death and Malice dance in the reflection of his eyes. He lets me go, focusing his attention on torturing his son. Dorian’s legs buckle and he lets out a blood-curdling shriek, causing the lights to flicker and sizzle before popping like tiny, glass fireworks.

“That’s right,” Stavros rasps, bringing his son to his knees. “It will all be over soon.”

The howling winds pick up and the ground quakes violently, stirring trinkets, dishware and food into a mini tornado. It grows, whipping around us, pushing our own bodies with the mere force of Stavros’s magic. A large hutch creaks and groans before splintering down the middle and joining the cyclone.

“Watch out!” Niko yells, pushing me down to the ground just as large shards of broken glass marginally miss my face. His body is partially covering mine on the ground, shielding me from the quickly growing storm. It rips the paint and plaster off the wall, and yanks a huge chandelier from the ceiling that goes crashing into the sitting area. I hear both Aurora and Delia scream as we’re all pelted with broken slivers of crystal.

I expose my eyes just enough to see Stavros and Dorian, both of their bodies flickering in and out of their human forms. It’s like watching them being electrocuted, each surge giving us flashes of skeleton and darkness. I’m only able to catch a glimpse of it before the twister condenses, pulling itself together around the two until they’re completely sheathed in rotating debris. It molds itself around them, gathering strength and speed, until it becomes nothing more than a blur, even to my superhuman eyes. And just when I think that it can’t go beyond its limits, it moves past the speed of sound, causing silence to settle over the room for only a mere second before it erupts entirely, incinerating the wreckage into shimmering sand.

My ears are ringing, and I’m completely covered with dust. Coughing, I rub the dirt out of my eyes. Niko’s weight still covers my body, but he rolls away, also choking on the clouded air.

“What happened?” I croak.

“I don’t know.”

He helps me to my feet just as the dust begins to settle, and we’re finally able to assess the fallout. Two lifeless bodies lay before us.

One Dorian’s, the other belonging to the Dark king.

I RUSH TO Dorian’s side, cradling his head in my lap. Not long ago, I was in this very same position, watching the life slip out of my mom. I can’t do this again. I can’t lose him, even if he doesn’t want me.

Vampire servants rush to Stavros’s side just as he begins to groan. I don’t even give him a second of my attention. Dorian is hurt. He’s broken. In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him so weak. He has always been synonymous with power, strength and beauty. Now he’s a crumpled mess on the floor.

“What do we do?” I frantically whisper to Niko, noticing the many eyes on us.

“We have to get him out of here. He isn’t safe here.”

I hear glass falling behind me as Aurora staggers to her feet. “Stop them! They’ll get away!”

The vampires aiding Stavros look to their master, who has just come to consciousness. He gives a weak shake of his head. “He’ll be back.”

That’s all the prompting Niko needs. His eyes find mine, shining with fear and frenzy. “Hold on.”

He drapes his body over Dorian and I, sheathing us in his magic. I feel the pull, but it isn’t painful this time. It’s like falling from a forty-story building with no net. It feels dauntingly endless, until you’re not falling anymore. You’re gliding. You’re weaving through time and space in a blur of color, blazing through dimensions, until you suddenly hit an invisible wall. And you just stop.

We’re at Niko’s mansion, sprawled on the floor of the great room. We’re all in one piece although Dorian is still unconscious, barely holding on. I clutch onto his listless frame, trying to both protect him and collect my bearings at the same time. Alexander flashes to us before I can even take a gulp of air.

“What happened?” he asks, kneeling down to help us.

“Stavros, happened,” Niko groans. He’s weak and ghostly pale, and his body trembles from head to toe. He used so much of himself to get us back here—probably more than he should have. But he did it because, like me, he wouldn’t give up on the people he loved.

Niko manages to sit upright, supporting himself on the loveseat, and takes a deep wheeze of a breath. “He did…something…to him.”

Alexander narrows his eyes while checking Dorian’s vitals, while I place a pillow under his head. “Something like what?”

All Niko can do is shake his head before he begins to slip out of consciousness. His mask is completely down now, and his true form, which is nothing more than black smoke and bone, is revealed. Of course, this is the exact time that Morgan decides to enter the room.

“Oh my God! What the fuck—”

“Morgan, there’s no time for that!” I shout, making the difficult decision to leave Dorian to rush to Niko’s side before he topples over. “Help me hold him up. I need to heal him.”

Sensing the urgency in my voice, Morgan reluctantly kneels on his other side, yet she’s careful not to touch him. Niko raises a brittle hand and gently grazes my cheek.

“Niko, tell me how to help you. What can I do?” Sure, I healed Morgan, and even attempted to heal Donna, but it was Niko who stood right by my side. It was his words I heard when I conjured the strength to push my lifeforce into them.

He opens pale, boney lips, but I can’t hear his words. I lean in closer, placing my ear right at his mouth. That’s when I feel those spiny fingers dig into my neck, pulling me down closer until ashen, dry lips are at the base of my throat.

“Niko! What the hell—”

He inhales in a broken breath, taking a deep draw of my magic. His hands tremble as he pulls my body down to his, practically fusing us chest to chest. I feel his mouth and nose stroking my collarbone before he takes another gulp. It’s enough to still the trembling, and I feel the coiled muscles in his body begin to loosen. I try to pull away, willing to excuse his actions as temporary insanity, but he flips me onto my back and wedges his body between my legs.

“Niko! Niko, that’s enough.” I push, but he’s made of steel. And with him sucking in my power so enthusiastically, I’m left with minimal energy. Plus, I feel…high. Good. Like I’m floating beyond the clouds, basking in sunlight.

I hear my dress rip and cold hair hits the top of my thighs, all the way up to my hip. The bodice of my dress is next to go, but before Niko can bury his face in my breasts, a hand clamps over his shoulder, urging him to let up.

“That’s enough!” Alexander shouts. Niko shrugs him off, and dives back in, inhaling the curve of my cleavage. He groans, going in for one more life-draining pull, when he’s suddenly ripped right off me and thrown clean across the room. Alexander stands before me, his expression all fury and concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks, extending his hand to help me up.

“Yeah. I think so.” I take his hand and let him pull me up, careful to smooth the ripped dress over my body.

When I’m on my feet, I reluctantly search out Niko, who is standing on the other side of the great room, horror and regret etched in his face. Still, he looks better now, and I know he’s stronger.

“Gabs…” he rasps. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize what I was doing. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t.”

I wave him off, yet it’s impossible to meet his forlorn gaze. “I know. It was an accident.”

Starving for the distraction, I drop to my knees beside Dorian, who is still knocked out cold. He looks so small, so helpless. I keep expecting for his lips to twitch into a mischievous half-smile, or for him to open those dazzling eyes, just to give me a playful wink. What happened to him? What could have Stavros done to reduce this incredible force of nature to nothing more than a puddle at my feet.

Alexander comes to stand beside me, his presence providing a needed sense of comfort and safety. “How is he?” I ask him, hoping he’s seen something like this before.

“I can’t say. Whatever Stavros did was strong, which means it must be rare.”

I nod. “It was strong. Left him almost as bad as Dorian.” I brush a lock of silken hair from his sweat-dampened forehead before leaning forward to gently kiss the clammy skin. He feels hot, yet cold under my fingertips, as if he’s breaking a fever. More than anything, I wish I could feel his pain. I wish I could just share this curse that has left him so weak and broken. “Help me get him to our room, please. I want to make sure he’s comfortable.”

Alexander complies, lifting Dorian’s limp body as if he’s as light as a kitten. He follows me to our room, where he gingerly lays him atop the winter-white bedspread.

“Thank you,” I say, as I remove Dorian’s shoes. “For helping me. And for saving me.”

He gives me a stiff nod. “You’re welcome.” He turns to leave the room, but stops in the doorway. “Nikolai is a good man, but he’s dangerous. You should be careful with him.”

“Can’t the same be said for all of you?” I snort.

Alexander tilts his head to one side. “True. But there are some of us that struggle with bouts of addiction. Niko has a troubled past. There’s a reason why he’s considered the black sheep in that family.”

I shrug, not wanting to hear any more, although I appreciate Alex’s warning. Niko isn’t perfect. Big deal—none of us are. And while I understand why Alex would like to pull the concerned father card after what just went down in the great room, it’s completely unnecessary. Niko had a moment of weakness. That’s it. And when you’re supposedly the strongest being on earth, yet your most debilitating weakness is love, you tend to sympathize with the forsaken and flawed.

I sit and watch Dorian for over an hour before Morgan comes to check on me. After force-feeding me a cup of yogurt, she volunteered to stay with Dorian so I could clean up and change out of the ripped dress. I was done in three minutes flat. If Dorian woke up, I wanted him to know that I had never left him—that I had stayed loyal to him despite how he had betrayed me.

Dorian’s curse was a double-edged sword. He couldn’t lie, so I didn’t have to ever question his words. When he told me he loved me, I knew he meant it. When he said he’d spend eternity making things right for me—for us—I never felt the need to question it. And when he looked me in the eye, announcing that he was done with me, I knew right then and there that he’d been certain.

He didn’t want me anymore.

I was just a phase—his walk on the wild side with the degenerate orphan.

I shiver, still feeling the coldness in his ice-blue stare when he’d told me that I wasn’t like him. Being back home within those golden palace walls, must’ve made him realize just how badly he wanted his old life back. He was raised to be surrounded by magnificence. Not misfits.

Still, I couldn’t just leave him to die. I’d stay by his side while he recovered. I’d do whatever it took to bring him back. And when he was strong again, I’d force myself to let him go. I wouldn’t keep trying to make him love me again, because I was smart enough to know that it wouldn’t be real.

“Haven’t you tried to heal him? Like you did with me?” Morgan asks after several minutes of silence.

I shake my head. “I’m afraid to. Stavros said if I used, he would die. I don’t know if that means healing too, but I can’t risk it.”

She goes back to study the rise and fall of his chest. “Do you think he’ll be ok? Like, you don’t think he’ll…”

“I don’t know.” I can’t even think about it. A world without Dorian isn’t an option for me. I couldn’t survive an eternity without him. Hell, I could barely survive a few months without him. Yet, here we are again, going around in circles while the future of our realm hangs in the balance.

“He’ll come back,” she says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “He loves you too much to let you face all this shit alone.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

She turns to shoot me a side-eye. “You’re joking, right? The man looks at you like you’re the sun and the moon. Like you’re every single note in all his favorite songs. I’ve never seen anyone so devoted to another person before.”

I shake my head. “Since when did you become president of the Dorian Fan Club? Do you have a special D patch on your letterman jacket?”

“Haha. Very funny,” she chuckles. “I know what he did for me. He was the only one willing to help me see the truth when Alex and Niko would have killed me. And I know they were just protecting you, so I get it. But if it weren’t for Dorian’s love for you, I would have been nothing more than a pile of awesome hair, über stylish clothes and acrylic nails.”

A laugh bubbles up in my chest, and as morbid as the conversation may be, I’m thankful for the distraction. Morgan squeezes my frame before resting her head on my shoulder. “He’ll be ok, Gabs. The man is as addicted to you as you are to him. He just can’t quit you, and he won’t even let death stand in his way.”

But he did…

He did quit me.

And he didn’t even blink one of those long lashes. It was just that easy for him to leave me. Again.

A silent tear rolls down my cheek, and I quickly bat it away. I’m not ready to go there right now. Maybe later, when I know he’s ok, I can properly hate him for breaking my heart for the umpteenth time. I can close the door on us once and for all. Lucky for me, I still hadn’t fully recovered from the last time he took his love away and discarded me like a used condom. So while it hurt—God, this shit hurts like hell—it was almost expected. I hadn’t just been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was waiting for the entire leg to just fall the fuck off.

Morgan kisses me on the cheek before standing to leave me with my thoughts. She smooths my tangled mess of curls, no doubt cringing at its less than styled state.

“Even with what I am now,” she whispers before turning for the door, “I’d give anything to have somebody love me like that. Mortal or immortal. Light, Dark, vampire, werewolf, angel, demon… I don’t even think I would discriminate. Like I said, Gabs—not even death would keep him from you. That’s the kind of love that people spend lifetimes searching for—the kind wars are fought for. It can’t even really be described as love anymore. It’s insanity of the heart.”

I don’t respond—I can’t—so she quietly exits the room, leaving me to ponder her words. If what she said is true, then why agree to give Stavros what he wants? How could he look me in the face and tell me to go away? As if I’m some pathetic little puppy that’s been following him around, begging for a treat?

“Gabs?”

I look up to find Niko in the doorway, still looking as sheepish as he did earlier. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t even hear him come in. And while I’m still shaken by what happened earlier, I need to talk to him. If anyone would have insight on Dorian’s motives, it’d be him.

I clear my throat and nod, sliding over on the bed to put more space between us. A part of me trusts him, but the other half doesn’t. “Come in.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, scooting to the far edge of the bed. He knows I’m not exactly comfortable with him anymore, and it hurts him. I can see the pain and regret in his face. And, while I should just shrug and remind him it’s his own fault, I can’t. I’ll never be able to look at him as a monster. Not when I’ve already glimpsed the beautiful sadness of his soul.

“I just want to tell you how sorry I am,” he says quietly, his eyes fixed on his older brother.

“I know you are.”

“No, you don’t,” he shakes his head. “You’ll never know how much it killed me to see what I’d done to you. I promised to never do that again…to never lose control.” His eyes find mind, and I nearly gasp at the agony inside them. “I hate myself for slipping up—more than you could ever know. And while I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I need you to know that I won’t stop trying to earn it.”

I nod, torn between the urge to gather him in my arms and comfort him, and to respect the silent alarm going off in my head. “So it’s true? You were an addict?”

Niko snorts and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve seen what true addiction looks like, and nothing but death can stop it. But, have I killed more people that I can count? Yes. Will I forever live in self-loathing because I’m too fucking weak to control myself? Hell yes.”

I give him a tight, sympathetic smile. “It’s not all your fault. You were drained and delirious. I should have just healed you.”

“No. I didn’t want you to. The process of healing one of us requires you to absorb energy. You would have taken on all of my fatigue. I couldn’t do that to you.” He spits out a sardonic laugh. “So instead, I did something far worse.”

Hating the distance between us, and the sorrow in his voice, I scoot toward him. “Hey. I’m fine, Niko. The only thing that got hurt was my dress. I’m more upset about that beauty getting ruined than anything else.”

“You don’t get it, Gabs—”

“I do,” I interject, laying my hand on his. He trembles under my touch, as if he’s afraid of what he could do. “Accidents happen, and that’s exactly what that was—an accident. I can see how this is eating you up inside, so I won’t ask you why, but I know that you need to forgive yourself. Whatever happened out there—or before—you have to let it go, Niko. You’re not that person anymore.”

Niko’s hand slowly turns until his palm meets mine. Our breaths falter when his fingers move between mine until our hands are locked together in an intimate embrace. Simultaneously, our gazes meet, and we smile as heat invades my cheeks.

This is…nice. Like the first time we held hands last Halloween while sitting in his car in an abandoned parking lot. Another girl had just been killed, and we’d run into Solara, the Light Enchanter who’d secretly been looking out for me. Emotions and adrenaline were high. And touching him…him touching me…it was comforting, even if it wasn’t entirely innocent.

His lips part at the same time mine do, but whatever it was that we intended to say falls dead on our tongues the moment we hear an anguished groan.

“Oh my God!” I jump, dropping Niko’s hand without a second thought. He’s not offended. We both flash to the head of the bed, just as Dorian lets out another painful groan that ends in a cough. “I’m here, Dorian. It’s ok, you’re safe.”

He coughs again, and the harsh sound makes me cringe. I’ve never seen him sick before. Come to think of it, I’ve never even seen him physically hurt. Yeah, I may have drawn blood when I slapped him across the face—not my finest moment, I should add—and yeah, I saw his chest ripped open when he and Alex fought. But he still seemed like Superman to me: invincible.

Eyes still closed, Dorian slides his tongue over his dry lips and gasps. For some ungodly reason, I feel my sex clench. Really? Of all times for me to be aroused, my hormones pick this moment to stir awake?

I shake my head and squeeze my thighs together, refusing to acknowledge the little quiver below. Taking one of Dorian’s hands, I focus on just being here for him. Yet, I acknowledge that I’m secretly praying that he still wants me here whenever he opens his eyes.

“D, we’re here, man. We’re all here.” At the sound of Niko’s voice, Dorian’s eyelids begin to flutter rapidly, as if he’s struggling to peel them apart. When they finally do open, he blinks a dozen times, trying to focus them in the direction of his brother’s relieved sigh.

“Damn, man,” Niko smiles. “You scared us. Do me a favor—the next time you’re starved for attention, just say so. You don’t have to go pissing off the old man.”

Dorian frowns with confusion. “Nikolai?” His voice is so weak, and, oddly enough, different. Like, heavily accented, more so than I’ve ever heard it.

“Yeah, D. I’m here. I got us out of there as soon as I could.”

I squeeze Dorian’s hand gently, letting him know that I’m here too. I want him to know that I never left, no matter what he said. The movement prompts him to slowly turn his head toward me, where I smile at him lovingly. Overwhelming relief floods my eyes, and I bring his hand to my lips just as the first grateful tears fall.

However, the second a salty drop slides down my cheek and touches his fingers, Dorian flinches, pulling his hand away as if I’ve just shocked him. He frowns, disgust clearly reflected in his face, and opens his mouth to speak again in that foreign voice that I don’t know. Hope deflates me like the air out of an old balloon.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“THIS IS SO fucked. This is so fucking fucked.” Niko paces the floor, shoving his hands in his hair every few seconds to tug on the long front layers in frustration. “So fucked.”

“You said that already. Now tell me what happened.” I nearly have to yell over the sounds of Dorian’s irate screams—a mix of Greek, accented English and the Dark tongue. I look over at him as he thrashes on the bed, bound by invisible restraints. Seeing him so furious and disgusted with what we’ve done to him makes my heart hurt, and I quickly turn back to Niko.

“A reversal,” he says answers, grimacing. “Stavros did a reversal spell.”

“Wait…what? Like you did for Chris? And what Dorian did to Jared? But why is he…different? I saw Jared and he was the same—kind, sweet. But that?” I wave in Dorian’s direction just as he threatens to dismantle Alexander limb from limb for spelling him to the bed. “That isn’t Dorian. It doesn’t even sound like him.”

Niko shakes his head before stopping mid-stride and looks at me with that same look of regret from earlier. “That’s because Stavros didn’t reverse his memories. He reversed him. He isn’t the same person. And judging by the fact that he doesn’t even recognize Alex, I’d say he shaved off at least an entire century. Which would explain why our father was so weakened afterward.”

A century?

This was Dorian a hundred years ago? Vile? Belligerent? Cruel?

“We have to come up with something else,” Niko says to Alex, who is staring daggers at the stranger who was once his best friend. After hearing the commotion when Dorian woke up, Alex walked in to find Niko shielding me from his older brother, who was hell-bent on slaughtering me.

“She reeks of filth and humanity, but she isn’t human,” he sneered, circling us like a predator. “Give her to me, brother, and I’ll make her tell me what she is.”

“It’s me, Dorian!” I tried to shout around Niko, but he instantly shoved me behind him. “It’s Gabriella. You know me.”

“How dare you address me, you degenerate whore! I should cut out your tongue for speaking to me in that manner, but I’ll save you for Aurora. She’ll have fun with a little bitch like you. Maybe we’ll defile you together.”

His smile was off as he looked at me, raking those pale blue eyes up and down my body. Less seductive, more disturbing. And the dialect of English he spoke wasn’t Americanized, as if he hadn’t lived in the U.S. Initially, I thought Stavros had done some weird switcheroo thing, but it was obviously Dorian. He knew that Niko was his brother. He just didn’t know me.

When Alex burst through the bedroom door, he instantly immobilized Dorian, freezing him where he stood. “What the hell happened to him?” he asked, alarm in his usually calm, level voice.

“I don’t know,” Niko said. “But whatever it is, we have to get Gabs to safety. She’s not safe around him.”

“Bullshit,” I challenged, stepping around to face them, hands on hips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Baby girl, he’s a danger to you. You need to—”

I held up a hand, refusing to hear anymore. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’d appreciate it if you treated me like I’m not some kid who can’t defend herself. If he comes at me, you know I could seriously hurt him.”

He looked at me, a small frown etched over his brow. “I know that. But we both know that you don’t want to.”

The immobilization spell only held for a couple minutes before Dorian broke through it. Now that he had no regard for me, I could see that I had gravely underestimated his strength. Both Niko and Alex had to act fast, binding him to the bed. Problem was, Bad Dorian would not shut the hell up.

“Dude, enough!” Niko grumbles, throwing his hands up. “Does he ever close his fucking mouth? Hell, I liked him a lot better when he was knocked out cold.”

Taking the hint, Alexander throws an imaginary gag in Dorian’s direction, causing his incessant threats and insults to instantly be muffled.

I take a moment to catch my breath and flop into a white leather armchair in the corner of the room. “We can’t leave…him…like that forever. It has to be uncomfortable for him. And won’t they come looking for him?”

Him. That’s what the man I loved—love—had been reduced to. Him. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t try to see the person I had fallen in love with inside the monster who had threatened to rape and torture me until I begged for death. Whoever this person was, he wasn’t Dorian.

“I guarantee he’s summoned Aurora already,” Niko replies, rubbing the dark scruff on his chin. He looks up at Alex who is staring at his former friend like he’d be willing to rip..his…head off at the word Go. “Alex, how long can we hold him?”

My father tips his head from side to side. “A day, day and a half tops. I’ve bound him pretty tight, but he’s strong.”

“Shit.” Niko scrubs a hand over his weary face.

“Is there anything I can do?” I ask. “You know, maybe if I give it a go, it would be enough to hold him for longer.”

He shakes his head, resuming his pacing. “You aren’t trained. You could end up releasing him instead, and he’d have your severed head in his hands in two seconds flat. Too much of a risk. I’ll tighten up the wards around the house, so that’ll keep anyone he summons from getting in.”

“Until Stavros decides to have us over for tea again,” I mumble.

“No. He won’t have enough strength to do it. Not for a while at least. You saw how weakened he was.” Niko stops pacing abruptly and comes to kneel in front of me. “Just promise me you won’t give up. He’ll say things to you—he’ll try to coerce you into letting him go. But you can’t, you know that, right? You can’t let him get inside your head and make you think he loves you. Because that man over there does not love you. He doesn’t love you, Gabs. He wants nothing more than to see you bloody and beaten, writhing on the ground like a dying animal. And that’s exactly what he’ll do to you the minute you free him.”

“I know that.” The feeble sound of my voice doesn’t match the conviction of my words.

“I just need to know that I can trust you to do whatever it takes to bring him back to how he was. It won’t be easy—hell, I’m not even sure it’s possible—but we have to try.”

I nod once. “You can trust me.”

“Good,” he replies jumping to his feet. “Alexander and I need to strengthen the wards and patrol the area. I need you to just…watch him. He’ll be able to talk soon, and I need to know that you’re strong enough to handle whatever he says.”

“I am.”

“Atta girl,” he says, making his way to the door. “And keep Morgan out. One sniff of her, and he’ll be delirious with hunger. Not even you could stop him.”

I nod enthusiastically, remembering how wild with blood-lust Dorian had become when Morgan had tried to enter the room. Just smelling her essence from yards away was enough for him to nearly break through the invisible restraints. Now she was banished to her room in the far end of the mansion.

Niko and Alex disappear into the wooded area around the house, looking for any weak spots in the ward that protected the property. Niko told me earlier that it was one of the strongest and complex wards ever created. He said it took several months to get it just right, and any adjustments could be tedious.

“Why is that necessary, when no one even lives here?” I’d asked him.

I’ll never forget the lost look in his eyes when he’d answered. “I failed to protect something I loved. I’ll never make that mistake again.”

“Amelie?”

He tipped his head just once before looking away, ending the conversation. I didn’t dare press for more. I wouldn’t put him through any more undue pain.

I sit in lonesome silence for hours, refusing to turn my gaze to where Dorian lays. He’s given up on screaming, his voice successfully muffled by Alex’s spell. However, I can feel his eyes burning into me. Watching me. Daring me to turn to him. They taunt me from across the room, reminding me that no matter what he is now—and what he’s always been deep down—I am under his spell. He owns me. And while I may just be a broken toy to him, he is still every star in the sky to me.

“Gabriella.”

I’m not sure that I even really hear my name on his tongue. Like maybe my desire for that sense of familiarity was so strong that my imagination created a variation of it. A heavily accented version that I know, yet I don’t know.

“Gabriella.”

The voice is richer now, less raspy. I hear him clear his throat and he repeats it a third time with perfect clarity. I let myself look at him, or maybe I’m actually forcing my gaze to drift over to the man on the bed. Because even as my eyes find his in the dimly lit room, they burn like I’m looking at the sun.

“That is your name, correct?”

I nod slowly, as if the movement pains me.

“You’re a little thing. How old are you, child?” I can’t tell if there’s malice in his tone, or genuine curiosity.

After a long beat passes as I internally debate whether or not to answer him, I whisper, “Twenty-one.”

“And you aren’t human, correct?”

I shouldn’t tell him. Niko had warned me that he would try to get into my head and manipulate me into letting him go, but I honestly don’t see the harm in talking with him. This is Dorian. This isn’t some stranger on the street. Hell, just less than 48 hours ago, we were both on this bed, and I was straddling his face as he composed a symphony between my thighs.

I know this man. I love this man. And maybe…maybe if I can just remind him of that, he’ll come back to me.

“I’m not,” I squeak, not fully confident in my decision.

“But you’re not like me.”

“I’m not.”

He ponders my answer before raising a brow. “So…what are you?”

“Different.”

“Different how?”

“Just different.”

He purses his lips at my answer, yet accepts it. A few strained moments pass as I fight the urge to crawl inside his head and unearth whatever block is on his mind.

“Come here, girl. Let me have a closer look at you. I promise, I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

I swallow against the dryness in my mouth as I stand on shaky feet. He’s only yards away, but every step feels like I’m being torn in half. I can feel him luring me, pulling me into his trap. And while I know he’s dangerous, and his only interest in me is devious, I want to go to him. I want to hold him and kiss him and tell him how happy I am that he’s alive. Then I want to slap him for scaring me like that.

But this Dorian…this Dorian wouldn’t kiss me back. He wouldn’t laugh while I tackled him to the bed. And when I slapped him, this Dorian would surely slap me back hard enough to make me go flying into the wall.

Still, I make my way to the bed where he’s bound, his magic stifled to hinder his escape.

“There you are,” he smiles in that wrong way again. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

I shake my head. “What do you want?”

His shoulder twitches as if his intention is to shrug, but his restraints won’t let him. “Just the pleasure of your company. You said you know me, and I know you. How?”

I nearly chew through my lip as I try to find a way to explain what he is to me… what we are to each other. There is no definition for it, no term to fully grasp that depth of devotion. Dorian once called me his girlfriend, and it just didn’t seem right. He was certainly more than a boyfriend to me. He lived inside me. He felt every one of my emotions as if they were his own. He came as he felt me orgasm, the intensity heightened through the deep emotional bond woven from his magic.

Dorian had become more than life to me. But right here, as I looked down at the imposter taking up space inside his body, I couldn’t find the words to tell him. And while I hoped to bring him back with those memories, they weren’t for this Dorian. And wouldn’t let him have them.

“We were…we dated,” I settle on.

He barks out a laugh that sounds anything but humorous. “I dated you?”

My face heats with aggravation. “Yes. Why is that so hilarious?”

“No offense, but I wouldn’t date you. I don’t think I would even fuck you.”

I take a step forward, bold on hurt and anger. “And why’s that?”

“Well, for one, you’re not one of us. And do you know what I mean by that?”

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I twist my lips into a partial grimace. “You mean Dark.”

“Correct. And if you are not Dark, you might as well be Light. We don’t mix. Ever.”

“But you know I’m not Light.”

Dorian rolls his eyes with boredom. “Doesn’t matter. On the supernatural food chain, my kind is at the top. And you, child, are most likely somewhere in the dirt, hiding under rocks, along with the other grubs and rodents.”

Ouch. “Is that right?”

“It is. It’s the order of power. The divine powers will always rule. All others will remain docile or face death,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“Yet, you’re the one bound to this bed, being held captive by a tiny, insignificant grub.”

Dorian smiles crookedly, and for a minute, I imagine that it’s for me. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“That it is.”

“There’s also the matter of your birth.”

I frown. What would he know about my birth? “Excuse me?”

“Your birthright. Your family name. If you know my brother, as you claim to know me, you would also know that I am a prince. But not just any prince—I am heir to the throne. You are in the presence of great royalty and an exquisite bloodline. You should be honored.”

I laugh sardonically. Is this guy for real? Did Stavros’s hot tub time machine turn Dorian into the ultimate arrogant jackass? Or was this asshole lying dormant within him all along?

“Pity all your greatness is being wasted on such a worthless peasant,” I reply, smiling sweetly.

Dorian does the weird twitchy thing with his shoulder again. “I’ve endured worse. Besides, I plan to do worse when I get out of here.” There’s promise in his words, not a threat.

“Your brother is doing this for your own good. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants to keep you safe,” I insist.

“My brother? Ha!” he snorts, nostrils flaring. “Fuck my brother. He’s no blood of mine. Would a brother allow this?” He tries to struggle against the invisible rope, yet doesn’t move.

“Dorian, please. It’s not what you think—”

“I told you, girl. I am a prince. You will address me as such,” he sneers, those ice-blue eyes turning eerily pale. “You know nothing of my brother. You think he cares for you? For anyone other than himself? How considerate could he be if he left you here, alone with a monster? A poor, defenseless little girl, trapped here with the epitome of evil?”

I feel something snap within me before a sizzle settles in my veins. It’s as if the magic inside me is a glow stick, and once you add a bit of pressure, causing it to crack, it comes alive.

I look at the stranger on the bed, seeing a ghost of someone I used to know. “No one said I was a poor, defenseless little girl.” My voice is cold and vacant, devoid of anything I may have ever felt for him.

“Is that right? Well, then, prove me wrong.”

I step in closer, bending forward so he can see the fire kindling behind my icy demeanor. I know I’m poking a sleeping bear, but I don’t care. He wants to see who I am—he wants to know what I’m capable of. Now’s his chance. “I could hurt you. I could reduce you to nothing but a pile of ash with a snap of my fingers. I could make you wish you had never seen my face.”

A slow smile drags across his face and ire sparks inside those pale blue eyes. “But you won’t. Because you’re in love with me. And I’m here, bound like a prisoner, because my brother thinks he is in love with you.”

“What?” I snap to an upright position and flit across the room, fast enough for the secret of my abilities to be revealed. His smile draws tighter—satisfied with himself.

“Ah. I see I’ve struck a nerve. I’m right, aren’t I? You love me. I can smell it on you, stinking of false hope and desperation. I affect you. Even though I’ve been vile to you, I can still taste your arousal.” He inhales then licks his chops, a low hum rumbling his throat. “Mmmm. Tastes sweet. The scent of your sex is on this bed. I’ve fucked you on these very sheets, haven’t I?”

Stunned, I say nothing. I can’t dispute his claim when I know every single word is true. But it was Dorian I had made love to. Not this imposter.

“Tell me, Gabriella…how many times did I make you come the last time I was inside you? Did you scream my name? Did you dig your fingernails into my back? Do you like me to take you from behind and fuck you hard like a wild animal?”

“Stop. It.”

“And when I fucked you so thoroughly, so completely, did you imagine it was my brother sliding inside you? Did you wonder if he was listening to you moan from outside the door? Did you crave his taste on your tongue, his seed spilling inside your mouth? You did, didn’t you? You claim to love me, yet it was my younger brother you imagined between your legs.”

“I said, stop it!” Every light in the room flickers and sizzles. I’m panting like I’ve just run a marathon, adrenaline spiking through my veins. The look of pure madness in my eyes only prompts Dorian to smile once more.

“Hmph. I was only joking. But considering your reaction, I’d say I’m not too far off. Dangerous little game you’re playing, pet.”

Dangerous indeed. I purse my lips and turn away, refusing to let him see my guilt and shame.

“I don’t love you, by the way,” he adds, not a hint of remorse in his voice. “I never will either.”

“I know,” I whisper in response. Now, more than ever, I’m glad Stavros broke the link. If he hadn’t, I would have been dead the moment he woke up. Still, I feel like I’m dying right now, right here in front of him as he mocks my weakness for him. For this monster.

“And whatever you may think you know about me—whatever you have in that head of yours that paints me as a perfect gentleman—is a lie. I’m not your knight in shining armor. I’m not your Prince Charming. And I never will be.”

I close my eyes to keep my emotions in check as I utter my next words through trembling lips. “I know.”

The walls are closing in on me, and I can’t escape the bedroom and my truth fast enough. I hear Dorian laugh as I race out the exit and slam the door behind me. Then I crumple to the ground, screaming and writhing as unspeakable pain crawls up my back.

I’M AWAKE, YET I don’t want to be. So, I keep my eyes shut tight, too afraid of what will be carved into my back. Plus someone is stroking my head gently…lovingly, and I’m afraid that once I peel open my eyelids, this calming gesture that I have no right to enjoy will cease.

“Come on, baby girl,” Niko whispers as his fingers rake through my hair. “I’m here. It’s ok. I’m here now.”

Niko.

God, why did Dorian have to say that? Why did he have to fill my head with thoughts that I shouldn’t be thinking? Thoughts that would seriously keep me up at night, wondering if his words could be true. That Niko could actually be in love with me.

I open my eyes slowly, letting his gorgeous face come into view. Even with a few days of stubble, he’s still one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. Dark hair falls into his crystal blue eyes, only increasing that raw sex appeal that seems to ooze from his pores. His shoulders fall as if his body has just released two tons of worry.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Nice of you to join us,” he smiles. And it’s not one of those forced smiles either. It’s an honest-to-goodness, I’m-so-glad-that-you’re-here…with-me smile. The kind that makes his eyes sparkle as if they’ve been replaced by diamonds.

I slide into a sitting position, taking in my surroundings. I’m in a huge room, much bigger than the white room Dorian and I have—had—been staying in. The décor and upholstery is decked out in deep, dark red and black, and there’s more artwork, including many intricate portraits of a girl. Curly, dark brown hair, slender nose and full, pouty mouth. The evidence of a complex mix of heritages is etched in her fair coloring with just a hint of caramel, highlighted by high cheekbones and a shapely figure.

The way she’s displayed in the portraits exudes so much life, so much love. She’s smiling, laughing, looking at someone with a bit of playful mischief. In one, she’s completely naked, lying on her side, her eyes hooded and hungry, and a satisfied grin on her lips. I quickly turn away from that one.

She’s beautiful, exotic, and something about her reminds me of…well, me. I know who she is, but I look to Niko and ask him anyway.

“Amelie?”

He nods just once. “I’d like to think so. At least that’s how I saw her when I painted them.”

“You did these?”

Just one side of his mouth turns up. “Had a lot of time on my hands.” He grabs a mirror from the bedside and hands it to me. “Here. Let me help you.”

I can tell talking about his lost love still hurts him so I allow him to help me roll onto my stomach and lift up my shirt, even though it’s completely unnecessary. “How am I supposed to see it like this?” I ask, turning back to narrow my eyes at him. He points to the ceiling.

Ah, yes. Of course, there’s a huge mirror on the top of the canopy.

Niko positions the smaller mirror so I can see the reflection of the larger one. It’s several feet away, but my eyes can see it as if it were right in front of me.

“What is it?” I cringe, taking in the symbol opposite of the Human/Polemos one. It looks like the letter V, but with its curled ends, it’s unlike any I’ve seen.

“It’s our mark for Vampire. You saved my life, and as a result, you have been cursed to bear this atrocity. For that, I am both grateful and sorry.” There’s pain in his voice. Regret. “Baby girl, I wish I could take it away. I would do anything just to—”

I roll back over, pulling my shirt down. “It’s ok. I’m ok, Niko. You would have done the same for me, and have saved my ass plenty of times. Don’t stress. I’m fine.”

He exhales, and I imagine that he’s just let go of a tiny bit of guilt. That’s when mine finally decides to kick in.

“How’s Dorian? Did we learn anything on how to reverse the spell?”

Niko settles onto the bed beside me, and while his expression is grim, there’s something hopeful in his eyes. “Alex and I were able to tighten the wards and his restraints. Hopefully, it’s enough to hold him until we can figure out how to transport him. Because if I know my brother—and I once thought I did—I know that Aurora isn’t too far away.”

“Aurora?” Ugh. Why won’t that snotty-ass slore just find a dark hole and throw herself down it already?

“Yeah. He’s summoned her. Their physical bond is still intact, and she comes crawling whenever he calls. Those two…it’s insane. They feed off each other like a flesh-eating bacteria or cannibals. Sick, I tell you.”

A deep ache tightens my chest, and I gasp for breath. Niko picks up on the pained grimace on my face, and steels me with a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, baby girl. It’s not like that. He doesn’t love her. Shit, part of me thinks he doesn’t even like her. I mean, how could he?”

“Well, he liked her enough to sleep with her.”

Niko shrugs. “And? It’s not like that for us. We fuck what feels good. You know that.”

I raise a brow, challenging his shallow excuse. “Is that what Amelie was for you? Something that felt good?”

His eyes instantly pale at the mention of her name, frost forming at the rims of his eyes. A low snarl slips between his tight lips. “Careful. You of all people should know that some things are sacred.”

“Ditto.”

He nods, looking away. “Look, I need to go into the city. Talk to someone that may know what we need to reverse the spell.”

Before he can even finish his sentence, I’m on my feet. “Just give me a second to grab my shoes.”

“You’re not coming. You have to know that I wouldn’t let you come, right?”

“Why not?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

Niko mimics my action, but there’s an amused smirk on his lips. “Because where I’m going, people like you and me aren’t welcome.”

“Then why do you get to go?” If he thinks I’m going to back down, then he’s sadly mistaken.

“Because they know me. They don’t know you. And you’d scare the living shit out of them. Or excite them.” The prospect of the latter clearly entertains him.

“But they can’t detect me, Niko. Just tell them I’m with you or, shit, tell them I’m human and you plan to erase my thoughts. I don’t care what you say. Just know that I’m going, and if you try to leave me, I’ll do my freaky freezey thing, and shut you down before you can get two steps outside that bedroom door. And if you try to disappear, I’ll try to follow you, and you know that’ll just be more trouble on your hands.”

Niko rubs the smattering of black hair on his chin, contemplating my threats. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem angry at my bratty behavior. He’s almost sorta…impressed. “You could get someone killed. Then there would be even more blood on your hands. Could you actually live with yourself after something like that?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I nod, stepping forward to stand before him. “Niko, I’ve been powerless for so long, relying on others to save me. I’m so sick of being a bystander. Please. Let me into your world. This is where I belong.”

He huffs out faux aggravation and tips his head to one side. “Fine. But if you’re sure about this, you’ll need to be prepared.” He steps forward, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You want into my world? Just know that you can never turn back. At least not alive.”

THE STENCH OF piss and vomit cling to my skin and hair as if bile is permanently embedded in the pavement. I feel it all over me, covering me like a hot, sticky film, making it impossible to escape. Breathing through my mouth is just as bad—you can taste the rancid flavor of hundreds of corroded livers and excrement. However, breathing through my nose is out of the question with my super sense of smell. I’d rather stick my head inside a toilet bowl at The Cat’s Meow.

This is not what I had pictured of New Orleans. Sure, there’re plenty of partygoers staggering up and down Bourbon Street, but knowing that their lives could be reduced to nothing more than zombie-like cattle…it just doesn’t seem fun to me.

“Keep your head down,” Niko mutters under his breath, a cap pulled over his brow. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, complete with a leather jacket and combat boots. He’s even made me do the same, insisting I tie my hair back in an inconspicuous ponytail before shoving a hat on my head. We parked a few blocks down on Canal, opting for one of his less flashy cars—a black BMW 750Li.

“What’s with the disguises,” I whisper, as we weave through the drunken crowd.

“Look around you. This city is teeming with darkness, especially Oinos. I used to control this territory. I don’t anymore.”

Panic sets in, causing me to nearly stumble over my tennis-shoed feet. Oinos are around? I mean, I’m not surprised, judging by all the hot messes spewing their guts between flashing their boobs for beads. But it’s still pretty daunting to know that we’re surrounded by Dark.

“Don’t be afraid,” Niko murmurs, reading my thoughts. “They may have jurisdiction now, but this is my city.”

Without another word, I follow him into a filthy, narrow alley. It’s the kind they warn you to stay far away from when college campus safety officials give you a rape whistle. I keep my hands stuffed into my pockets, careful not to brush up against anything. I’d very much like to make it out of here Hepatitis-free.

We stop at a tiny, wooden door that I wouldn’t have noticed had it not been for Niko. He knocks twice, then three times in fast succession. Then he ends the ritual with two more. Moments later, a portly woman draped in a robe and scarves opens the door. She wears a colorful wrap on her head, and her brown skin is etched with wrinkles.

“I’ve been expecting you,” she says to Niko, without a hint of alarm. Not even bothering to look in my direction, she asks, “Who is the girl?”

“She’s with me.” The authority in his voice is unmistakable.

“Hmmm. She’s with you, but she isn’t yours.” The woman steps aside and holds open the door so we can pass. The moment I hit the doorjamb, a rush of energy falls over me, crawling all over my skin like fleas. I shudder, brushing the phantom infestation from my body, but of course, there’s nothing there. The woman makes a tsking sound.

“Seems there’s more to this one than meets the eye.” She searches my face, dissecting every feature her gaze can touch. “Remove your glasses, girl. No sun hangs in the sky.”

I do as she says, grateful that Niko spelled my eyes to their original state—hazel-brown. The woman snorts, clearly disappointed.

“Let’s get on with this, Claudine,” Niko says, feigning boredom. “I don’t have all night.”

Claudine tears her eyes away from mine and nods at the perturbed Warlock inside the pitch-black hallway. “Very well. She may pass.”

I force myself forward and the moment I do, I see that the hallway isn’t dark at all. It’s not even a hallway. It’s what looks to be a shop of some sort, with various trinkets and books on shelves. There are also baskets of tiny satchels on a countertop, all in different colors. The smell of incense and…something else…in the air isn’t unpleasant, yet makes it hard to breathe. Every lungful I take, I feel a bit…off. Subdued. Not like I’ve just hit a joint or something. It’s more like a tranquilizing effect.

“What is this place?” I ask, as Claudine leads us to another room that houses only a small, round table and chairs.

“Haven’t you ever been to a Voodoo shop, girl?” She has an accent unlike any I’ve ever heard. Syllables are exaggerated and consonants are skipped over completely.

I shake my head and she shrugs with disinterest. “Well, have a seat so we can get started. What brings you to my door, Nikolai?”

Niko slides into a rickety, wooden chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. “What do you know about reversals?”

Claudine’s drawn-on brows reach for her head wrap. “Reversals? I believe that’s your territory, Warlock.”

He shakes his head. “I need information on more complex spells. Not one that reverses memories. I need one that can reverse time.”

Claudine laughs, the raspy, harsh sound bounding off the walls of the small room. “You insane? My people do not know of such things. We do not hold that type of magic.”

“Ask the spirits. Your ancestors—the old ones—they may know. They will have memories of how it was before. Ask them, Claudine. It’s a matter of life and death.”

The old woman leans back in her chair, regarding Niko with an almost admiring stare. As if she may even care for him. “You serious?”

Niko’s face softens for a split second, just fast enough for her to see his sincerity. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Ok.” She turns to me, spreading her palms onto the table. “Stay or leave, girl. But decide now. Once I begin, you won’t get to change your mind.”

I nod stiffly, bracing myself. “I’m staying.”

“Suit yourself.” She takes a deep, cleansing breath and closes her eyes. I look over at Niko, but his gaze is fixed on Claudine. She begins to chant in a low voice, in a language that is beyond my comprehension. I lean forward, watching, waiting for her ancient Voodoo to fall over us.

And nothing happens.

Awkwaaard.

I’m on the verge of a snarky comment, my eyeballs ready to roll, when the table begins to tremble beneath my fingertips. An old, faded brass chandelier above us begins to sway, yet there are no windows in the room, and no breeze flowing from under the door. Before I can write it off as cheap parlor tricks, the lights go out, bathing us in complete darkness.

No one says a word. Even Claudine has stopped chanting.

That’s when I hear them.

Whispers. Hushed, frantic whispers all around us. Some full of fear and horror. Others gruff with anger. And they all seem to be talking to me.

“Spirits! Kings and queens on the other side. Speak to us. Bless us with your wisdom.”

The whispers grow louder, increasing to a low roar in my ears. I can hear their alarm, although I can’t make out their words. I look to Niko in the Dark, whose eyes are as wide as mine. Shit. This was a mistake. We may be able to disguise my appearance, but the spirits would know. What have I gotten myself into?

“She is of no consequence,” Claudine says, also hearing the shift in their focus. “Please, holy ones. We call upon you. We seek your knowledge of the forbidden forces. Without it, darkness shall eclipse our world.”

The voices rise to terrifying screams, causing me to seek the comfort of Niko’s hand. His fingers meet me halfway, curling around my palm with the same sense of urgency. I call to the place inside me—the ball of energy that pulses and heats, begging for release—praying for protection. But there’s a block; something’s keeping the magic from reaching my fingertips. Niko squeezes my hand tighter, and I wonder if he feels the hindrance too.

There’s one loud, final shriek before all falls silent. The lights flicker back on, revealing a quivering Claudine slumped over on the table. Niko quickly rushes to her side and carefully takes her into his arms.

“Claudine, talk to me. Tell me what they said. I need to know!” He gives her a little shake, yet keeps her head and neck supported. The way he handles her, I can tell he has some level of affection for her, even though her heritage—her magic—goes against everything he believes in.

“It’s happening,” she croaks, her voice strangled. She claws at Niko’s shirt, pulling him closer to her trembling lips. She whispers briefly into his ear before she falls into unconsciousness, slumping forward onto the table.

“We have to get out of here,” Niko says, stepping back from the woman. His eyes dart around anxiously.

“What? Why? What’s going on? Is she ok?” I spring to my feet so fast that my chair goes crashing backwards, causing us both to flinch.

“She’ll be fine. But we won’t be if we don’t leave.”

Niko grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room. The entire shop is eerily quiet, but even I can sense that something isn’t right. When we hit the exit that leads to the alleyway, Niko practically shoves me out, the door slamming at his back.

“What the hell was that?” I shriek as he pulls me towards the vibrant partiers on Bourbon. We veer into the crowd behind a bachelorette party. Niko presses his body into mine and wraps his arm around my waist.

“Just stay quiet until we get to the car,” he whispers. I do as he says, letting him lead me out of the melee and back out to Canal Street.

“The spirits weren’t happy you were there,” he finally says as he zips through traffic, heading for the interstate.

“No shit.”

He shakes his head. “I should’ve known they’d be able to sense you. I was careless with your life…with Claudine’s life. I fucked up.”

I look at him from the passenger side, the scowl across his handsome face bathed in twilight. Driving is seamless to him—watching the road isn’t even necessary—but he refuses to even glance in my direction. “Who is Claudine to you? I thought you hated all magic that wasn’t created by the Divine? But you obviously feel something for her.”

Niko takes a deep breath, and the frown in his forehead deepens. “Claudine has been the one teaching me about her people’s magic. She’s the one who showed me the practice of necromancy. And she’s also Amelie’s great-aunt.”

Right. Of course, she is. I can’t imagine Niko having a shred of patience for a Voodoo witch that wasn’t related to his long, lost love.

“The practice of Voodoo in Louisiana is outlawed by the Dark. They keep the shops open as tourist traps, but that’s it. Claudine is one of the last Laveaus to actually practice in the French Quarter. And in exchange for her guidance and information, I provide her with protection.”

“But do you think she can actually help us? I mean, how would she even know about the Dark and the Light? I thought anonymity was rule number one?”

We hit the ramp to the highway, and Niko takes off into the night, the BMW purring like a sated kitty. “There are exceptions, like your friend Morgan. Besides, Claudine gave us the information that we need. Now we know what we need to do to reverse the spell. As impossible as it may seem.”

“And what’s that?”

He turns to me, his hand still guiding the steering wheel while his eyes take in my confused expression. “Light, baby girl. We have to find a Light Enchanter.”

We ride in companionable silence for the duration of the journey. A Light Enchanter? Really? How the hell are we going to find one of those? Let’s be real: The Light don’t give a damn about me. And trying to make them care enough to save Dorian, a Dark Prince? Ha! We’d have a better chance of finding Waldo at a candy cane convention.

Just before we hit the gates of Niko’s mansion, he swerves onto the side of the road. Sensing his alarm, tingling heat is already snaking up my wrists.

He shakes his head. “Something’s wrong inside the house. I feel…fear. Panic. Rage. Stay here. You’re right inside the ward so you’ll be safe.”

“Bullshit. I’m coming with you,” I say, already unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Dammit, Gabs!” Niko shouts, slamming his palms on the steering wheel. “This isn’t the time for one of your little tantrums. You have no idea what we could be walking into—not a fucking clue. This is no time for games.”

I look at him with steel in my eyes, just as frost begins to form along my lashes. “My best friend and my last living relative are in there, along with the man I love. Does it look like I’m playing?”

He sucks his teeth, lips tight around a frustrated sneer. “Fine. But if something happens to you… If you get hurt…” His voice breaks and he looks away, unable to meet my determined expression. I reach out and touch his forearm, soothing his trepidation.

“I’ll be fine, Niko. I won’t let you go in there alone. We’ll do this together, ok?”

He swallows and I watch the lump in his throat move up and down his neck. “Fine. But you stay behind me. Got it? And don’t do anything unless I say. I mean it, Gabs.”

We both jump out of the car and dash to the front door, virtually silent. The door is still locked and there doesn’t seem to be any signs of a break-in. Still, it’s a huge estate. And, intruders don’t usually come through the front door. When we make our way through to the foyer, I know for a fact something is wrong.

“Morgan!” I whisper. Niko meets my wide eyes just once before placing a single finger against his lips. He points toward the great room, where the smell of fresh blood, and the sounds of sobbing are the strongest. I look up at the Warlock beside me, hoping to convey my horror. Whatever lies ahead isn’t good.

“So nice of you two to join us.” His voice greets us before he even comes into view. He’s been expecting us.

I step forward on shaky legs, but Niko pushes me behind his body protectively. “What are you doing with her?”

Dorian turns his head toward Morgan and tightens his grip around her neck. She trembles in his arms, her knees buckling, and I can see the sheer terror in her bloodshot eyes.

“My friend Morgan and I were just having a little chat,” Dorian sneers. He runs his nose along the shell of her ear, and inhales. “Now, someone decided to spell this house to keep me locked inside. And Morgan won’t tell me who did it. So here’s what’s going to happen: You’re going to lift the ward, dear brother. Or pretty little Morgan here is going to lose her head.”

“D, let her go,” Niko says, his voice level and calm. He puts his palms up as he approaches Dorian slowly, and I’m right behind him. That’s when I spot Alexander’s still, crumpled body behind the couch, his head haloed by fresh blood.

“Dad!” The word is out of my mouth, and I’m kneeling down beside him before I can stop myself. I know Niko told me to stay behind him, but it’s Alexander. It’s my father. We’ve had so little time. I can’t lose him now. Not when I’ve lost everything else.

His hair is matted with blood, and there’s a nasty gash that has split the base of his skull, but he’s alive. Why hasn’t he healed by now? Just a few feet away, partially hidden under the couch, is the Polemos dagger, the handle stained with blood. Shit. The wound is stalling his healing. And if Dorian had actually used the blade, he could have died from the very weapon that his people—our people—created. Dorian could have murdered my father.

“What did you do to him?” I growl, turning my heated glare on the man I thought I once knew. He smiles at me, his white teeth too close to Morgan’s neck.

“Just gave him a little taste of his own medicine, that’s all, pet. But this one,” he says, tugging Morgan closer to him. “This one won’t be so lucky if you don’t let me out of here.” His fingers stroke the delicate skin over her carotid.

“You don’t understand, D,” Niko says, creeping in closer. “We’re trying to help you. You’re not yourself right now, but we can help you.”

“Fuck you!” he spews. “You want to keep me caged like an animal. For what? For her? A stupid, insignificant child? You disappoint me, brother. You don’t deserve to bear the name Skotos.”

It’s in that very moment that realization sets in, seeping into me like a sluggish drug. This is Dorian. This is who he is. And there may not be anything we can do to save him. Hell, he doesn’t want to be saved. Forcing him to reform back into the man he once was won’t make him love me. He may never look at me again and flash me that sexy, crooked smile. Or kiss the top of my head tenderly while wrapping me in his arms. I may never feel the warmth and smoothness of his skin against mine, or ever feel that all-consuming fullness when he pushes inside me.

This man in front of me, his fingers digging into my best friends neck, will never again make love to me. He’ll never kiss me until my knees get weak. I have to accept that. I have to be smart enough to realize that the man I love is dead.

“Let him go,” I croak, my throat impossibly tight. Niko turns to me, his brow furrowed.

“What?”

“I said, let him go. Lift the ward. He doesn’t want to be here, and we can’t hold him forever.”

Niko shakes his head. “Gabs, we have the information we need. We can try to reverse the spell, and bring him back.”

“But there’s no guarantee that we can.” I climb to my feet, and walk towards Dorian, who stiffens at my advance. Morgan shudders in his arms as he clutches her tighter. “What is meant to be, will be. If he is my destiny, and I am his, we’ll get him back. And if not, then…”

I can’t even say the words. I know this is the beginning of the end, yet I still can’t say it. And it’s not even the fact that Dorian doesn’t love me that truly kills me. It’s because, as I look at him—seeing nothing but violence and evil within this stranger’s pale blue eyes—I realize that I don’t love him.

“Just let him go,” I say again, my voice more confident as the decision settles in my gut. I turn my back as Niko huffs out a defiant breath, but even he can’t argue. He knows it’s too late. We can’t keep trying to hold onto something—to someone—that doesn’t want to be kept.

My legs take me out of the great room, down the hall and past the white room where I once felt heaven and earth move. Away from the battle between love and hate that’s raging at my back. Away from him. Away from us.

Just let him go.

I already did.

I’VE BEEN HERE before.

Lying in bed, crying, listening to the same, sad song on repeat. The song that Dorian played for me that night in my bedroom. He couldn’t convey his feelings, so he let the music speak for him. And God…he said so many things. Things that were forbidden. Things that I let myself believe.

I could take those lyrics literally. I could stand at my bedroom window and gaze up at the moon, hoping that we were both looking at it from our separate ends of the earth. Wishing that he could hear all the things I never got to say, and in turn, that would bring him back to me.

But it’s just a song, and those lyrics were never really for me in the first place. Still, I keep holding onto how it felt to pretend. How it felt to have that beautiful lie caress me with sweet promises.

There’s knock at the door, but I pretend not to hear it, jamming my ear buds deeper into my ears. I already told Morgan I didn’t want to talk about it. But like the good friend that she is, she held me as I sobbed after Dorian left. It shouldn’t have hurt that much, especially since I knew it was coming—hell, I let him go. But finding out that Aurora was waiting at the gates, a smug smile on her flawless face? That unlocked a fresh new realm of agony.

The knocking resumes, so I roll over onto my side to face the wall, shouting, “Go away.” But even with Bruno Mars wailing in my ears, I hear the door creak open. Fuck. When the hell did Go away mean Come on in?

“I don’t want to talk about it, Morgan!” I yell into the comforter, choking on a sob. Can’t I have one day? Just one day to be a regular mess of teary-eyed girl? I know I’m not human, but shit, I hurt just the same.

The bed dips behind me, and I dig my face into the mattress deeper, refusing to reveal my bloodshot eyes and runny nose. A soft touch strokes my hair, fingers raking through loose curls, and I realize that it’s not Morgan at all. It’s actually the one person I don’t want to be here, yet the only person I’d allow to see me like this. Plus, this is his room. On some level, I expected him to come.

“Baby girl, you’re going to smother yourself.”

“I don’t care,” I croak.

“But I do.” Niko gently caresses my arm, his calming essence working its way into my skin.

“Stop. It won’t work. I’ll still feel like shit. I’ll still know he’s gone.”

“But we can get him back. We can fix him, and he’ll be just like he was.” There’s so much hope in his voice. So much misguided trust in fate.

Fuck that. Fuck it all.

I whirl around, not even giving a damn about how red and puffy my eyes must look, or the wetness around my nostrils. “You really believe that? You really believe he’ll come back to us? The Dorian that we used to know—that we used to love—he’ll come back and everything will be fine? He left with Aurora, Niko. You know the two are probably fucking right now, gearing up for some psycho killing spree. Shit, you know how he is. They probably fuck while they’re killing, just for fun! And you want me to believe that he’ll come back completely unscathed?”

“I thought this was what you wanted!” Niko retorts, his temper flaring. “You told me to let him go. I did what you wanted. Hell, I get that you’re hurt, but that doesn’t mean you give up! You don’t give up on the people you love, Gabs. Ever. You fight. You fight until you bleed. You fight until you’re reduced to nothing, then you pick yourself up and you fight some more.”

His words bring more tears to my eyes, pouring a healing salve on the wound I was allowing to fester out of self-pity. He’s right. I had given up. I was ready to turn my back on Dorian over the simple fact that he was with Aurora now. I was willing to sit back and let her win.

Niko leans over to wipe away a rogue tear, before inserting his finger in his mouth and sucking it clean. I watch, mouth slightly ajar and eyes so wide that I feel my lashes brush my eyebrows. I should be disgusted, but I’m intrigued. Maybe it’s the beast in me, but I find the gesture endearing, bordering on erotic.

Niko looks at me, blue eyes glittering against the dimness of early dawn. He doesn’t look embarrassed or ashamed, and I don’t want him to. Funny how we’re willing to indulge in all forms of acceptance, even when we can’t accept ourselves.

“Alex,” he finally says after more than a minute ticks by, as if he’s just remembered what he came for. “He’s starting to heal. Morgan is caring for him. He’ll be fully restored within the next day.”

“Good,” I sigh with relief. I didn’t really realize how much I wanted Alexander in my life until I almost lost him. Secrets aside, I really do think he loves me. He’s still a bit awkward with me, and warmth and affection are not his strong suits, but I can tell he cares for me. He just doesn’t know how to show it. It’s not in his nature.

Niko takes a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. I already know something is up. “Gabs, I need to know you’re with me. I need to know I can rely on you.”

I slide into a sitting position, wrapping my arms around my knees. “What do you mean?”

Niko scoots onto the bed, crossing his legs at the ankles. He leans back onto a mound of pillows, and I realize that I haven’t seen him stop or slow down in days. Shit, maybe a week. Fortunately, he’s still sustained by my magic, but the guy has got to be exhausted.

“I need to know that you’re down to do this. I’m willing to go on this asinine quest for a Light Enchanter, and I need to know that you’re willing too.”

I snort and shake my head, not out of disagreement, but out of disbelief. “You know, I had this picture of Dorian when he was younger…this beautiful badass that just couldn’t be tamed. I knew he had done terrible things, and I knew he dated Aurora, but this…I never expected him to be cruel. What happened to him? How could he have changed so drastically?”

Niko gives me that mischievous smirk before folding his hands behind his head. “Cyrus. Cyrus changed him. It was a freak accident—us being entitled little pricks and stirring up trouble. We thought we were invincible, yet Cyrus…he was always the more level-headed of the group. When it happened, it crushed us both. Dorian couldn’t deal—he couldn’t let him go, so he turned him. He sired Cyrus because he loved him. So it was always in him, Gabs. He just didn’t know it yet. And realizing that he could lose what he held dear, it changed him.”

“Dorian turned Cyrus?”

Niko nods. “Yeah. He did what I honestly didn’t have the guts to do. It was difficult and scary as hell, but he managed to pull it off. Cyrus wasn’t thrilled about it once the transformation was made, but he never begrudged Dorian for doing it. If it were one of us, he probably would have done the same thing.”

Dorian was capable of love. Real love. Not a spell or a link or a prophecy. Dorian changed out of love for his family.

I smile, renewed by a flutter of newfound hope. It’s small and faint, but it’s there. It’s enough to make me believe that my Dorian is still salvageable.

I take a cleansing breath, letting go of despair and taking in courage. “Ok. What’s the next step?”

“Well, my little Dark Light,” Niko answers, playfully wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me to him. “Pack a bag. We’ve got a concert to attend.”

WHEN NIKO TOLD me we were going to a concert to follow a tip, he didn’t mention it was clear across the damn country in Seattle.

Luckily, his private jet was gassed up and waiting for us on the tarmac when we arrived at the airport. Morgan was staying behind to care for Alex, who had refused to let me heal him. He wanted me to preserve my energy, especially after what went down with Niko.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmurs as we descend into Sea-Tac. I shrug.

“I guess so. I mean it’s green and all, but kinda gloomy and wet.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?” Niko replies, eyes lit up like twinkle lights.

Of course, there’s a limo waiting for us when we disembark. And of course, it is entirely too big and posh for just the two of us.

“So what’s this concert we’re going to?” I ask once the car begins to move. Niko sits across from me, pouring a couple glasses of whiskey. He hands me mine, then leans back, cracking his neck on both sides.

“Ever heard of the band The Fallen?”

I give him my best Bitch, please face and roll my eyes. “Um. Yeah. Hasn’t everybody?” Not only is the band ridiculously talented and cutting edge, but the lead singer had starred in quite a few wet dreams. Before the Dorian era, of course.

“Well, they’re playing tonight, and you and I are going.” He brings his glass to his lips, yet flashes me wink before taking a sip.

“And we’re somehow supposed to find a lead there?”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Mighty long way you’ve brought us for just a hunch,” I mumble, taking a gulp of the warm, burning liquid.

“Got any better ideas?” he retorts with raised brows.

I ignore him, turning to look out the window as we make our way downtown. Seattle really is beautiful, and while the natural benefits may be somewhat lost on me, I can totally see the appeal. The water, the trees, the almost constant downpour…it’s a Dark One’s dream. Maybe there is something mystical in this city that’ll lead us to the Light.

We pull up to the grand Pacifica resort hotel, and Niko hurriedly whisks me through the entrance, not stopping for niceties as a bellman takes our bags. I don’t even get a chance to check out the lavish digs, which seems to be boasting a Far East vibe with its rich tapestries and gold statues.

“That was rude,” I chastise, as he hurriedly leads me to the elevator and punches in a code.

“Dorian’s hotel,” he grumbles. “He hasn’t tended to his properties since you came along, but there’s always a possibility of someone keeping an eye on its patrons.”

I take a step back, hitting the wall of the elevator. “Wait. Properties? What else does he own?”

“Aside from this one, and The Broadmoor? Probably about every luxury hotel in every major city worldwide. It’s his thing—creating homes away from home.”

Dorian owns The Broadmoor? Why am I not even surprised?

I roll my eyes and wait as the elevator slows to our desired floor. “No penthouse?” I jibe, stepping into the hallway. Niko fishes out two card keys from his pocket that he never even stopped to retrieve from the front desk.

“Too conspicuous. Besides, Dorian likes to keep the premium suites for paying customers. You know that. Always the businessman.”

He slides a key card into a slot, clicking open the door labeled 1604, before entering, keeping me at his back. The room is spectacular, with a gorgeous view of the pier and Pikes Place Market. However, Niko hurriedly closes the heavy, dark curtains, then goes to check out the bathroom.

“All clear,” he sighs, running a hand through his mane. The movement causes his t-shirt to ride up, exposing a small smattering of black hair against hard abdominal muscles, drifting down into Armani boxer briefs. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and throws it on the king-sized bed.

“Um…so where are you sleeping?” I ask, a heady mix of anxiety and excitement infiltrating my bloodstream. It’s ridiculous, really. Niko and I have shared a bed before without issue.

“What? No sleepover?” He flops onto the bed, reclining back onto his elbows. From this angle, with him only wearing jeans and a tee, I can see every single flex of hard muscles. His body is lean with not an ounce of body fat on him, but there’s something about him that just makes you want to snuggle into his side and lay your head in the nook of his arm and chest. There’s not a damn thing that’s soft about Niko, but he exudes warmth and gentleness. Even with his appeal to cold elements.

“Absolutely not,” I reply, quickly turning away to hide the blush climbing up my cheeks. Yeah. Nikolai Skotos can be a teddy bear when he wants to, but I know he’s all male. Every last enticing inch of him.

He glides to his feet so fast that I don’t even detect the movement from the bed to the space right in front of me. A slow smile creeps onto his face. “Don’t worry, love. I’m next door.”

My voice is just a weak squeak when I answer, our faces, our bodies, our lips, too close to speak any louder. “I’m not worried.” Yes, I am. I totally am.

“Good.” To my relief, he takes a step back, letting the air filter back into this space that had become too intimate…too soon.

“I’ll be in the adjoining room,” he reiterates, making his way toward the door. And now, I can breathe again. “Just holler if you need me.”

“Ok. I will.” I won’t.

“Oh. And I hope you don’t mind, but I had something special brought in for you for the concert tonight. I hope you like it.” Then he’s out the door, leaving me to wonder what the hell he means by “something special.”

As I open the closet door, I realize that something special means something slutty.

Dangling from a hanger is a flimsy, little black number that is too short to even cover my ass. Hanging beside it are fishnet stockings (ew) and a leather jacket (score!). At least he’s considerate enough to ensure that I don’t completely freeze my ass off. Below the garments—if you could even call them that—are black-heeled booties with silver chains draped across them. I have to admit—they’re crazy cute. Under normal circumstances, I’d totally rock them—with a few extra layers of clothing, of course.

After a day of traveling, all I can think about is a nice, hot shower. I strip out of my jeans and tee, kicking them across the room, and letting them fall where they may. Then it hits me—no one will pick them up. No one will silently admonish me for leaving all my hair products and makeup strewn all over the bathroom vanity. And when my sheets and blankets are thrown onto the floor in a fitful sleep, there’s no one here to pick them up and tuck them over my body.

Have I really been this blind? To think that I could just pick up and move on, when Dorian invaded—no consumed—every single aspect of my life?

I’m lost without him. Utterly forsaken into oblivion. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to get up every day and not think of him. I can’t sleep without dreaming of his face. I can’t smile unless he’s the one that caused it.

This is unhealthy—I get it. Normal people experience infatuation, maybe even love if they’re lucky. Like Morgan said, this isn’t love—it’s insanity of the heart. This is a sickness. A disease.

Since the day we met, I’ve been living in constant danger, my very existence overshadowed by the mad passion I felt whenever he touched me or gave me just second of his attention. I craved his affection like I craved sustenance. And when he went away, sacrificing himself to save my life, I was starving—my heart and soul emaciated.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe this is the only way I can kick him cold turkey. Because as I stand here, naked and shivering like an addict going through withdrawal, I know that I won’t be the one to walk away completely. There’s no way in hell. He has to leave me. He has to stop wanting me.

And that’s exactly what he’s done.

Faith, little one, a voice whispers in my head. “For truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you.” Faith, child. Faith is your greatest power.

“But how can I save him,” I whisper, “when he doesn’t want to be saved?” I know that the voice will not answer. Tears roll down my face, and I quickly dash them away. Not today. Not now.

I stand in silence with only the echo of my pounding heart to keep me company. That’s a good sign. As broken as it is—as utterly shattered as I am—I’m still alive. Against all odds, I’m still alive, dammit.

I drag myself to the shower, determined to scrub away the dark haze of sorrow that covers me from head to toe. It’s not over yet. We can still save him. And if he still decides that he doesn’t love me—if he chooses the familiarity that Aurora provides—I’ll be ok. I can walk away, knowing I did all I could to save him because it was the right thing to do. After all, he never once gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself.

Just as I step out of the shower, there’s a knock at the door. I freeze, not knowing what the hell to do. Niko didn’t mention guests, and if it’s a human—if it’s one of Aurora’s drones—then we have much bigger problems on our hands.

I slip the white, fluffy robe off the back of the bathroom door and wrap it around my still-wet body. Taking a deep breath, I taste the atmosphere, trying to sense anything out of the ordinary. Dizziness doesn’t overcome me, and I don’t feel sick. Instead, I pick up on…beef. And salty, fried potatoes. And, Oh Em Geeee, creamy, frozen chocolate.

I race out of the bathroom and whip open the door, nearly taking it off the hinges. In front of me is a cart, covered with silver, dome-topped plates and a note.

Baby girl,

Figured you were starving. This food is safe.

-N

I swear, I could kiss Niko right now. I pull the cart inside my room and flip off the silver domes with a flick of my finger. A massive-sized burger—no mayo or tomatoes, just the way I like it—nearly takes up an entire plate on its own. There’s also a dish of crispy, golden fries and a chocolate milkshake in one of those old-fashioned, tall glasses, topped off with a cherry. Such a simple, sweet gesture, but it’s enough to bring a tiny tear to my eye before overwhelming hunger takes the reins and I’m digging in enthusiastically.

I can’t remember the last time I had a decent meal. Yes, I do. It was when Dorian cooked me brunch. Four or five days ago…I don’t know. Shit, I don’t even know what day it is.

I finish my meal in silence, wondering if things will ever be normal again. If I’ll ever again have a lazy Saturday of sitting around in sweats and watching movies with Morgan. Will there ever be another Sunday family dinner? Will I ever smile again because I’m happy, and laugh because I’ve somehow found joy in this world full of so much destruction and pain?

That could be enough, I tell myself. Just to be normal—even boring—could be enough. Even if we don’t bring Dorian back—even if he never loves me again. Being me—being regular, old Gabs—could be enough. It would be enough.

And for the first time, I think I sorta mean it.

“STOP SQUIRMING. YOU look great.”

I awkwardly try to stretch the dress down my thighs once again, leaning back into the buttery leather seat of the limo to aid my cause. No luck. The elastic fabric snaps right back into place, exposing every bit of my legs, and probably a little bit more at the right angle.

“Did you have to pick out something so skimpy?” I whine. “Jesus H. Christ, my vagina might catch a cold in this frigid night air.”

Niko laughs before topping off a champagne flute with bubbly and handing it to me. “Here. Relax. You look fine. Besides, your vagina is safe with me.”

I choke on the sip caught in my throat and commence to cough up a lung, which is only highlighted by the sounds of Niko’s cackling.

“No!” I rasp, my voice hoarse from nearly being murdered by a gulp of Ace of Spades. “You are forbidden from ever thinking about my vagina, let alone speaking about it. All discussions about my vagina are off the table.”

“You started it,” he shrugs. “I was only being a protective friend.”

“Sure you were,” I reply, settling back in my seat. I take another sip of champagne, and now that it’s not trying to strangle me, it’s actually quite good.

“Seriously,” Niko says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “My contact has very…lascivious…tastes. To get his attention, you need to look the part. If you show up looking like a nun, there’s no way we’re getting close enough to talk to him.”

“Why can’t you just wave a hand and get us in? Or make him think I’m half naked?” He already changed the color of my eyes, although he said it’d only be temporary. Why can’t he produce the illusion of a scantily clad harlot?

Niko shakes his head, reading my mind. “Where we’re going, the Dark will be everywhere. I’ll be deflecting. And you know I won’t be able to use. Luckily, as far as we know, you’re the only supernatural being on earth that’s undetectable.”

“Oh, joy,” I mutter with false enthusiasm. “Score one for Team Freak.”

Niko huffs out an aggravated breath, and scrubs a hand over his freshly shaven jaw. “Seriously, Gabs. None of that feeling-sorry-for-yourself shit tonight. Try to at least have a little fun.”

“Sorry.” I sink into the seat, feeling like a total Debbie Downer. So what if my life is crumbling at my feet, and I’ve lost just about everyone I love? I’ve got on killer shoes and oddly enough, I’m having a good hair day. Plus, I get to see The Fallen in concert, which has been on my bucket list for years.

The ride to KeyArena is short, even with the ridiculous traffic into Seattle’s entertainment center. Lucky for us, we’ve got a special pass that gets us to the very front so the limo can let us out. The Divine must be a woman, because while these shoes are hot, walking a mile and half from the packed parking lot is not an option.

The opening act is just getting into their set when an usher leads us to a private section of box seats, where it appears we’re the only two patrons. Seconds later, a waitress brings over an ice bucket holding another bottle of Ace of Spades and two glasses.

“Oh, yes. Very inconspicuous,” I smirk, swaying to the music.

“This is more so for safety than anything else,” Niko says, popping the top of the champagne and filling the glasses. “Besides, I thought you’d enjoy the show from here. You seemed really excited to see them.”

“Are you kidding me?” I shout over the pounding bass and guitar riffs. “This is great!” I grab a glass—my second of the evening—and nearly down it in one gulp. There’s no way I’m sitting down, heels be damned.

“Well, like I said, have fun. Real fun. None of that shit you try to put on for the rest of us to make us believe you’re ok.”

“Oh, I will,” I reply, swallowing the last of my drink. “Especially once Denny Nox takes the stage. Holy hell, I may throw my panties at him!” Cringe. Note to self: Champagne makes me slutty.

“Oh, so you’re a Nox fan,” Niko smirks, probably thinking I’m as basic as bitches come. I don’t care. Denny Nox is scrumptious from his coif of blown out hair to his rocker chic clothes. And those eyes? Holy fuck. I may have gotten off on the image of him winking alone.

“I heard he’s gay,” Niko mumbles behind me, folding a leg so his ankle rests on his knee.

“Hater,” I jibe. “You’re just mad that he probably could sleep with any chick he wanted just by opening his mouth. Myself included.” Ok, champagne makes me very slutty.

I hear him snort, but give the stage my attention, getting lost in the vibrant energy of the crowd. By the time the opening band finishes their set and exits the stage, I’m two more glasses of bubbly in and pleasantly tipsy.

I turn to Niko, my face lit up with anticipation. He smiles at my excitement, genuinely happy that I’m happy. Or at least I appear to be. And right now, I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s fake. What’s a manufactured smile and one birthed out of sincerity? Maybe I am happy. Maybe, just maybe, there is life after Dorian.

The house lights dim and the crowd goes completely insane, everyone screaming and cheering for the entrance of The Fallen. I find myself jumping up and down and screaming my head off too, the exhilaration in the room positively infectious. Niko steps up beside me, his eyes glued to the stage. Even he must be a little excited.

The lights come on again, flashing a rhythmic pattern of red, blue, yellow and green lights along with the intro to The Fallen’s latest hit. Hoots and hollers resound throughout the arena, almost as loud as the up-tempo melody. And just when I think it can’t get any more chaotic, Denny Nox and his band mates take the stage.

For the next hour and a half, I lose myself in music, letting it breathe beautiful life into my weary soul. I sing, I dance, I even get a little choked up when Denny belts out a ballad about falling apart, being at the lowest of lows, yet getting back up again, stronger than ever. I deem it my honorary theme song, vowing to do the same. Promising that no matter what may happen next, no matter whom and what Dorian chooses, I won’t let it break me. I will get back up. I will survive. I didn’t come this far to lie down and die of a broken heart.

At the end of the show, my feet are aching, I’m covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and my head is spinning from sharing two more bottles of champagne with Niko. And even though I didn’t sit down once, I feel like I’m flying. I don’t know if I absorbed the electric energy in the room or I’m drunk or what. I just know that I haven’t felt this good, this inspired, in weeks. Maybe even months.

“Come on,” Niko says, holding out my jacket so I can slip my arms through. Even though I’m burning up, I know I’ll be freezing once we hit that cold, damp air.

“Where to now?” Shit. I completely forgot that we’re actually here to work. I grab my black clutch and fish out the compact. I probably look like a hot, sweaty mess right now.

“Backstage. My connection should be meeting us there.”

“Backstage?” A fresh wave of excitement bumrushes my veins. “Do you think we’ll see the band?”

Niko shrugs and gives me a blue-eyed wink. “Probably.”

I slather on a fresh coat of red lipstick and fluff my hair, just before Niko ushers me into the crowd. We weave through hordes of gushing fans, making our way to the door marked for VIPs only. A burly door man that’s easily three times my weight, and probably a former Seahawks hopeful, asks us for our passes. Niko steps up to the much larger man, chest out and eyes trained on his.

“Here you go,” he says, just as two passes instantly appear in his hand. The guard checks them against a paper on a clipboard.

“You’re not on the list,” he gruffs.

“Look again.” It’s not a request.

The guard does as he’s told and is surprised to find our names at the very end. He waves us through, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Thought you said you couldn’t use,” I whisper as we pass more security.

“Eh. That was nothing. Not even detectable.”

We enter the bustling backstage area, and I see why Niko had me dress the way I did. The room is a smorgasbord of skin, with chicks going as far as trying to pass off a bikini top as a shirt. I roll my eyes at the pure desperation seeping from their pores. Is this what these women aspire to be? Nothing more than potential waste receptacles for a rock star that won’t even remember their name?

“This way,” Niko says, steering me away from the scene of a groupie sucking face with who looks to be nothing more than a roadie. She looks like she would be willing to do even more to get closer to the band.

I let Niko lead me down a hallway littered with a few dozen stragglers. We go straight to the door at the end, which is guarded by another muscle-bound bouncer. Niko waves a hand casually, and the man steps aside without another look in our direction. When he places his hand on the doorknob, I hear it unlock with a click from the other side of the door. When we’re safely inside the dressing room, I turn around to face him, a million questions on my tongue.

“How in the…? Whose dressing room are we in?”

Niko casually strides over to a mini fridge stocked with beer and bottled water. He throws me an ice-cold plastic bottle. “Hydrate,” he says, ignoring my question. “I need you on your game.”

I unscrew the bottle of Voss, but keep my eyes trained on the cryptic Warlock as he eases down onto the plush leather sofa. So this is Niko’s tip. A band mate. At first glance, there are no distinguishing details that would give away exactly who this dressing room belongs to. Sure, there are big, lavish bouquets of flowers, along with trays and baskets of snacks. And of course, there are the amenities: flat screen TV, stereo system, video games, etc. But other than that, the room seems pretty impersonal.

“I don’t know about this, Niko,” I say, looking around. We’re in someone’s private space. Breaking and entering was not on the bucket list. “Does your contact even know we’re here?”

“Nope,” Niko replies, folding his hands behind his head. “But he will soon.”

“And what makes you think we can trust him?”

Niko presses his lips into a tight line, but quickly recovers. “Because he’s the only one I know that hates my father more than me.”

At that exact moment, a melee of unintelligible squawks and screams erupt outside the door. I crouch into a defensive stance, fists tightened, expecting some enraged maniac to come barging in, demanding we reveal our identities. Niko, on the other hand, is completely calm and cool, his hands still pressed to the back of his head and his feet propped onto the table. I can’t tell if it’s a front or if he really is that damn confident. Still, I can’t let my guard down. Not when I don’t know who—and what—is on the other side of that door.

The ruckus grows louder, drawing nearer. I can hear the sounds of gushing fan-girls offering any and everything for just five minutes of whoredom. The booze-filled desperation is so thick that I can nearly taste it, combined with a heady mix of sweat and sex. Holy shit, it’s strong. And it’s getting stronger, so potent that I feel nearly intoxicated. My clothing feels too tight, my skin too hot. I rip off my leather jacket like it’s on fire, panting for relief, but it’s not enough. I claw at my clothes, wishing them off, but I’m still partially aware that Niko is still here, watching me with rapt fascination as I take my heavy breasts in my hands and squeeze them through the thin fabric. It feels good, but I need more. So much more.

Just as my hands slide south, fingers grazing the inside of my fishnet-clad thighs, the door flies open. I’m still touching myself as I gaze upon Denny Nox, flanked by at least half a dozen, half-dressed girls. I want to be one of those girls. At this very moment, I hate them, yet I envy them. So much so that the taste of rage coats my tongue, and I feel my body heat for an entirely different reason.

Denny takes one look at me, panting and disheveled, and Niko, reclining leisurely on the couch, and freezes.

“Get out,” he commands, his head slightly turned towards the girls hanging off him. Each woman whines and groans, damn near begs to stay, but they turn around and leave, the door slamming at their backs.

“What are you doing here?” Denny asks, the malice in his voice making him appear even sexier, causing a fresh wave of desire to hit me like a battering ram. “And who the fuck is she?”

Niko is on his feet in a blur of movement and in front of the equally gorgeous man. He claps him on the shoulder and smiles. “Now is that any way to treat an old friend?”

Denny goes completely still for several seconds before breaking into an easy smile. “Been a long time, Nikolai.” He brings Niko in for a bro hug before turning his attention on me. “And the girl?”

“Ah, yes,” Niko says, waving a hand in my direction as if I’m on display. I’m only acutely aware that my hands are still groping my own body, yet I can’t seem to care. “Denny Nox meet Gabriella Winters. Gabriella meet Daneus Deleazó, front man for The Fallen.”

I look at the two sex gods before me, hearing what Niko has said, but not fully grasping his words. All I can think about is being naked, and what it would feel like to have them naked as well. Imagining the delicious fullness of having them enter me simultaneously, Denny pushing into me from the front, Niko spreading me to take me from the back…

“Um, Denny. Mind turning it off? We’re actually here on business.”

Denny looks sheepish for just a second before flashing me a wink that’s seductive enough to make my thong melt down my legs. I groan. But then he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for just a moment, uttering a word under his breath.

I shudder, feeling like I’ve been sleepwalking for the past five minutes and was just slapped awake. I look down at my hands, one grasping my left breast, the other at the top of my thigh, and lock them behind my back, confused and embarrassed.

What the hell? Was I just touching myself? In front of Niko? And Denny? Holy shit…Denny Nox! Wait. What just happened?

“Sorry, love,” Denny says, walking over to the fridge to grab a beer. “It’s a little jarring at first, but it will wear off.” He has an accent, totally different from the way he talks in interviews on TV.

“What…what did you do to me?” I ask, still trying to collect my bearings. Denny Nox, or Daneus Deleazó or whoever the hell he is, just put some weird sexual juju on me, making me want him like a fiend needing a fix. I turn to him as he takes a long gulp of his brew. “Who, and what, are you?”

Completely ignoring me, Denny turns to Niko. “I think you’ve lost your touch after all these years. Usually your whores are the more seen-and-not-heard type. Just the same. You know I like mine feisty.”

“She’s not a whore,” Niko replies, his voice edged with threat. “And if you call her a whore again, I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to your mother.”

Denny downs the rest of his beer and pitches the empty bottle in a trashcan. He looks to me then looks at Niko, before shrugging. “Eh. What do I care? She’s quite the whore herself. My apologies.” Those piercing eyes are back on me, raking up and down my frame curiously. “So who are you, Gabriella? And why on earth has my old mate brought you here to me without the promise of a good romp?”

“I asked you first,” I reply, feeling my confidence return.

“That you did. But see, the problem is, he revealed my true name. Which tells me that you already know what I am.” He strides over, practically gliding, and stops just inches from my body. Fingering a lock of hair, he brings it to his nose and inhales. “So now, the question is, what are you?”

Niko is beside me in the same breath, plucking my hair from his fingers and gingerly brushing it behind my ear. Even in this heated moment, I can’t help the sweep of blood warming my cheeks.

“She’s with me,” Niko says, wrapping a protective arm around my waist. “And if I told you what she was, you wouldn’t last until daylight. So consider her elusiveness a favor. And in turn…we need a favor from you.”

“Oh?” Denny crosses his leather cuff-clad arms in front of him, the tattoos on his forearms stretching over tight muscle. Seeing him up close, I feel stupid for not suspecting he was Dark all along. Of course. Regular humans aren’t remotely this sexual and beautiful.

He takes a step back, sizing both Niko and me up. “And what would that be?”

Niko takes a deep breath, and I feel his body tense against my side. “We need a Light Enchanter.”

As expected, Denny bursts into uncontrollable laughter, pressing his black-tipped fingers against his mouth to control his hysterics. “You’re shitting me.”

Niko shakes his head. “Afraid not.”

Denny eases down onto the couch and leans forward, pressing his elbows into the tops of his thighs. “And what makes you think I can make that happen?”

“I know you,” Niko replies, sincerity in his words. “We go way back. If anyone would know how to find one, it’d be you. You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t absolutely a matter of life and death.

Denny glances up at me, his wild, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And the girl? How do I know I can trust her? I don’t even know what she is. She could be one of your father’s brain-dead concubines for all I know.”

I look to Niko and nod, hoping to convey my intention. I know he wants to protect me and I love him for that, but I won’t be a liability. I can’t stay hidden forever.

“I’m Gabriella,” I say, stepping forward. “But you may know me as the Dark Light.”

Before my eyes, Denny disappears into a gust of dark smoke before manifesting behind us yards away. He hugs the wall in fear, yet there’s intrigue and excitement in his voice. “Holy shit! What are you doing with her? How did you find her? Who else knows she’s here?”

“Easy, Denny,” Niko says, palms up. “She’s here because she’s a friend. And no one else knows, so you really need to chill out. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

Denny groans, fisting his dark hair as his eyes dart around the room. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he says. “You bring the number one person on your dad’s most wanted list here, and I’m supposed to supply you with the Light? What makes you even think I’m capable of that? Let alone that stupid?”

“Look, I know we’re asking a lot. But…it’s for D. Stavros reversed him, and he’s completely lost to us.” Niko breaks away from me and goes to stand in front of the other man. “Please, Denny. I know this is completely unheard of and dangerous and insane, but I need you to come through. We can’t let him win. Don’t let him get away with this again. Don’t let Dorian meet the same fate as your father.”

Denny’s eyes soften, going from Niko to me then back to Niko. “You know this is a suicide mission, right?”

“I’m aware of the possibility.”

“And you know there’s no guarantee that the Light would even give you the time of day?”

“I do.”

“And you will owe me for the next century if I get you in.”

“Anything you want.”

An almost giddy smile spreads across Denny’s face. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

WE’RE IN DENNY’S limo, since he insisted we ride with him. He didn’t want to risk us tracking the route to the location—wherever that is. Traffic is heavy due to the concert, so we creep along the rain-slick streets of the Emerald City, which will probably be the only sightseeing I get to do.

“Deleazó,” I say, my eyes still taking in the lights and sights of the city. “What does that mean?”

“Allure,” Denny answers.

I turn my head to look at him, my brow puckered in accusation. “Which is why I felt so…wrong. Like I wanted to tear my clothes off.”

Denny snorts out a chuckle. “Yeah. My apologies. Comes in handy for my career. My kind is known for their influence in entertainment, including those of a sordid nature.”

“But you’re not a royal, right?” Of all the research I had done, I hadn’t heard of Deleazó. It’s not surprising, considering that there could be thousands of Dark breeds.

“No. My family line was created centuries ago with the merging of Órexis and Apatē. Desire and deceit. I’m able to create an illusion of deep sexual need.”

So Órexis and Apatē joined houses to create an entirely new family with unique gifts? Isn’t that what Stavros had hoped to do by forcing Dorian to marry Aurora?

I turn to Niko. “What families have been spawned by Skotos?”

“None,” he deadpans.

“None?”

“None.” Niko leans forward in his seat. The shift causes a shadow to fully cover his face, making his eyes glow electric blue in the darkness. “We’re the last unsullied bloodline. Which is why we’ve ruled for so long,” he adds.

“But if you’ve never crossbred with other houses, isn’t that kinda like…incest?” I cringe, disgusted at the very thought of Dorian or Niko getting down and dirty with their cousin.

Niko shakes his head. “It’s not like that with us. We’re not…human. Our lineage is defined by its purity, not by its diversity. Stavros has been planning for the right moment and the right mix for nearly two centuries.”

“Bullshit,” Denny mutters.

“Is that why you hate the king?” I ask him. “Because he views his bloodline as superior?”

Denny laughs, but the hurt is evident on his face. “I hate Stavros because he’s a narcissistic asshole and a sadist. But I also hate everything the Dark and the Light were created for. They were almost set up to destroy one another, not create harmony. However, I’ll have to express my overall distaste for our great and mighty Divine’s perfect little creations at a later date. We’re here.”

At first glance, The Eagle looks like a neon-lit hole in the wall, surrounded by an array of characters, from twinks to drag queens to muscle-bound men in skin-tight shirts. Yes, Denny has brought us to a gay bar. Morgan will be insanely jealous. She’s like GaGa Jr. when it comes to her gays.

We exit the limo and grab a spot in line. Several guys turn to squeal over Denny’s presence, but once the doorman sees him, he waves us right through. I look around, looking for any sign that we’re among the Light, but Denny quickly ushers us to a dilapidated men’s bathroom with no stalls.

“So…we’re supposed to find what we’re looking for in here?” I ask, trying to avoid stepping on anything sticky.

“No,” Denny says, resting a palm against the damp, tiled wall. “In here.”

A bright flash of hunter green surrounds his hand, and then it’s gone, disappearing inside the wall. Denny takes a step forward, walking into the tile as it swallows him whole. It welcomes Denny’s frame as if he’s entering a wall made of pliant gelatin.

Before his face disappears into the tile, Denny turns to us and says, “Come on.” He holds out his hand, and I take it without reluctance, intrigued by what lies on the other side. I offer my other hand to Niko, who appears much more wary. However, his protest falls on deaf ears, because before he can stop us, Deny is pulling us with him through the wall. It’s cold and solid, yet it’s not, forming around our bodies like slippery cushions. It only lasts a few seconds and we’re on the other side, bathed in dim-lighting and strobe lights. Energy pulses along with the bass-filled music, fueling the hundreds of writhing bodies.

“What is this place?” I gasp, my senses on overload. Niko is right beside me, wearing the same look of awe and confusion.

Denny waves a hand around the vast, warehouse-sized room, pride gleaming in his smile. ““All those who wander are not lost.” Welcome to The Lost and Found, my friends. Home to the Divine’s fallen children.”

“WE SHOULDN’T BE here. Holy fuck, we really shouldn’t be here.”

Niko is nervous, frantic even, but there’s no way I can find the words to calm him. The Divine’s fallen children? What does that mean? That there are more people like him? Those who don’t agree with the politics of the Divine order?

Denny comes behind us to clap a hand on our shoulders. “Here, you’ll find everyone from the divine powers to vampire, werewolves and witches. We are the castaways. The rebels. We’ve refused to conform, so we’ve chosen to rewrite our destinies.”

Wait. Did he say werewolves?

Oh hell no.

“And you’ve managed to stay underground? Completely undetected?” Niko asks, although I doubt he’s barely breathed since we entered.

“There are portals in every major city in the world,” Denny explains. “We lead normal lives, keep up the front of good, little foot soldiers, fighting the good fight for the sake of our respective rulers, but it’s merely out of survival. To be honest, most of us are tired. Immortality has given us time to question some of our choices, only to see that we never got to choose at all. We’re all just pawns in a much bigger chess game. Come on, let me show you.”

We follow Denny as he weaves through the crowd, giving us the grand tour of the massive-sized club. Hordes of both Dark and Light stop to greet him fondly, as well as other creatures of the night. When their cautious eyes fall on Niko and me, Denny explains that we’re family of his from out of town, looking to find solace from the Dark king’s tyranny. And just like that, looks of suspicion turn to greetings of acceptance.

“Now that you’re all united, have there been any other people…like me?” I whisper, as Denny leads us to a private VIP section sheathed in colorful drapes. It reminds me of those outdoor cabanas in Las Vegas, minus the pool and debilitating heat.

“Oh, shit no,” he answers, shaking his head emphatically. “Consorting, let alone reproducing, means sudden death. Your parents were the example. No one wants to meet the same fate.”

I nod, diverting my eyes to the floor. I appreciate Denny’s help, but I’m not revealing the truth about Alexander. Sure, it could give others hope, but it could also put his life in jeopardy. As if we need any help with that.

A group of girls bound into the cabana, calling for Denny to come dance with them. They’re all different—blondes, brunettes, redheads—and their eyes shine like multi-colored jewels against the darkness of the club. One girl’s eyes glow an odd neon yellowish-green. I turn to Niko with a curious, raised brow, and he mouths, “werewolf.” Huh. Figures. If the Dark created vampires, then it only makes sense that the Light would have created werewolves to counter them.

“Be careful,” Denny warns quietly, climbing to his feet. “Especially with her. To some, she’s a beacon of light, proof that change is coming. To others, she is the beginning of the end. Best to keep her identity under wraps until you’ve found what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you, Denny,” I say, giving him a grateful smile. “Seriously. Thank you. We’re one step closer to finding a way to bring Dorian back.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I got you in, but you’re on your own with finding an Enchanter that’s willing to help a Dark prince, let alone two.” Then he’s gone, pulled onto the dance floor by his posse of supernatural admirers.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, once Niko and I are alone.

“That I’ve been so blind,” he remarks, his voice barely above a whisper. “And if they all knew who I was, I’d be slaughtered on that dance floor just for fun.”

“They don’t hate you, Niko,” I assure him, reaching out to take his hand. “They hate what your family stands for, but it’s not you they hate. They don’t even know you.”

He shakes head, frowning. “The things I’ve done…I’ve probably ordered hits on their loved ones, if not killed them myself. What drives someone to betray their race? Tragedy. And I’m sure I’ve caused more than my fair share of that for these souls. For what? To still not be accepted by my father? To be seen as no more than a delinquent child to my mother? Cyrus and Dorian were the only two left who saw me for what I truly am. And now they’re gone.”

I squeeze his hand tighter, causing him to meet my gaze. “Hey. We’ll get them back. And they’re not the only ones you have. I see you, Niko. I’ve always seen you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but he looks away. “Come on,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “We have work to do.”

I don’t know what we thought we’d achieve once we got in here, but winging it was clearly not a good idea. People were weary to talk to newcomers, rightfully so. And it didn’t help that they kept giving Niko suspicious looks. And me with my plain, hazel eyes and non-detectable magic didn’t do us any favors either.

Niko is working a table of Light women, laying on the charm thick as I watch, perched on a high stool at the bar. They’re eating it up, impressed by his designer clothes and the expensive champagne he’s treated them to. Apparently, most of them have been forced to abandon their riches in exchange for just a taste of freedom. So they take modest jobs out of the public eye, that don’t require them to use their powers. Using draws attention, and attention is what they want to avoid at all costs.

Denny Nox is the exception, of course. He keeps up the façade, and in turn, it’s beneficial to his lifestyle. However, he seems to be well known and respected among this crowd, especially with the ladies. I’m not surprised. Even without the super-sexual mojo, he’s a freakin’ god.

I’m working on my second club soda with lime, trying to keep from yawning, when the guy next to me mutters something that nearly makes me fall off my barstool.

“I know who you are.”

Ignore him, I tell myself. There’s no way he’s talking to me.

“And I know what you are.”

Slowly, I turn on my stool, following the direction of the deep, velvety voice. “Excuse me?”

“I know,” the man says, yet his head is turned in the opposite direction, only giving me a view of shoulder-length blonde hair. He’s a mountain of a man, yet his stylish jeans, soft leather jacket and scarf make him seem less intimidating.

As if feeling my eyes surveying him, he turns to me.

And I gasp.

He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Radiant. And Light.

His golden eyes sparkle under the dim-lighting, highlighting sharp cheekbones, deep dimples and bowed lips. I’ve only seen Light women, and while they were stunning, nothing could have prepared me for this. Dorian, Niko, Denny and even my father are extraordinarily handsome. But this man…he’s pretty. Like feminine pretty. But with his daunting frame and molten stare, something is telling me that he’s 100% man.

I shift in my seat uncomfortably, contemplating making a dash for Niko, but the man speaks again, sending a shiver down my spine. “Don’t run. You don’t want to do that.”

“You don’t know what I want,” I retort, yet I stay fastened to my stool.

“I know you want the Light’s help to save a Dark One. And I know you’re never going to get what you want, especially when you’re teaming up with a Dark prince.”

“And how do you know that?” I ask, forcing down the little quiver in my voice.

“Because I know you, Gabriella. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a little while now. And I know my kind. No one will help you. They say you’re cursed—that everyone that cares for you will die. The Light are typically sympathetic, not suicidal.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and turn away, forcing back the bubbling anger and pain. I didn’t need that reminder. I know what a sacrifice it is to be in my life. I’ve lost more loved ones since my ascension than I’m strong and sane enough to acknowledge. So I don’t need some pretty boy Light asshole rehashing all the hurt that I’ve been trying to stifle.

“However, I am anything but typical. So if you need an Enchanter, I’m at your service.”

My head turns so fast that he flinches at the sudden movement. Did he just…? “Why?”

“Because you need me.”

I shake my head in disbelief. This is just entirely too easy. There’s got to be a catch. “What do you want?”

“Ah,” he smiles smugly. “The burning question. What do I want? It’s quite simple, really, Gabriella.” He leans in close. So close that I can smell the sweet fragrance of sunlight on his skin and seduction on his lips. “Revenge, sweet girl. I want revenge.”

Niko flashes to my side, sensing the change in the atmosphere. Without drawing more eyes, he inserts himself as close to me as possible. “Problem here?” There’s malice on his icy cool breath.

The Light Enchanter smiles slyly, appearing nothing but confident as he takes in the Warlock beside me. Niko may be drop dead gorgeous, but anyone could see that he’s dangerous. He’s the Belladonna: beautiful but deadly.

“No, no problem at all,” the blonde says, returning his attention to his drink. “Unless you count your brother being lost to you forever.”

“What did you say?” Niko grits through a tightly clenched jaw. He steps in closer, mere inches separating him from his mortal enemy. Still, the Enchanter appears oblivious.

“Your brother, Dorian. He’s in trouble, correct? And you’ve been tap-dancing for those girls over there for the past half hour because you think you can seduce one of them into helping you. It won’t work, by the way. They see past your bullshit, as do I. They’re just enjoying the free alcohol.”

Niko’s body vibrates with rage, the tendons in his neck and shoulders coiling like rubber bands. Yet, when he grasps my arm, his touch his gentle, almost overly careful. “Come on,” he mutters, guiding me off the stool. I can see how painfully difficult it is for him to walk away to preserve our ambiguity. The Niko I know would have sliced that man’s neck with a flick of his wrist, leaving him to drown in his own blood.

“I can help you,” the blonde says as Niko leads me away from the bar. “I can help you bring him back.”

“And why should we believe you?” Niko sneers from over his shoulder.

“Because you have no other choice. I’m your only chance. Look around—you’re the outsider for once. Besides,” he says, sliding off his stool and striding over to us, his tall, broad frame at least half a foot higher than Niko’s. “It’s the right thing to do. It’s what my sister would have done. It’s what she did do.”

“Your sister?” I whisper, eyes wide.

The man tips his head humbly. “My name is Solaris, but please, call me Lars. My twin sister was Solara, the Enchantress who died trying to protect you.” He shakes his head and looks away, but not before I catch a glimpse of sadness gleaming in those topaz eyes. Her death is still fresh. He’s in mourning. And while my life has been total chaos since the day of my would-be demise, it’s hardly been two weeks. Maybe we’re all still grieving.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, not knowing what else to offer. I am sorry, and I feel completely responsible for what happened to his sister. And if getting his revenge is what he needs to move on, then who am I to deny him that? “And thank you, Lars. We appreciate what you’re willing to do for us.”

“What?” Niko’s hands are grasping my shoulders, and he’s spun me around to face him. “You don’t know this guy, Gabs. I don’t give a fuck about who he is or what he claims happened to his sister. I don’t like him.”

Lars takes a step forward, his daunting frame casting a shadow over us. “The feeling is mutual. But I’m not here for you, Dark One. I’m here for Gabriella. And if she wants my help, then there’s nothing you can do or say to stop me.”

Niko whirls around, pressing his chest into the taller man’s. “Sure about that, twinkle toes? Wouldn’t want you to mess up your pretty hair.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Lars retorts, his golden eyes churning into molten lava. “I won’t even break a sweat.”

“Knock it off, guys,” I whisper furiously, feeling dozens of curious eyes on us. Denny catches wind from across the room, and manifests in front of us in the next second, setting his hands on each man’s shoulder.

“Hey guys, not in here.” He turns to Lars and frowns. “You know the rules, Lars. I know your head is fucked up right now, but I expect more from you.”

Lars sucks his teeth before shrugging out of Denny’s grip and stalking off. I watch as he disappears into a dark corridor behind the bar, feeling like we just lost our only shred of hope. Defeat comes out in a heavy breath, and I fight back frustrated tears. Fuck. We were so close. So damn close to getting what we need.

“You guys have to go,” I hear Denny say. “People are starting to talk.”

I nod, refusing to look at him or Niko. I can’t. If I do, I’ll lose my shit. And that will manifest as either unbridled sorrow or uncontrollable rage. Both will expose me, and practically squelch any chance at getting out of here alive.

We quickly exit the way we came, pushing through the wall and into the dingy bathroom of the gay bar. Two men are making out by the tiny, stained sink, groping each other’s groins through tight leather pants. Another is catching the explicit act on his iPhone, pleased as punch at his friends’ drunk antics. I hurriedly brush past them, too upset to even give the scene a second glance.

“Slow down,” Niko says, as I push my way through the crowd. A drag version of Britney Spears circa 1999, complete with pom-pom pigtails and plaid miniskirt, stops in front of us to air kiss friends. I zip around their bodies, probably too quickly than I should, but fuck it—what do I care? Without Lars, we’re hopeless. We won’t get another shot like the one we had.

“Gabs, I said, hold up,” Niko shouts from behind me. I ignore him. If I answer, I’ll say something that I’ll regret. I care for Niko, and I appreciate his protective nature, but right now, I want to strangle him. And I don’t mean that figuratively. I may have come a long way, but I’m still that hot-tempered girl who doesn’t think before she speaks. I know I have a tendency to hurt the people I love. So speaking to Niko right now just isn’t an option. Not if I want him to stay in my life. And right now, when I’m struggling to hold on to just a scrap of my humanity, I need him by my side. He’s more than just my friend—he’s my family.

By the time I make it outside I’m panting, frustration coming out with every breath. I gulp cigarette-tinged air, trying to cleanse the toxic emotions roiling inside me. When a cab stops in front of me, I hop in, not even waiting to see if Niko is right behind me. Lucky for him, he jumps in on the other side before I give the cabbie our location.

“Gabs, I’m—”

“Not now.”

I hear him sigh, but I just keep looking out of the window, watching the city lights whiz past us like a smear of paint. This is what my life has become—just a blur—a smudge of black oil that just gets bigger and more troublesome the more you try to rub it out. And just when you think you’ve got it under control, the smudge spreads, creating an even greater mess, until all you see is oily blackness. And there’s no use in salvaging what is no longer a beautiful canvas.

As soon as we pull up to the Pacifica, I jump out of the cab, leaving Niko to deal with the fare. I’m at the elevators when he finally catches up with me.

“Will you just calm down for a second?” he snaps, stopping the closing elevator door with a hand. I scoot to the far end of the car as he steps in, my eyes diverted at the ground. “You’re acting like a child. You can’t just trust any Tom, Dick and Harry with an ax to grind. That could’ve been a trap to set you up.”

“But it wasn’t.” My voice is low, but it’s the calm before the storm. I know what’s coming; I can feel it. Still, I can’t even stop it.

Thankfully, the elevator stops at our floor and I race out, practically running from Niko. Running from my rage and pain. I fish out the key card from my clutch, but my hand is shaking so badly that I drop it on the floor. Niko retrieves it before I can and opens the door, holding it so I can pass. I brush by him, ripping off my coat and throwing it across the bed.

“You don’t know what his M.O. is, Gabs. You just met the guy.”

“But I knew his sister. She died trying to protect me.”

Niko takes a few steps towards me, yet keeps a safe distance. “That’s not a good enough reason to trust him.”

I finally let myself look at him, but I can’t see past the red haze of wrath. “Yet, I’m supposed to trust you? Someone who admittedly has killed more people than he can count, including the woman he loved? Not to mention, attacked and nearly killed me as well.”

The blow of betrayal is strong enough to make Niko reel back several feet, grimacing as if I’ve just physically slapped him across the face. The pain in his expression is undeniable, making my own face contort as if I can feel the sting of my own words. I’ve hurt him. But even worse, I’ve reminded him of all the reasons he can’t forgive himself.

I’m a monster.

Nikolai Skotos is one of the strongest men I’ve ever known, and I’ve destroyed him in three sentences. I really haven’t changed. I haven’t grown at all since my ascension. I’m still that ruthless, callous bitch, willing to sacrifice the people she’s closest to for her own personal punching bag.

I’m propelled to last summer, walking downtown with Dorian. He was furiously protective of me, and frustrated that he couldn’t find my attacker. And what did I do as soon as he gave me an excuse to be pissy? I hurt him. I humiliated him. I made him feel weak and useless, when in reality, he is anything but.

Something is wrong with me. I need to be stopped. If I continue like this, I won’t have anyone left. And why should I? Why would anyone subject themselves to my verbal assaults?

I move towards him, my eyes pleading for forgiveness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” I stammer, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible. Anything to erase that look on his face. “Niko, please. You have to believe me.”

He just stares at me, unblinking, as if he’s just now seeing me for what I am. As if I’ve been a wolf in sheep’s clothing this entire time, and someone has just pulled the wool from over his eyes. And maybe I am. Maybe the villain isn’t Stavros or Aurora. Maybe it’s me. People die because of me. People have had to uproot their entire lives because of me.

Silence stretches between us, pushing Niko further and further away from me. His back hits the wall, making it blatantly clear that he wants to escape this room—escape me. I want to go to him, beg for his forgiveness, but I’m afraid. Afraid that I’ve lost him forever, just like Dorian.

“Say something,” I beg. I swallow, tasting bile. I’m so disgusted with myself, that I’m physically ill. “Even if you want to yell at me, call me a bitch, tell me I’m a miserable person. Just please…say something.”

He drops his gaze, leaving me in the cold where I belong. Then in the next second, he turns towards the door, and he freezes, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I hear it at the same time he does—the squeaky wheel of a cart. It bypasses rooms 1588 through 1602, stopping at 1604. My room.

I know those three knocks are coming, yet I still flinch. I’ll never get used to the sound of bare knuckles rapping against wood. It’ll forever haunt my dreams, serving as the menacing music played in my own personal horror flick.

Knock, knock, knock.

That’s the sound of Death calling.

Niko goes to look out the peephole, but turns back to me, shaking his head. Either there’s no one there, or someone is deliberately covering the peephole. Theory number one is quickly tossed out the window when someone knocks again, announcing, “Housekeeping.”

It’s 1:37 in the morning.

It is not fucking Housekeeping.

They’ve found us. Aurora, Stavros and now Dorian, have found us. And they want to remind us that there is nowhere to hide. They’ll keep sending Death to our doorstep. They’ll keep forcing us to kill innocent kids who have no control over their thoughts or actions. They want us to surrender—to come crawling back, begging for mercy. And right at this moment, I’m not sure if that’s such a bad idea.

There’s one last knock before the sounds of muted shuffling are heard from the other side of the door. There’s a quick struggle, a crunching snap and then silence. Dead silence.

The next round of knocks takes the breath out of me, but something compels me to flash to the door and whip it open. Call it intuition or a plain stupidity. But the moment I turn that handle, I know I am twisting open a whole can of worms that only a certifiably crazy person could deal with.

Niko leaps in front of me, shielding me with his own body, even after all I’ve said to him. But it’s too late. I’ve already seen what stands just inside that doorway, sucking up space and air with his massive frame.

It’s Lars.

And there’s a dead girl at his feet.

WE MUST’VE STOOD there for a good sixty seconds before anyone regained the function of speech or movement. Then, we were merely a whirlwind of chaos, talking over each other and frantically trying to figure out what to do next.

“You killed her!” I shriek, although it’s more out of surprise than anything else.

“I had to,” Lars retorts, flinging her lifeless body across the room. She lands unnaturally, her limbs folding like a paper sack. If her neck hadn’t already been broken, it would’ve been now. “If I hadn’t, she would have killed you.”

“Why the hell are you here anyway?” Niko asks accusingly, pacing the floor. He stops abruptly, spinning around to pin Lars with his pale blue eyes. “And how did you know she was infected?”

Lars goes to the quickly cooling corpse and pulls down the beige housekeeping uniform. In bold, black ink, the word Mīsos is etched in her skin. “I followed you here. I could smell the repugnant stench of Dark hatred from down the hall.”

Niko curses, going through the housekeeping cart to rummage for clues. “Mīsos is the Dark house of Hate. They produce venom that burns through flesh and bone like acid. I suspect this girl would have had something like that on her.”

“Be careful,” I warn, wringing my hands in front of me. Niko shoots me a tight, pained smile and nods. All is not forgotten and forgiven.

“I think I found something,” Lars announces, after flipping over the body. He lifts up a plastic spray bottle with just the tip of his fingers, holding it away from his body. “My money says this isn’t just disinfectant.”

“Only one way to find out.” Niko strides towards him and lifts a hand, causing the bottle to stay suspended in midair. Lars steps back quickly, unwilling to be a subject in Niko’s science experiment.

Guiding the movements of the bottle with his hand from a foot away, Niko turns the nozzle to the dead body. In the next second, a fine mist falls over her, looking like fresh, morning dew on a peacefully sleeping girl.

Until it begins.

Her skin begins to sizzle, bubbling with horrid blisters. The sores burst and ooze blood and pus, causing fluid to run down her face. But it’s not just vile-smelling liquid dripping onto the hotel carpeting. It’s her skin. Her skin and tissue melts right off her skeleton like bloody goo, creating a smoking pile at the base of her now exposed skull.

I take off for the bathroom, the sight and smell of burning flesh conjuring the remains of hamburger and champagne from my gut. Even after I’m sure I’m completely empty, I stay planted to the floor, leaning against the cool porcelain of the tub.

“You can come out now,” Niko calls from the other side several minutes later. “Lars got rid of it and I was able to clean up out here.”

“Why did you do that?” I croak, my throat dry and sore.

“I had to test it,” he says, his voice closer. There’s a shuffle against the other side of the door as if he’s just sat on the ground and leaned against it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sick.”

“Don’t apologize. You of all people should never apologize to me. I don’t deserve it.” There’s silence, and I imagine the pained look in Niko’s eyes from just minutes earlier. “I’m sorry, Niko. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You’ve always been so good to me, and I…I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me, baby girl. Never.”

“Promise?”

“I promise on everything I’ve ever loved and lost. I promise on every star in every universe from here to infinity. I’m not going anywhere.”

I smile, closing my eyes as the cool smoothness of the bathtub soothes me into exhaustion. It’s been a helluva day. I’m not even sure how I’ve held up this long.

I’m only slightly aware of the sounds of rustling outside the door before it clicks open. Then I’m being lifted up from the floor.

“No,” I protest, covering my mouth with a hand. “I have to brush my teeth.”

“Ok,” Niko chuckles. “That’s probably best.”

“Shut up.”

He lays me down on the bed, pulling back the covers before gently folding my legs between the sheets. Through hazy eyes, I watch as he goes into the bathroom, emerging just seconds later with my toothbrush, a drinking glass and a bottle of water.

“Here. Let me help you,” he murmurs, his voice smooth and soft as silk. I try to reach for the toothbrush, but he bats my hands away. And honestly, I’m too tired and weak to fight him.

“I can do it,” I whine. But just as I say the words, I feel myself in and out of slumber.

Niko ignores me, fastening my chin between his fingers as he opens my mouth. Then I feel soft bristles covered in mint, lightly stroking my teeth and gums. He’s brushing my teeth. This supposed evil, murderous being who has seen and done unspeakable things, is brushing my teeth for me. When he’s done, he gingerly cradles my head, before inserting a small mouthful of water. I’m barely conscious when he tells me to spit into the glass, which I somehow manage to do without making a mess.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” I hear him murmur, tucking me under the comforter. The light that shines through my eyelids dims with the click of a lamp.

I’m falling, grasping onto the corner pages of an elaborate dream when I feel soft, warm lips brush across my forehead. Then, I don’t feel a thing.

THE ONLY WAY I know it’s morning is the red flashing numbers on the bedside clock. 9:03am. I slept through the night. For the first time since God knows when, I slept soundly, damn near peacefully. And I know why too. I’m just not ready to acknowledge it.

There are arms around me.

Strong, warm arms, wound around my body protectively. Holding me. Cradling me.

There’s cool breath tickling the nape of my neck in a rhythmic pattern. And when I lean back just a fraction, I brush against a rock hard wall of smooth, bare skin.

This shouldn’t bother me, and it doesn’t. This shouldn’t confuse me, but it does.

I want to stay here. I want to just stay under these covers and live in the safety and solitude of Niko’s arms. I want to remember the way he cared for me last night, and laugh at how silly I must’ve looked. And when we wakes up, his hair a messy, black halo, I want to see that sleepy smile of his, because I know it will make me smile right back at him.

But girls that just lost the love of their life don’t jump into bed to cuddle said love’s younger brother. It’s just wrong, no matter how right it feels.

I take a resigning breath before trying to peel Niko’s arm from around my waist. Just as I think I’ve got it, he tenses, pulling me in closer, so close that I can easily feel his morning erecti0n pulsing against my ass.

Holy. Shit.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs. “Stay a little longer.”

“Niko, let me—,”

“Please, Amelie. You said you wouldn’t leave.”

Amelie? Oh God, he’s dreaming.

“If you love her, you will save her.” An anguished sound cracks his voice, which comes out in a weak tremble. “Please, come back. I’m sorry. Don’t leave me.”

Niko sobs, the noise causing him to wake with a jerk. I try to stay completely still, not wanting to embarrass him.

“Shit,” he groans, rolling away from me. The loss of his body heating mine makes the room plummet 20 degrees. I turn around slowly, pulling the covers up to my chin. Niko lies flat on his back, a hand over his eyes.

“Good morning.” I know it’s somewhat contrived, considering what I just heard, but what else am I supposed to say?

“Morning,” he gruffs, his voice still strangled with sleep and emotion. He clears it, trying to rid himself of his weakness. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” And I do, actually. Much better.

“Good.” He scrubs a hand over his face, rubbing the dark stubble on his jaw. “I couldn’t leave you.”

Huh? What does he mean he—

“I didn’t want you to be afraid if you woke up alone, after what happened last night. And until I knew you were safe for sure, I didn’t want…”

I don’t miss the desperation in his voice, his words begging for acceptance. “Thank you,” I say hastily, not wanting any awkwardness to stretch between us. “Thanks for staying. I’m glad you were here.”

I watch his bare chest rise and fall, forcing my eyes to focus on the movement and not the rippling muscle of his torso. God, he’s gorgeous. Tan, smooth skin. Abs for days. And from what I just felt pressed against my ass while he was deep in dreamland, I know he’s working with some serious pipe.

FML.

“Where’s Lars?” I ask, grasping at anything that will divert my attention. Shit, I can still see his massive appendage resting on his thigh, docile yet thick with vitality.

“He had to make a trip. The spell to bring Dorian back requires some research. And where he’s going, we’re not welcome. So he’ll be back in a couple days, hopefully less. Thankfully, he’s placed a Light ward around the perimeter of our rooms. That will take care of the humans passing through with Dark magic.”

“So we’re stuck here for days?” I’m whining not because I think I’ll die of cabin fever, but because being with Niko makes me think and feel things that I don’t want to face. I shouldn’t even be entertaining this shit. And spending everyday with him, without the buffer of Morgan or Alex or even Lars, how will I continue to ignore that niggling urge to act on these insane impulses?

Niko shakes his head, his eyes still gazing up at the ceiling. “We’ll try to make the most of it. There are other ways to entertain ourselves. We just have to be creative.”

Entertain…*gulp*…ourselves? “Like?”

Suddenly, he sits up, placing his bare feet on the floor and giving me a view of hard back, roped with muscle. Standing, he grabs his discarded shirt and simply drapes it over his shoulder. “Get ready and I’ll show you.” Then he disappears through the door that adjoins our rooms.

I roll onto my back, huffing out a gutful of frustration. What am I doing? Has my ascension really made me so callous? Am I so starved for affection that I’m willing to risk what I have—had—with Dorian? I’ve never been that kind of girl to act like a complete slut for the attention of a guy. I mean, I have morals, however shallow they may be.

I trudge out of bed and stretch my limbs, realizing that I’m still dressed in that skimpy black dress, which has ridden all the way up to my waist, exposing most of my black-thonged ass. Great. As if I need another thing to obsess over.

I shower and primp as quickly as possible, anxious to discover Niko’s methods of entertainment. When I reach for my toothbrush, an unexplainable flutter erupts in my belly at the memory of him brushing my teeth last night. He was so gentle, so sweet. I felt unbelievably cherished and adored.

I shake it off, telling myself that he was just being nice, and reading into it would only make me delusional. I was the equivalent of a toddler to him, or some helpless hospital patient. There was nothing remotely sexual about being so plastered that I needed someone to help me brush my damn teeth.

Except, I wasn’t drunk. And after he tucked me in and ensured our safety, he climbed into bed with me, pressing my mostly bare ass against the erection straining underneath his slacks.

This is so fucked.

I’m bent over, pulling on my comfy, fur-lined boots when a pair of jean-clad legs appears out the corner of my eye. “Holy shit!” I shriek, clutching my chest. “Don’t do that! You scared the crap outta me!”

Niko smirks, the devil in him snickering at my fear. “Well, hopefully, by the end of today, you’ll be able to do the same thing.”

“For real?” Learning how to manifest from one place to the next, even over long distances, would be freaking insane! If had had that skill a week ago, I could have been there for Jared. Hell, maybe even for Donna.

“For real. Now you’ll have to hang onto me for the first leg of our journey, but coming back, you should be able to make the trip independently.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He closes the space between us, and before I can protest, his arms are wound around me for the second time this morning. I look up into those crystal blue eyes, seeing the reflection of longing in my own expression. “Hold on,” he whispers, his breath stirring the curls around my face. Then we’re gone, transported into obscurity.

A bout of vertigo causes my legs to wobble like Jell-O, even though this time was a much smoother journey than the times before. Niko supports my weight, holding me tight against his chest, while I take a minute to collect my bearings.

“You’ll get used to it. Deep breaths, baby girl. It’ll pass.” He strokes my hair, refusing to let me go until I’m able to stand on my feet without wobbling.

“Thank you,” I say, my cheeks hot. When I step away, I see that we’re at the edge of a lake, encapsulated by a wall of tall, lush trees. “Where are we?”

“Green Lake. I was able to…persuade…the local occupants to keep their distance for a while. We’ll have some privacy.”

I smile, taking in the rich greenery and listen to the sound of a light breeze rustling a thousand little leaves. The sun just barely breaks through heavy, grey clouds, yet it’s enough to make me raise my face to the sky and soak in the vitamin D. The Light in me craves this. I needed to be outside, surrounded in the splendor of nature, to recharge my batteries. And as the scent of fresh water and foliage fill my lungs, I feel as if I’ve finally found peace. This is my little slice of nirvana.

“Like it?” Niko asks quietly, after giving me several minutes to take it all in.

“I love it,” I breathe, feeling as if I can’t take in enough fresh air. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He tips his head. “I wish I could say it was solely for relaxation. Actually, we’re here to work. You want to learn how to use, and there’s a likely chance that Dorian won’t give in without a fight. It’s time you learned how to protect yourself, and manipulate that power inside you.”

“But I thought there were no spell books or things like that?”

“There aren’t.” Niko strides to me, leaving mere inches between us. “It comes from here,” he says, touching my forehead. His other hand goes over my heart. “And from here. You’ve always had it inside you. You’ve just been too afraid to let it out.”

I don’t realize that I’ve stopped breathing until I feel like I may burst with the need for oxygen. Niko takes the hint, and backs away, taking my hand instead. “But first, we dine. You need to have your strength before I work you.”

Just beyond a grouping a trees there’s a little clearing where Niko has placed a blanket and a basket of food. A knot forms in my throat as I let him lead me to it, thinking of the time Dorian took me to the park for a picnic. He always made the simplest things seem so grand and special. It was the perfect day. And now that I’m here with his brother, all I can think about how I’ll never be able to accept another man without comparing him to Dorian. I’ll always think, Dorian did it first. Or, I liked it better when Dorian did it. And while I’m perfectly happy and grateful to be here with Niko, I know that any man I choose will only get half my heart. The other half will forever belong to someone else.

I sit on my knees as Niko pulls out a few pastries, savory croissant sandwiches, yogurt parfait and, my favorite, Starbucks. Obviously, not having coffee in Seattle is like a cardinal sin or something.

“Thanks. This looks great,” I say, going for a huge cheese danish, thankful that my supernatural mojo somehow makes calories not count. Niko hands me my cinnamon latte before grabbing one of the sandwiches.

“No problem. I raided a nearby bakery and grabbed the coffee while you were still getting ready. Figured you’d be hungry. Hope it’s still warm.”

I take a sip and let out an X-rated moan. Oh, sweet manna from heaven! “It’s perfect.”

I hear Niko clear his throat before he turns his head to busy himself with his own meal. Is that a… Is that a blush?

I laugh inwardly and try to cut the awkwardness with easy conversation to pass the time. When we’re both full, Niko takes me back out to the edge of the water.

“Walk on it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Step out onto the water.”

Did this dude say what I think he just said? “You do realize that I can’t turn water into wine, right? And that I’m not sporting a robe and sandals?”

“Seriously, Gabs. Step out onto the water.”

“Was Bruce Almighty on TV last night? Because I love that movie too.”

“Gabs.”

“Niko.”

Niko sighs, already exasperated. “Be serious, Gabs. If it weren’t possible, I wouldn’t waste time trying to teach you. Now get your ass out there on that lake or I will push you out there.”

I scoff at his attitude and roll my eyes. “Rude.” Yet, I find myself scooting to the water line where soft waves touch the tip of my boots.

“Now close your eyes and visualize that the lake is not water at all, but a glass floor. You know it’s solid—it will support you—but you must be gentle with it. It’s delicately beautiful, and you don’t want to break it. And you won’t. You’re light as a feather. Weightless. Effervescent.”

I do as he says, visualizing every word that passes his lips. I’m floating, completely unburdened by gravity. I’m merely a whisper in the wind. An apparition.

“Now open your eyes, Gabs.”

I do, and when I take in the scene around me, I gasp so loud that it echoes through the trees. I’m on the lake. On the lake! I’m standing right smack dab in the middle, yet I’m completely dry.

“How did I...How can this…?” I’m tripping over my words, too exhilarated to complete a single sentence.

“Magic,” Niko smiles, appearing right beside me. “It’s in you. You were just too afraid to let it out.” A reaches a hand towards me and threads his fingers through mine. “Come on, let’s walk back together.”

I practice walking on water a dozen more times—once more with Niko and the others solo—before I have it mastered. Impressed, Niko has me work on manipulation. I’m able to raise the water a few feet above my head and hold it for nearly 30 seconds before my connection slips.

“You’re over-thinking it,” he says. “That water is a part of you. An appendage. Raise it like you would raise your arm. Do you look at your shoulder and ask it to work? No! You just do it. So come on, let’s try again.”

After an hour and a few more tough love pep talks, I’m finally able to get the water to bend to my will. Wanting to keep that intense feeling of momentum, we move on to solid objects, first starting with leaves, then twigs and branches. Even the heavier objects seem completely weightless. Yet, the moment I let myself think about how huge and hefty they should be, I lose the connection and they come crashing down.

“Fuck!” I roar, as a large branch smashes to the ground. I wipe the sweat from my brow and grit my teeth in frustration. I was able to hold that one for over a minute. “I had it. I fucking had it. What am I doing wrong? You told me not to think, so I stopped thinking. Why the hell can’t I make it do what I want?”

Niko shakes his head before coming to stand beside me. His gaze still trained on me, he gracefully lifts a hand, manipulating the giant branch to rise with the movement. It’s so easy for him, so seamless. Hell, he doesn’t even need to look at it. He sets it down just as gingerly and takes my face in his hands. “You’re forcing it. You’re doing this out of frustration and anger. What did I tell you that day when we watched Dorian extend the ward? Magic is delicate. It’s sensual. You must seduce it to make it come to you. Would you force a lover to please you? No, of course not. You would caress it. Worship it. Make love to it. Take it inside you and gently exhale as if you were blowing out a candle. I know you can do it, Gabs. Your heart is just broken right now, so you can’t imagine how you would channel those feelings. But there has to be something else you feel passion for.”

Passion.

Something I didn’t think I’d ever inherit again. So much so that the very word sounds foreign. Passion. Of course, I know I’m still capable of feeling it. But for what? And for who?

I step out of his hold and busy my mind with projecting all the confusion and restlessness I’ve felt these past day I’ve spent with Niko. How his body entices me. How his words challenge me. How that look he gives me…scares me. Not because I find him vicious or menacing. But because I’m afraid of what I’m beginning to feel for him. Or maybe it’s what I’ve felt all along. I just had Dorian to eclipse it.

As I raise my hand in a fluid motion, the branch moves with me, dangling in midair as if it is a feather carried by the wind. I don’t feel its burden. I am not strained with the task. It’s a vital part of me. Just as Niko has somehow made himself a vital part as well.

We’re lying in the grass several minutes later, sipping bottled water, when I turn to him and say, “Do you really think Dorian will fight us? Even you, his brother?”

He shrugs, gazing out at the water. “I wouldn’t be surprised. We were taught that surrender is weakness, and weakness is disease. Skotos’s fight until we’re dead, for all things we hold dear and precious.”

I nod, taking a moment to listen to the song of the wind whistling through the trees. I once had someone to fight for me like that. Someone who vowed to protect and love me until we both perished into earth. And now…now I don’t know if I’ll ever get him back.

“You don’t think that I’ll do it, huh?” I ask, my voice just barely a whisper. “You don’t think I’ll be able to fight him.”

“I don’t think you’ll want to fight him. There’s a big difference between ability and desire. It’s understandable that you would want to avoid hurting him.”

“And you?” I ask, turning my head to face him. I know he can feel my eyes on him, yet he keeps his gaze trained forward. “Will you try to avoid hurting him? Will you be able to fight your brother?”

I watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, contemplating my question. “If it comes to that, yes. If it came down to my life or his, I would do what it takes.” His eyes are on me in the next instant, full of blue fire. “And you’d be wise to do the same. Because he will hurt you, Gabriella, if given the chance. He won’t hesitate. Your life means nothing to him. And if killing you is all that stands between him and his agenda, then you’re already dead. Remember that when you see him. And don’t let your petty emotions let you forget it.”

I can only hold his gaze for a few seconds before I’m forced to look away in an attempt to hide the tears collecting in my eyes. I know he’s saying this to help me—to protect me—but why must he be so cruel? I get it—Dorian is gone. He doesn’t love me. But does my weakness for him disgust Niko so much that he can’t just show a little compassion? A little sensitivity?

I jump to my feet, with a renewed sense of determination birthed from anguish. “I’m ready to go again,” I mumble, brushing debris from my jeans.

“Gabs…”

“Again. I don’t want to sit around talking about this shit anymore. So either help me, or don’t. I really don’t care.”

I hear him exhale heavily behind me, his breath stirring the sweat-dampened hair on the back of my neck. “I don’t want you to hate me,” he whispers. “I could never want that. But I’d rather have you alive and pissed off at me, than dead because I told you what you wanted to hear. My words are out of necessity. Because you are necessary to me.”

I turn around to face him, eyes narrowed, because I could not have possibly heard him right. But his resolve doesn’t falter. He doesn’t backtrack or stammer to explain himself. He doesn’t take it back.

And I don’t want him to.

“Come on,” he finally says, taking my hand. “Let’s go again.”

We practice until I’m able to lift giant logs with the simple twitch of a finger. And when I’ve exhausted moving everything that isn’t rooted to the ground, Niko tries to teach me the art of phaneróō, or manifestation. We start slow, working on meditation to center myself. Although I’ve been able to do short distances in the past, it was totally sporadic and unintentional. Niko explains that trying it without proper focus could have me stuck in limbo, lost in a completely different dimension. And if I don’t know where I’m at, it’s almost impossible to come back.

“Ok, try from here to that tree over there,” he instructs, pointing at an Elm a few yards away. “You can see where you’re going; you know what’s there. Now, visualize the location in your mind and transport your thoughts there.”

I take a deep breath, following his directions to a T. Letting my eyes flutter closed for just a second, I envision standing under the great Elm, leaning against it, laughing as Niko stands beside me…

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

I open my eyes to see Niko’s smiling face. He looks up, urging me to follow his gaze. We’re under the Elm tree. And I’m not just standing under it—I’m leaning against it. And Niko is right beside me, pride and wonder shining in his eyes. And I laugh, a real, genuine, soul-cleansing laugh, just like in my vision.

It is amazing. Life—right now, in this moment—is amazing.

I go from only being able to manifest from a short distance, to teleporting myself across the lake. It’s exhilarating, and the more I do it, the better I get. To know that in one breath, I can be in one place, then miles away in the next…it’s incredible. Hell, I may not ever walk again.

“We better head back,” Niko says, as we watch the sun begin to settle behind the mountains. I turn to him, my expression apprehensive, but he quickly gives me a reassuring smile. “You got this, Gabs. You can do it. But the best part is, you don’t have to do it alone.”

His fingers slide against the inside of my palm before threading through mine, grasping onto me. Refusing to let go. “I’ve got you. And if I feel your hold slipping, I’ll catch you and lead us to safety, ok? You can do this.”

“But what if I…” My voice is small, my lips almost trembling.

“No buts. I don’t want to hear that. You can do this. I believe in you.”

I nod, trying to draw strength from his encouraging expression. Closing my eyes, I imagine we’re both in my hotel room at the Pacifica. The sun has set and the curtains are drawn; yet there’s soft light filtering in form a bedside lamp. I’m standing at the foot of the bed. Niko is beside me. He looks at me, and smiles crookedly. I can’t help but do the same…

Thick arms are banded around me, crushing me to a hard chest. It smells of an ocean breeze and rainwater. I inhale, letting euphoria stir inside me.

Niko gasps, feeling the pull from his body. I step back, terrified of what I’ve just done. I breathed him. Unintentionally, of course, but I did. I pilfered his magic without asking.

“Oh my God,” I shriek, my hands over my mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I was just so caught up in the moment, and happy, and I completely—,”

Niko smiles and shakes his head, his palms raised. “Not a big deal. Honestly, I hardly felt it.”

“But I took from you. Without your permission. Oh my God, I swear—,”

He’s right in front of me, cradling my face in his hands. Tilting my chin so my eyes align with his. “Gabs, it’s fine. Honestly. You’ve had a long day. It’s easy to get caught in the moment.”

My gaze sweeps over the movement of his full lips, and I imagine what they’d feel like against mine. How they’d taste after being wet by his tongue. Oh God, now I’m thinking about his tongue.

“You must be exhausted,” he says stepping away. He turns for the door that connects our rooms, and I suddenly feel panicky. “I can have some food sent up for you, if you like.”

I shrug. “Sure. I guess so.” I’m not even that hungry. Not when my stomach keeps stirring like it’s doing a Zumba routine.

“Ok,” he nods. “You did good today, Gabs. And you’ll keep getting better…stronger. I’m proud of you.”

“Had a good teacher,” I smile.

Niko dips his head in a goodnight, and exits the room, leaving me alone with my insane thoughts. I decide to take a nice, hot bath, hoping it will drown my rising confusion and shame. Yet, as I soak in the bathtub, I can’t honestly see what I have to be ashamed about. Dorian is gone. There’s no guarantee we’ll get him back. And he’s probably fucked Aurora fifty-eleven different ways by now.

Still, that’s not even the worst part. He’s evil. E-V-I-L. And as psychotic as his dad. Can I really excuse all that? Can I honestly forget everything he said to me, even though he wasn’t himself?

Or was he?

I sit in the bath until the water turns cold with my iPod on blast. I’ve traded Bruno Mars for Linkin Park today, needing a reprieve from the sad and sulky lyrics that had rocked me to sleep most nights. And honestly, I don’t really think I need them anymore.

Yeah, shit sucks. My mom is dead. Chris doesn’t know me. Jared is gone. I can’t go back home. And Bad Dorian has run off with Aurora. Shit really, really sucks.

But I have Alex, the father I thought had died before my birth. I can confide in Morgan, something I had never been able to do before. I found out about a secret, underground community of supernatural beings through Denny Nox. I met Lars, a Light Enchanter and Solara’s twin brother, and he wants to help us. And I’ve got these amazing, badass abilities that I’ve just barely tapped into.

And then there’s Niko. The man that’s been by my side the entire time. The guy that never pushed me away or gave up on me, no matter how annoying I was. He became my rock when I needed someone to lean on. He became my sunshine when everything seemed bleak.

So, yeah, shit sucks. But it doesn’t. Not entirely.

When I step out into the living/bedroom area wearing nothing but a big, fluffy, terrycloth robe (which I fully intend to steal when we blow this joint), there’s a room service cart sitting in the middle of the room. Now, usually, the sight of these things would invoke instant fear, but I can already see familiar scrawl on a little notecard, propped against a single pink rose in a slim vase.

Baby girl,

You did great today. Hope you enjoy.

Call me if you need me. I’m just a door away.

-N

I smile, and hold the small, white cardstock to my chest. Then I lift one of the silver domes to reveal a beautiful filet mignon aside baby carrots and whipped potatoes dressed with parsley. Another covered dish houses a mammoth-sized lobster tail, while another holds a huge slice of chocolate cake. I squeal with glee, picking up the plates and shuffling them to a small round table. Everything is delicious, of course. But as I take another bite of buttery lobster, I can’t help but feel like something is missing. Something is just…off.

I finish my meal—less enthusiastically as I started—and decide that I just must be tired. It’s been an exhausting day, and using so much probably has taken a toll on my headspace. After raiding the mini fridge for a tiny bottle of wine (goodbye two buck Chuck!), I curl into bed, still wearing the comfy bathrobe. There’s a movie on VH1—Purple Rain, Morgan’s favorite. Sorrow pulls at my heart as I realize how much I miss my girl. Damn, I wish I still had my cell phone. It’d be so good to hear her voice. But since we’re technically on the run, maybe it’s best that we don’t have any contact. I wouldn’t want to lead anyone to her and Alex.

I’m watching Prince try to convince Apollonia to purify herself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka, when a sudden ache of loneliness twists in my gut. Why am I sitting over here, sipping $10 mini bottles of wine and feeling sorry for myself, when I have someone right next door? Someone that I actually like and that, hopefully, still likes me too? And it’s not like things are weird between us—anything but. Niko has always been the less intense of the Skotos brothers. We’ve always had an easy friendship, even when things around us were anything but. So there’s no reason why I should feel weird about hanging out with him. Isn’t that what we’ve always done? Even when I was obsessing over his brother?

I rip the covers off and glide to the door, feeling bold off two overpriced bottles of wine. Yet, when I reach it, doubt and confusion keep me from rapping on the door. I’m in a bathrobe, my hair is in a messy knot on the top of my head, and I’m probably sporting an epic, red wine-stache. But even more than that, there’s a good possibility that Niko wants to be alone. He’s been babysitting me for days. Maybe he was grateful to put some space between us tonight.

I release a heavy, resigning breath, deciding to just call it a night, but before I can turn around to return to Prince, the door opens.

And there stands Nikolai Skotos. Shirtless.

And I realize exactly what was missing.

“EVERYTHING OK?”

The look on his face boasts curiosity and concern, while I must undoubtedly look like a deer in headlights.

“Oh…um…I…”

“Was something wrong with your food? Are you feeling ok?”

He swiftly moves past me into my room to check it out, and I get a whiff of soap and male, mixed with his natural ocean scent. His black hair is still damp from a recent shower, and he’s wearing nothing but silk pajama bottoms. I can’t even be sure there’s anything under them either.

“Gabs?”

Only when my eyes are forced to travel up his body to meet his worried gaze do I realize that I had been studying his abs. God, his abs. People make body casts of abs like his.

I swallow and lick my lips, my mouth suddenly the consistency of sandpaper. “Oh, I…I was just going to see what you were doing.”

“Oh?” He frowns in confusion. “I heard you sigh. You sounded…frustrated. Or upset. Are you sure everything’s ok?”

Damn him and his super hearing. I give him a manufactured grin, and nod my head toward the nightstand. “Out of wine, is all. Got anymore?”

He studies my face for a beat, searching for…I don’t know. Then he turns toward his room, emerging just seconds later with two mini bottles of Cab, and one of whiskey.

“So what are we watching?” he asks, making himself at home on the bed. He unscrews the tiny bottle and takes a sip.

Um, hello? Does he not realize that he is nearly naked? And on my bed? Where I sleep?

I open a bottle of vino and gulp it down. I may need something stronger if I’m going to make it through this night.

“Purple Rain,” I reply, going to slide onto the other side of the bed.

“Purple Rain, huh? Prince is…quite the character.” He flashes me a wink, causing my eyes to bug out of the sockets.

“Don’t tell me, he’s Dark!”

Niko shrugs, a sheepish smile on his lips. “Hey, I told you we were everywhere. Come on, look at the guy. He’s supposed to be in his fifties now, yet he doesn’t look a day over thirty. Can you really not tell?”

Come to think of it, Prince is pretty much a freak of nature in the good genes department. Morgan will be floored!

“But his eyes…they aren’t blue.”

“Parlor trick. I changed yours easily enough the other night.”

“And who else is Dark? Anyone I know?”

Niko twists his lips to the side as if he’s thinking. “Hmmm…who is at the top of the charts right now?”

“Beyonce, Katy Perry, Pharrell, Maroon 5.” The Fallen as well, but I already know the deal with them.

“There you go.”

My jaw hits the floor. “All of them?”

“All of them.”

“Holy shit.”

Niko laughs before taking another swig from his bottle. “Of course, you can’t go blabbing that around town. Back in the 70s and 80s when heavy metal was at its peak, our kind could be a little more flamboyant and take a few more liberties. Now with paparazzi on every corner, we need to maintain a bit more anonymity.”

“Understandable.” I sit up excitedly, taking extra care in positioning my legs as to not expose my bare lady bits from under the robe. “You have to tell me…what about movie stars? There’s got to be tons of Dark Ones in Hollywood.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Who’s your favorite?”

“Uhhh…Angelina?”

“Dark.”

“But what about Brad Pitt?”

“Human.”

“And that’s ok? Like, your father allows it?”

“It’s not unheard of,” he shrugs. “It happens. Just not necessarily for us.”

“You mean Dark royalty.”

Niko nods then gulps down the contents of his bottle. I can see that bit of his history irks him.

“I think I could totally pull off the rock star image,” I say, hoping to lighten his mood, and make him forget whatever memory still haunts him.

“Why do you say that?”

“Come on, party all day and night. Be drunk and obnoxious. Get into embarrassing brawls in public places. Hell, I’m practically halfway there!”

Niko chuckles, the task causing the muscles in his torso to tighten under deliciously tanned skin. I pretend to laugh too, just to act as a cover for my blatant gawking.

“Hey, want another?” I ask, bounding off the bed towards the mini bar. Yup. I’m gonna need something stronger.

“Sure.”

I grab another bottle of the Irish whiskey he’s drinking and a cutesie, baby bottle of Patron. It’s totally a bad call, being that tequila makes my inner slut bust out into the splits, but hey, it’s only a tiny bottle. What could it hurt?

I jump back on the bed, giggling like an idiot for no apparent reason. I toss Niko his drink, which he unscrews. “Cheers,” I say, holding up the petite jug of liquid fire.

Niko goes to tap my bottle, but stops short. “What are we toasting to?”

I take a second to mull it over, skipping over all the bad shit that’s happened and zeroing in on the bright spots. The times that invoked peace. The small victories that gave us hope.

“To new beginnings.” For me. For him. For us.

Niko gently clinks his glass with mine. “To new beginnings.”

THREE PATRONS, FIVE whiskeys, four bottles of red wine and one disgusting shot of vodka later, and we’re drunk. At least I am. Sorta.

I mean, I’ve had plenty to drink, but I honestly feel fine, if not a little warm and a bit overly enthusiastic. Niko is telling me about one of his rebellious stages in the early 1900s, and I’m hanging onto every word, fascinated by his interpretation of a time that I had only read about in history books. He speaks with such excitement, moving his hands animatedly, as he describes the fashion, the architecture, the art. He tells me about the hordes of women that would climb into his bed at night, which led him to the idea of opening the most revered brothel in New Orleans.

“And the girls were actually ok with it? Selling their bodies?” I ask, engrossed in the story.

“Ok with it? We had a waiting list a mile long of girls who wanted to work there. We took care of them—gave them a life they could only dream of. And of course, we had a strict selection process, which included rigorous health screenings. They lived more than comfortably for something they would have done for free.”

I shake my head, a playful smirk on my lips. “Nikolai the pimp. Please tell me you didn’t wear purple leisure suits and big, zebra-print hats.”

“Only if they were paired with platform-heeled boots.”

“No!” I shriek, cackling like a hyena. “Oh God, tell me you have pictures!”

Niko laughs right along with me, wiping tears from his eyes. “No, no. No purple suits. Maybe orange or sky blue. But I never rocked the purple.”

I smack him on his bare arm jokingly, my hand, no doubt, absorbing most of the sting. “Ouch! Jesus, are you made of steel?”

Niko lifts a sly brow. “Maybe some parts.”

Rolling my eyes, I flop back on a mound of pillows. “Sure, sure. I swear, what is it with guys and their obsession with their penis? Every guy thinks he’s packing the big guns, but when you get it, it’s more like a pocket pistol. Pew pew!”

“I’m not obsessed. Just honest,” Niko remarks, settling back onto the pillows on his side of the bed. His. Side. Of. The. Bed. Oh God, is that a thing now?

“Honest about…?”

“I have a big dick.”

I nearly choke on my own spit. Holy hell. I’m trying to collect my bearings, trying to come up with a snappy retort, but I can’t think over the sounds of Niko’s smug laughter. I could have done without that bit of information. But now that it’s out there, floating around in the universe, I can’t not think about it.

“What the… Did you just...?” I sputter, waving my hands like a chicken on crack.

“Well, you asked,” he shrugs.

I shake my head, hoping it’ll disperse any future thoughts of Niko’s pride and joy. “Ok, I need a drink after that.”

He holds up a half-finished, mini bottle of Stoli. “I think there’s more vodka.”

“Oh hell no,” I cringe. “I’d rather drink lighter fluid.”

I jump off the bed and bound to the min bar, which is looking pretty pathetic. I snag a little Disarrono. “That’ll do, donkey,” I mutter, twisting off the awkward top, and not paying attention. And of course, I epically stub my baby toe on the room service cart from earlier.

“Mother of fuck!” I scream, hopping around. “Holy fucking shit!”

Niko flashes to my side in an instant catching me before I hobble over. “Are you alright?”

“Ah, fuck! It’s broken. I know it’s broken. It’s hanging off my foot, isn’t it? There’s blood probably squirting everywhere.”

“Let’s set you down.” And without notice, Niko picks me up like I weigh nothing, and carries me to the bed, laying me down as gently as he did last night.

“Alright, let me have a look,” he says, placing my foot in his lap for further inspection. I feel his cool fingers on my toe, but it doesn’t hurt. Instead it becomes cold, as if he’s made himself my own personal ice pack.

“How is it?” I ask, my voice meek.

“Not broken. And no blood squirting everywhere. And I’m happy to report that it is still safely attached to your foot.” He purses his lips as if he’s trying not to laugh.

“Shut up!” I exclaim, which puts him in hysterics. “That hurt like a bitch!”

“Awww, come here,” he jokes. “Does the poor, little Dark Light have a boo boo?”

“Jerk.” I try to pull my foot away, but he keeps it fastened to his lap, still caressing my toe with a cold finger. After a few seconds, I relax under his touch and let him work his magic.

“How does it feel now?” he asks, all humor gone from his voice.

“Good.” I’m only acutely aware of the huskiness in my tone.

Niko slides his hands to the sole of my foot massaging it with perfect pressure. I nearly melt right there like a pile of slush. “And how’s this?”

“So…good.”

Moments later, he’s kneading my ankle, his touch fanning out to my calves, which are still a little sore from last night’s killer heels and today’s workout. I moan reflexively, feeling the tense knots of muscle loosen.

“Still good?”

“Yes.” There’s so much…need…in my voice. It scares me, but I don’t stop him.

His fingers caress the space under my knees, causing tingles to jet up my spine. His touch is light, careful, as if he knows it’s a sensitive erogenous zone for me. I mean to straighten and sit up, yet I end up arching my back. The shift causing Niko’s hand to land at the inside of my thigh.

I look at him.

He looks at me.

I don’t even have the chance to freeze time and think it through a second longer.

He’s crawling up my body at the same time I’m leaning into him. When his lips cover mine, I’m stunned at the softness of them and the gentleness of his kiss. Niko, with all his brash humor and brutal honesty, I expect it to be like kissing an untamable force of nature. But he’s so tender, so careful. As if he’s planned the way he’d kiss me. As if he’s thought about this moment for days, replaying the scenario in his head as he lays awake at night. Yet while his kiss is reverent, his touch is commanding. His fingers are gripping my back through the terry cloth, then fisting my hair. Like every bit of restraint he is practicing on my lips is let loose through his hands.

I pull him down on top of me as he pushes me into the fluffy, down pillows. I absorb his weight, feeling so safe, and so secure with his body settled on top of mine. My legs part to welcome him into the softest place on earth, cradling his silk covered hips. His kiss doesn’t even falter. His tongue—sweet with alcohol and him—continues to slide against mine rhythmically, tasting my mouth. Drinking me in like a heady elixir.

My hands slide up and down the smooth skin of his back, feeling the muscles tense and strain under my fingertips as he tries to get closer. And I want him closer. I want his skin on mine. I want his heartbeat to pound against my chest. I want to inhale his breath and drink his lust.

I want this man. I want Niko. And I know it makes me sick and awful and desperate, but I don’t care.

My need becomes his need, and he’s ripping away my robe, exposing my heavy breasts. He pulls away just to gaze down at them, studying my nakedness. And just as I begin to feel self-conscious, he lowers his head and hungrily takes a hardened nipple into his mouth, stroking the sensitive skin with his tongue. I grasp his hair, pulling with shaky hands. Not because I’m nervous or scared, but because I want this too bad. His mouth, his hands, his hard length on my thigh, straining through thin silk…I’ve needed this. And I don’t give a damn what that makes me. I don’t even want to think about it.

Niko’s hot tongue moves to my other breast, sucking, kneading the mounds to give his tongue better access. I moan, relishing in the feel of pleasure, something that had become such a distant memory. He devours me, refusing to leave any bit puckered, heated skin untouched. And he’s so good…Niko is so, so good. It’s as if he already knew. He already knew what my body craved.

I feel him growing harder against my leg, thrilled by the fact that only a flimsy layer of fabric separates his sex from mine. How easy it would be to have him push inside me. To have him chase away my demons with every filling inch. I would scream his name as I fell apart against him. I would come so hard that the walls would shake with our release.

I reach down between us, taking him in my hands to show him my intentions. He pauses, gazing down at my panting body, asking and answering questions in his head. He decides, pushing back onto his knees to unleash his desire.

He’s beautiful. God, he’s beautiful.

My mouth watering, I let the rest of the robe fall away, offering my body in exchange for his. He takes me in, routing his assault before he attacks, crushing me under a hungry kiss. I feel him there pulsing, waiting, yet I need to feel more. I need to feel whole again. And maybe…maybe he could do it. Maybe Niko could be the one to cure this broken heart. Because if my body wants him as badly as it does, maybe that shattered part of me will too.

He pulls away suddenly, still hovering over me, yet our naked chests no longer touch. “Stop. Wait. We can't do this.”

I flinch at the sting of rejection and the loss of his body on mine. “Why not?”

He closes his eyes, as if he’s trying to fight the voices inside his head. “Believe me, I want to. Shit, I want to.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” I’m nearly breathless, squirming under him with the need to be touched.

He shakes his head, his jaw tight. “Look, baby girl… I'm not Dorian, and I never will be. I'll never be able to fill the void that he's left behind. So you better be damn well certain that you're ok with that. Ok? Because you’re getting me. Just me. And I can't be someone I'm not. I can't make you whole again. Not like you were before.”

I look up at those crystal blue eyes, feeling ice in my veins. “I guess I could say the same for you.”

He doesn’t respond. I don’t even have to infiltrate his mind to know which voice in his head spoke the loudest.

The awkward sets in, and we’re left to look down at the mess we’ve made. He reaches down to collect his pajama bottoms at the same time I grab for my robe. “I should go,” he mumbles, hastily pulling them on and turning for the door. He still can’t look at me. Right about now, I can’t look at me either.

“Wait,” I hear myself say, reaching out to grasp his arm. I pull my hand back quickly, the touch feeling too intimate now. “Please, just…stay. Just stay with me, like you did last night. I just…I feel—,”

“Ok.” The expression on his face is one of resignation, and maybe a little relief. “Let’s just get some sleep, ok?”

I nod, so fucking grateful that he can even stand to still be in the same room as me. We both crawl under the covers in silence, banishing ourselves to our respective sides. I turn over onto my side, away from him, feeling like such a fool. Feeling like I’ve just ruined everything.

I hear him take a deep breath behind me before I feel him shift. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling my back to his chest. He holds me close, knowing I need this. Knowing I need him, in any way I can get him.

His soft, steady breath on my neck lulls me to sleep, and I fall into a colorful dream. We’re surrounded by trees, the water and sunlight. When I look at him, he smiles. And I cry, because I’ll never know what that feels like again.

THERE’S A MARCHING band in my hotel room. And the drum line is currently going all “Hollaback Girl” on my skull.

The banging intensifies, forcing my eyelids open, which I swear have been super-glued shut. My mouth feels like it has been filled with ass-flavored sand and my stomach is churning with gasoline. Still, I struggle to push up on my elbows, trying to locate the source of the relentless pounding, and in hopes of shutting it the fuck up.

I sit up with a groan just as the bed dips beside me. Oh shit, maybe I’m still drunk. But no. I couldn’t be so lucky. I have to be hungover and stupid.

Niko looks at me, his hair a messy, black mop over his forehead. He rakes it back, grimacing as if just touching his scalp pains him. The banging resumes and we both shoot off the bed, looking towards the door. There’s no marching band, and even though my head is pounding, it’s muted by the sounds of someone knocking.

“Hey, it’s me, Lars,” someone calls from the other side of the door. “Open up or I’m coming in.”

Lars! He’s back. Hopefully with good news.

Closest to the door, Niko unlocks it and let’s in the agitated Light Enchanter who looks oddly chic and meticulous for someone so large.

“Have you seen the news?” he questions as soon as the door closes behind him. He darts to the remote sitting on the small table and turns on the TV.

“No.” My throat is rough so I clear it and try again. “No, we just woke up.”

That’s when Lars finally slows down and takes in the scene before him. Me in nothing but a bathrobe. Niko shirtless. The room a hot, damn mess.

“Um, is this a bad time? I mean…we’re still on, right? You still want to save Dorian?”

“Yes, of course,” I insist, pulling the robe tighter around my frame. “Everything is still on, as long as you’ve gotten the information you need.”

“I did. But we have to act fast. Like within the next 48 hours.”

“Why’s that?” Niko asks, finally finding his voice, although it doesn’t sound any better than mine.

“Look.”

We both turn towards the TV as a banner flashing Breaking News scrolls across the bottom. An anchorwoman comes on, her expression grave as she reports the startling phenomena sweeping across the nation. Missing persons cases have skyrocketed in the last 36 hours and police departments in every city in the US have been swamped with nothing more than dead ends. And to make matters worse, there has been strange activity in the animal kingdom. Birds, fish and small forest creatures have all disappeared. There have been several escape attempts at zoos by ornery animals. Even household pets have run away. They’ve called in every expert with a PhD, MD and a bunch of other useless acronyms, yet no one can explain it.

“It’s happening,” Niko whispers, wide eyes glued to the television.

“People are calling it The Rapture. They believe the end is near. It’s mass hysteria out there, and it’s only going to get worse.” Lars looks at me, his expression almost reverent. “This is what Solara died for—this moment. When you would take your place in the Divine order and make things right again. It is time.”

“The prophecy?” The words feel like a curse on my tongue.

Lars nods before turning for the door. “I’ll leave you two to get ready. Time is of the essence.” Then he lets himself out, leaving us to drown in our own unease.

“Niko…” I don’t even know what I mean to say. An apology doesn’t feel like enough, although I know it’s warranted. And now that we’re about to embark on the darkness of the unknown, I need to make this right. I need him to know that last night may have been wrong, but it wasn’t a mistake. He wasn’t a mistake. “Niko, I—,”

He holds up a hand and shakes his head, halting any more words. “Don’t apologize. It’s nothing.”

It’s nothing. We’re nothing.

He makes his way to the adjoining door, but stop just as he twists the knob. I hold my breath, waiting for him to yell, scream, curse—anything. Anything to put us back on even footing.

“Gabs?” His voice is gravel on glass—dangerously close to breaking. “If you would’ve said ok—if you would have said it was me you wanted, not some temporary replacement for my brother, I would have done anything you wanted last night. Anything.”

He disappears into the next room, and I sink to the floor, feeling like I’ve lost my best friend. Because I did.

THE PLANE RIDE back to Louisiana is long, and only made more uncomfortable by the simmering tension between Niko and me. Luckily, Lars is a welcomed buffer, and willing to answer all of my probing questions about the Light, his sister and even what he’s heard of my mother.

“She was a legend,” he reflects. “A champion for our kind. Which is why her dealings with the Dark One reeked of betrayal. It’s still considered treason to utter her name at Light court.”

“Because she fell in love? She didn’t hurt anybody!” I shake my head, not understanding how a race that prides themselves of compassion and healing could be so cruel.

“I know that. And so did Solara. When she spotted you with the Dark prince that evening, her plan was to just simply watch you from afar and not intervene. But you were always with him…falling deeper under his spell. She couldn’t tell if his intentions were good or not so she kept a safe distance, praying that he would not harm you. And when he was betrothed to wed the Órexis female, she came to me, begging for my help in protecting you. Like a fool, I turned her away, refusing to get involved. And because of that, she lost her life.”

He looks to me, topaz eyes full of sorrow and regret. “Forgive me, Gabriella. I was a coward. Had I not been so stubborn and weak, I could have saved you both.”

I reach out to squeeze his hand and offer a reassuring smile. “It’s not your fault. None of that was anyone’s fault but Xavier’s.”

Lars takes the tender moment to lean in before looking back at Niko who sits several feet away, absentmindedly staring out the window. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you sure this is what you want? To go back to the other brother? Because if not, we don’t have to do this. I can think of about a million other things I’d rather do than hunt down a Dark prince and try to conjure whatever humanity he has left.”

My gaze sweeps over to Niko, so beautiful and lonesome. I remember the feel of his skin against mine, his hips moving between my thighs. His lips and tongue exploring me with such delicate precision. He had felt so good, so attentive and thorough. I wanted him so badly that it almost hurt.

But he wasn’t Dorian. And no one could fill that gaping hole he had left behind.

“This is what I want.”

Because Dorian is all I’ll ever want, from now until the very end. It was always him—it will always be him. I was just stupid and desperate enough to try to make my heart feel otherwise.

When we finally arrive at the mansion’s gates, I feel a sense of overwhelming relief. I’ve missed Morgan, and even Alex. He’s been loyal throughout all of this, and I feel shitty for questioning his presence before. No more. I won’t waste any more time with the people I love, Niko included. And as soon as we get Dorian back to safety, I’m going to put in the work to make things right with him again. I know it won’t be easy, but we have to get past this. We’ve been through too much to just let our friendship die over a night of drunken mistakes.

But even as I think it, I know that it was more than just alcohol that influenced our hands and lips. And if I’m really being honest with myself, I wasn’t that drunk. Not drunk enough to forget the smooth feel of his skin against mine and the sweet taste of his tongue. No amount of booze could erase the image of him hovered over my body, dark hair falling into his eyes as he gazed down at me with reverence.

Caught in a daydream, I don’t even realize we’re in front of the house until Morgan is practically ripping the limo door off its hinges. “Gabs! Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much!” There’re tears in her eyes, and she pulls my arm until my shoes hit gravel. Then she’s hugging me furiously, as if she’s just grateful I’m alive.

“What is it, Morg? Is everything ok? Where’s Alexander?” I grasp her shoulders and pull her body from mine to search her face for any signs of distress. But there’s only love in those big brown eyes.

“I’m just so glad you’re home.” Her voice is hoarse, as if she’s struggling to keep the knot in her throat from surfacing. She smiles through the discomfort. “And Alex is great. He’s been teaching me a bit about what I am and what my abilities are. Kinda makes me feel like a bad ass.”

“What you are?” Hold up. Abilities?

“A Guardian.” Lars steps from around the other side of the limo. He bows to Morgan before taking her hand and kissing the back of it. His golden eyes are full of awe and admiration. “You’ve done well. You have my deepest gratitude.”

“A Guardian?”

“Yes,” Lars nods. “Your friend is one of the Chosen. Her blood was enhanced at birth to give her special abilities that will prove helpful in the very near future. Tell me, Guardian, do you see the faces of the dead? Hear their whispers in the night breeze?”

Morgan’s eyes widen twice their size and she nods, unable to speak.

“Yes. Those are the voices of the ancestors. Quite debilitating at first, as I have heard. But as your sight adjusts, you should be able to focus it. Listen to them. They will tell you what you should do in times of trouble.”

Morgan turns her head to me, a thousand questions etched in her confused expression. I grin and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Morgan, this is Lars. He’s a Light Enchanter, and the key to unlocking Dorian’s curse. Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll download you.”

Around the coffee table in the great room, Lars, Niko, Alex, Morgan and I share information we’ve learned in the last few days and devise the rescue mission. Morgan is on one side of me, our arms touching, since Lars informed us that as a Guardian, physical contact with her would deflect Stavros’s power, which is why she was able to hold Alex before. In her lap, lies the Polemos blade, a gift from Alexander. He had been teaching her how to fight in my absence, and the blade provides her with even more protection. One look at it, and most enemies will recoil, if not retreat with their tails between their legs. She really is turning into a bad ass, and I’m proud of her. None of this is easy to digest, even for me. And here she is—a fragile human—and she’s willing to fight. Willing to sacrifice her life to protect what she doesn’t even fully understand.

My father sits on my other side, his body humming with emotion. He turns to look at me and smiles, cracking his usual stoic exterior.

“What?”

“Just grateful to have you here. And so proud of your courage. You grow more like your mother every day, and I thank the Divine for that. The Light in you is strong.”

“It is,” Lars nods, respectfully chiming in. “My deepest sympathies for your loss, Dark One. Natalia was a great and mighty warrior, and her legacy lives on in your daughter. I am honored to serve her.”

Alex responds with a bowed head and offers the blonde man his hand, a sign of great respect. Lars takes it gratefully, clasping his other hand over it. “Your daughter is an extraordinary young woman. Our people will forever be indebted to her—to you—and Natalia’s spirit will be redeemed. Her death was not in vain, but in love.”

Alexander pulls me close with his other arm, bringing me into the heartfelt moment. It’s the first time he has openly embraced me, and I feel so grateful for him. For all of them.

I look around the room, taking in the scene before my watery, dual-colored eyes. We’ve done it. We’ve breathed life into the prophecy. This is what mortals and immortals around the globe have been waiting centuries for.

“So it’s settled.” Niko’s cold voice cuts into the warmth in the atmosphere and he climbs to his feet. His flat gaze meets mine for just a split second before turning away, taking my breath with him. “We leave for Skiathos tomorrow.”

THIS IS IT.

The moment we’ve all been preparing for. What people have suffered for, bled for. Died for.

This is the end.

After today, there will be no question of what I stand for, and whom I stand against. We’re making it known loud and clear, splattering it on the wall in the blood of our enemies. This isn’t just a rescue mission—far from that. We’re standing against Stavros. Standing for humanity. For freedom.

That night, when Denny Nox took us to the Lost and Found, I gazed out over the crowd of Otherworldlings that were laughing and dancing together. Creating the very peace that so many have sacrificed their lives for. And I realized something. I’m not here to put the Dark back in their place, or punish them for their iniquities. I’m not even sure I’m here to bring both the Light and the Dark together. But what I do know, is that they deserve a choice. There shouldn’t be limitations on who they can love. They shouldn’t be expected to take on certain roles in society because of what their last name happens to be. The Light, the Dark, vampires, werewolves and supernaturals alike deserve freedom. And that is what I will fight for.

I won’t live my life in fear for one second longer. And I won’t allow my people—the Light, the Dark, humans and every being with even just a touch of magic in their veins—continue to live in the shadows.

This is the end.

The end of Stavros’s reign. The end of evil.

And even if it means the end for me, I know that I cannot be afraid. I will not be afraid. Faith is my sword and my shield. With them, nothing can defeat me.

I LOOK OUT the window of the jet, busying my mind with everything I’ve learned. Yesterday, Alexander worked with me for hours, helping me to tap into the power surging through my veins. Feeling a renewed sense of purpose and channeling what I had learned from Niko, I caught on quickly, and pressed everything I had into the lesson. He was impressed, as was Lars and Morgan who watched intently. And while I was proud of my progress, a sorrow tugged at my heart because Niko wasn’t there to share my victory. After our meeting, he had remained locked in his room, doing God knows what. Probably counting down the days until he could rid me from his life.

And could I blame him?

Yes, reversing Dorian’s spell would bring his brother back, but what would that mean for us? How can I show him that he wasn’t just a replacement?

“We’ll be there soon,” Alex says, coming to sit beside me and, thankfully, interrupting my thoughts. A rush of adrenaline spikes in my heart, sending tingles to my extremities. “Once we land in Crete, things will be in motion fairly quickly.”

Knowing that actually landing anywhere near the Dark kingdom was a suicide mission, we’ve chosen to stop on a different island. From there, we can manifest onto Skiathos, and since it isn’t a very long distance, Alex will carry Morgan. He’s taken a liking to her, caring for her like she is my sister. And she is. Morgan is my family, and from this point on, nothing but death will keep her out of my life.

I glance across the plane to find that I’m not the only one that admires Ms. Pierre. She and Lars are sitting side by side on the plush, navy blue couch, smiling at each other. He opens his hand to her, and a tiny sun appears, floating just centimeters from his palm. He closes it, extinguishing the light. When he reopens it, he presents her with a single red rose bloom. Lars offers it to her, and she happily accepts, looking up at the beautiful giant with wonder in her eyes.

“You worry about her,” Alex says quietly.

“I do.”

He nods. “Understandable. But I believe she will be in good hands. The Light Enchanter has taken an interest in her. I believe he is honorable and willing to protect her with his life.”

“I do too. But what if…what if this is too much for her? She isn’t like us. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

Alex grasps my knotted hands, covering them with his own. “Fear not, daughter. The Divine has been planning this moment for centuries. Morgan may not be as breakable as you think.” He gives me a wink, and I get a flash of that carefree man in the Polaroid picture, his large hands cradling my mother’s stomach. Cradling me. Emotion takes over and I free myself from his grasp, only to wrap my arms around him. He stiffens at first, taken off guard by my candor. But then I feel him holding me, squeezing me. A shudder rolls through his chest and I hear him gasp, his head pressed against the top of mine.

“I love you, my brave, sweet girl,” he whispers, his voice thick. “I always have. Knowing you were out there was the only thing that kept me alive all those years in hiding. Just the idea of meeting you was enough to keep me going.”

We embrace for what feels like hours, trying to make up for all the time lost, when Niko emerges from the cockpit. He shoots an icy glare at Alexander and me then turns to Morgan and Lars. Sorrow rests at the edge of his coldness.

“Prepare for landing,” he mutters before settling in the seat farthest from the rest of us, and strapping in. Alex looks at me expectantly, probably waiting for me to go to him. I resume gazing out the window, watching the clouds zip by as we descend into destiny.

Since we knew it wouldn’t be easy to infiltrate the castle, and obviously didn’t expect to stroll right through the doors, we prepare ourselves to hike from the southern side of the palace where the mountain’s rocks are the most jagged, warding off any intruders. Of course, the land is spelled for miles, so Lars must hold Morgan’s hand, a hardship that he was only too happy to bear. The two maintain constant contact as they battle the rough terrain, which brings me a little peace. While I may hold the gift of regeneration, Morgan does not. And having Lars by her side gives me comfort that she won’t fall and hurt herself, something that is a real possibility among the razor-sharp boulders.

“Won’t be much longer,” Alex announces from the front of the group two hours into our journey. We’re losing daylight and our physical energy is dwindling.

“Good,” I hear Niko mumble from the rear.

When we approach the secret cliff dwelling, we shed our gear so we’re able to slip through a fissure in the mountain that’s only a little more than a foot wide. Luckily, it’s only that narrow at the section closest to the castle wall.

“What’s this?” I ask, pointing to a symbol etched into the black, metallic stone.

“The symbol of the fallen children,” Lars answers behind me, his voice full of pride. “We have been here.”

I run my fingers over the grooved edges of carved rock, imagining the terrified souls that must have passed through these very walls in a quest for freedom. And the fact that Cyrus led my father to this tunnel makes me believe that he, too, is one of the fallen. It would make sense, considering the vampire’s unwavering support of his cousins and Stavros’s undeniable hatred for his nephew.

We reach a patch of smoothed rock that’s merely the size of a large doggy door. Alexander pushes with all his might until it begins to groan under the pressure of his immense strength. Once he’s able to get it to budge, it makes a screeching sound as it automatically slides to the side, revealing a hole that even I will have trouble getting through. I look back at Lars and he tips his head.

“Don’t worry about me. I have my ways,” he winks.

Alex passes through first, holding a flashlight, more for Morgan’s sake than anything else. The rest of us can see perfectly through the tiny, pitch-black space. I’m right behind him, shimmying on hands and knees. Bits of gravel dig into my palms, and I can’t even fathom what kind of rodents live down here. I push it out of my mind, refusing to freak out. We’ve got bigger fish to fry, and rats and spiders are the least of our problems.

We crawl for about fifty yards before we come to a large vent that Alex slips off easily, as if it is purposely left unscrewed. He turns to us, pressing a finger to his lips. From this point on, no one speaks. Anything that needs to be communicated will be passed telepathically.

There are signs of activity inside the duct—patterned knee prints disturbing inches of dust and debris. We shuffle through as silently as possible, cringing every time the galvanized metal screeches. By the time we reach a second vent, I’m not even breathing.

“This is it,” I hear Alex whisper in my head, his presence leaving behind the ghost of a shiver.

He pushes the vent and catches it before it clatters to the ground. As quietly as possible, we tumble out of the duct into more darkness. We’re in a storage room of some sort, the musty smells of old upholstery and cleaning supplies nearly suffocating us in the small, stuffy room. I know what comes next. Alex and Niko mapped every step for us, down to the inch. Outside this room is a long corridor of guard’s quarters, an area that is crawling with vampires. Alex hurriedly shoves fabric in our hands and we make quick work of slipping on the dark jackets before slipping on sunglasses and black caps. We obviously won’t be fooling anyone up close, but we’re hoping it’s enough to get us past the scrutiny of dozens of red eyes.

Niko takes the lead since he knows the palace grounds like the back of his hand, and with a deep breath, he opens the door. The hallway is bustling, which is both a gift and a curse for us. A gift because we’re able to filter into the crowd easily. A curse because now we’re in close proximity to murderous vamps that jump at Stavros’s command.

We weave through the melee as quickly as possible without drawing alarm. They can sense the presence of the Dark, which is not unusual, but luckily, they can’t smell Lars, due to his contact with Morgan. And thanks to my wonky pedigree, I go undetected.

Niko leads us to a deserted staircase that is mostly used by servants from the kitchen. Once we’re out of sight, we break into a run, taking the stairs two at a time until we reach another door. Niko reaches out to open but pauses with his hand on the doorknob. This is it. On the other side of this door, Death awaits us. And while we hope that we’ve somehow eluded our enemies, I can’t help but wonder if we’ve made it this far only to fall into a trap. We could be playing right into Stavros’s hand, walking into the lion’s den with raw steak wrapped around our necks. But this is our only shot—our only chance to set Dorian free.

Niko turns around and looks at me, his expression blank and guarded. I don’t miss the trembling of his hand as he opens the door.

THE GOLD AND cream-adorned hallway is clear and quiet, not a soul in sight. I taste the air, trying to pick up on any signs of life. Nothing. It’s completely deserted. Niko waves us though and we quickly make our way through to another corridor, virtually silent. While it would be easier to just flash to our desired location, using takes energy and it would attract attention. Still, we stay on guard, ready to attack if need be.

We stop just before we round another corner just as we hear voices floating down the connecting hallway. Niko turns and gives us a signal, telling us that Dorian’s quarters are in that direction. The plan is to take Lars, Morgan and me to him to begin the healing process, then Niko and Alex will hastily head to the prison cells to free Cyrus. When I expressed my concern at there being only two of them, Alex looked at me with complete confidence, a smug smile on his lips.

“I’m a warrior, child—a trained assassin. The king’s guard may be tough, but not tough enough.”

Once the voices fade far enough that even my ears can’t detect them, we round the corner.

And run smack dab into a wall of black-draped muscle and sunglasses.

Vampires. At least eight of them.

It only takes half a second before we’re all crouched into defensive stances, illuminated hands primed to strike. Even Morgan has unsheathed the Polemos dagger, which will be even more effective on our present company, reducing them to ash with just prick of the blade.

The vampires are motionless, not even making a move to attack. They stand shoulder to shoulder, spanning the width of the hall, as if they are shielding something—or someone. When I hear a familiar chortle, I know exactly what they were concealing.

“Now is that anyway to welcome your host?” Stavros chides, as the vampires move in tandem to accommodate his advance. He’s dressed in a midnight blue, pinstripe suit, much like the one he wore when I first laid eyes on him in that grocery store aisle. I shudder at the thought of him consciously choosing this suit just for me, forcing that memory into my head.

The Dark king runs his gaze over our group, his face passive. However, his eyes are sharp and narrowed as he takes us in. I know what he’s thinking. He can’t believe the prophecy has come into fruition. We he looks back at his son, he makes a tsking sound and shakes his head, as if his son’s betrayal offends him.

“Let us convene in the throne room,” he says, turning his back. He’s a cocky fucker, thinking we won’t dare strike him.

“Let’s not,” Niko retorts. “Just give us Dorian and Cyrus, and no one gets hurt.”

Stavros stops to shoot Niko an amused look. “What you seek is in the throne room, boy. Come and get it, if you dare.” Then he disappears into the tall wall of vampire.

“Shit,” Niko curses, as we watch their retreating backs. Cold energy vibrates his entire frame, and his irises are nearly white. He doesn’t meet my horrified stare, but I know his whispered words are for me. “Turn back. Get to safety. If you don’t leave now, you won’t get another shot.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I reply in an equally hushed tone, shaking my head so he can feel the certainty in my words. “You’re not doing this alone. I won’t let you.”

“Goddamit, Gabs. For once, listen to me. Go now. Please. Take the others with you. This was a mistake. It was all a mistake.”

My life has never been the picture of good morality and virtue. I’ve made mistakes—plenty of them. But Niko was not one of them. I stand with him with purpose, with unwavering faith, willing to shoulder his burden as my own.

As if reading my thoughts, Alexander sidles up to Niko clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We stay together, brother. You will not bear this alone.” Both Morgan and Lars nod in unison, with no signs of reluctance.

“Ok,” Niko replies, his voice weak. Finally, those vacant, pale eyes meet mine, and they begin to churn with unnamed emotion. His expression crumples for just the flash of a second and his lips part, yet he bites them back.

I reach for his hand, sliding my palm against his in an act of apology, of forgiveness. Of love. “Ok.”

The throne room is everything the name suggests: ostentatious, excessive and unbelievably soulless. I imagine Dorian—my Dorian—dreading the space as he grew up, considering his aversion to all things flashy and wasteful. Or maybe he originally liked things like this, his tastes only changing as his view on humanity did.

Stavros sits upon a gaudy, golden throne, his dark suit looking rich and regal against the majestic backdrop. Delia sits beside him, her high back chair not as large, but equally grand. Her eyes fall on her son first, the pain reflected in them so clearly evident. She clutches the arm of her seat until her knuckles run white, yet says nothing, pressing those red, lush lips into a grim line. My mouth dries as I look at her, enraptured by all her beauty. Wondering how a woman so seemingly loving towards her sons can be married to someone so callous and cruel.

“You wound me, boy,” Stavros says after several minutes of boring his hateful stare into us. “My own flesh and blood—my son—betraying his family. His race. For what? An abomination? A living, breathing crime against our species? Not to mention a fugitive, a human bitch and a sniveling Light parasite?” He sucks his teeth in distaste before drawing his lips tight against a murderous sneer. “Bow to me. All of you! Bow to me and beg for forgiveness. Beg for mercy. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll make your death a quick one.”

“No.” The simple word vibrates Niko’s chest with the weight of a thousand fallen souls, reverberating through the entire room.

“Bow, you unworthy, traitorous speck of a man! I loathe that my blood runs through your veins. Your very existence is a plague to the Skotos name.”

Delia flinches before reaching out to gently touch her husband’s arm. Even she knows he’s gone too far. “Stavros…”

The Dark king recoils from her touch, shooting her a death glare that echoes with violence. Delia instantly shrinks back into her chair, fear rattling the heavy jewels around her throat.

“No,” Niko repeats, no inflection in his voice. There is sheer madness in Stavros’s eyes, yet the younger man remains impassive, a pillar of restraint. And while he does not need the show of support, I reach over and grasp his hand, showing him that he does not stand alone. He’ll never, ever be alone again.

Stavros barks out a mocking laugh, the sound harsher than his usual deep baritone. He sits up straight, leaning forward on the edge of his seat. “You think that you can challenge me? You think that hybrid slut can save you, boy? She is just as much of a disgrace as you are.”

I hear Alexander growl beside me, the promise of vengeance rolling off him in menacing waves. I reach over and clasp his hand before rage can make him take a step forward. On his other side, Morgan shifts, doing the same, her other hand still tightly grasping Lars. We stand before that Dark bastard, a united front. If we are slain today, it will be side by side, as one. As family.

Biting down my overwhelming sadness at the thought of my loved ones losing their lives, I hold my head high, meeting Stavros’s glare. “Enough of your threats. Give us what we came for, and we will consider letting you live.”

Again, the king snickers with amusement. “Let me live? And who the hell do you think will enforce that directive, you dim-witted bitch?”

There’s not a single shred of uncertainty in my voice. Not one. “I will.”

“As will I,” Niko adds, his voice rising above Stavros’s scornful mirth.

“And I,” Alexander states, his tone also slicing through the king’s disdain.

“Me too,” pipes Morgan.

On cue, Lars is right behind her. “Aye!”

“Is that all?” Stavros asks amusingly. “Five degenerate misfits? Ha!”

“Well, don’t forget us,” a familiar voice says from the shadows, approaching us where we stand. Resounding gasps and whispers echo around the room, and the look on Stavros’s face shifts from glee to pure fury.

Denny Nox steps into view, flanked by several dozen fallen children of all species, shapes and sizes. He flashes me a wink as I smile at him and the rousing crowd of castaways, gratitude pouring out of me by the gallon.

“Daneus Deleazó,” Stavros grits, obvious disdain dripping from what looks like gleaming white fangs. He’s livid, so much so that his darkness has emerged. He’s got a personal vendetta against the alluring sex god-turned-rocker.

Denny dips his head dramatically and sweeps a hand forward with a flourish. “My king,” he mocks. Then he lifts his head, shooting Delia Skotos a look so sultry that she gasps aloud, squirming in her seat. “My queen.”

Stavros takes one look at his wife’s panting chest and flushed cheeks, and sneers before backhanding the woman, nearly sending her flying out of her chair. Horrified shrieks and growls erupt all over the room and I squeeze Niko’s hand as tight as I can. He’s shaking with rage, and the mere power of his wrath causes the room to dip in temperature.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Denny warns, his voice as cold as the now chilly room. His eyes stay fixed on the queen as her handmaidens rush to her side and help to usher her from the room. Something passes across his features…regret. And love.

“Oh? And why’s that? Because you brought your little friends with you?” Stavros stands to his feet, yet he’s smart enough to not advance past the safety of his guards. “Well, I’ve brought a few friends of my own.”

He snaps his fingers and rows of vampires and possessed humans file out, expressions blank. Soulless. After the last of his army lines up, which nearly breeches the capacity of the room, a silver-chained figure is brought out by a Warlock. At first, I don’t even recognize him, his face unrecognizable from beatings. He’s woozy, almost unable to stand, and it looks like one of his fangs has been torn from his mouth.

“What the hell have you done to him?” Niko roars, cringing at the sight of his cousin, Cyrus.

“Not nearly enough,” Stavros retorts. “And nothing close to what I plan to do to that degenerate whore beside you.”

“You’re dead,” Niko declares, the truth ringing crystal clear in his level voice. “You’re fucking dead.”

Stavros snorts before pinning his son with a malicious smirk. “You first.”

The Dark king disappears, yet his words vibrate the entire room, making everybody tremble with unspent rage. I know what that sound means. The end. This is the end.

The next seconds seem like a slow motion sequence rather than mere seconds as Lars whirls in front of us, his expression wild. “Now!” he screams.

Niko is already gone from beside me, and manifesting beside Cyrus, before disappearing with him in the next heartbeat. Stavros’s army springs into action, but not before Lars’s body begins to seize where he stands as his hands work to contain a rapidly growing, blinding ball of light. It’s like he’s holding the sun in his palms, the glowing orb casting radiant sunlight over the entire room. With a roar, he pushes it out into the advancing, offensive line. Screams ring out as the ball catches fire on all the opposing vampires. They writhe and wilt to the ground before reducing to nothing but piles of sickly ash. Still, the humans press forward, violence in their flat eyes, not realizing what they’re doing. More enemies join them, running into the throne room with arms raised in bloodlust.

We brace for impact as our line crashes into theirs in 5…4…3…2…

“Try to immobilize the humans!” Alex shouts over the thunder of battle. “Kill the rest!”

Instinct completely governs my body as I kick and punch and freeze our enemies with lightning speed. They’re coming at me in droves, all wanting to be the one to slay the Dark Light, and I’m taking them down faster than they can see. Magic sizzles in my veins as I slam into the chest of a human, freezing him where he stands. Behind him a Warlock tries to barrel into me, but he’s too slow, and electric hands reach from my fingertips and wrap around his neck, squeezing until he’s an unconscious heap on the floor.

“Get to Dorian!” Alex calls from over the fray, just as two more Dark Ones fall victim to his flawless skill. “Hurry! I’ll catch up!”

I flash to Morgan as she slices and dices, wielding the Polemos blade like a fucking surgeon. Lars is at her back, blasting mofos with fiery balls of light. “Come on!”

They know the plan, and Morgan turns to grip the Enchanter, holding on as we dissolve just a split second before a sword-wielding human nearly decapitates us. We manifest in the hallway, and break into a sprint away from the battle. Guilt twists in my gut, hating that I have to leave the fight and all my new brothers and sisters in arms, but we have to stick to the plan.

“Where is it?” Morgan asks, running beside me. We stop at two long corridors as I try to remember the map Niko drew for us. I’d only been to Dorian’s quarters once and every door looks the same. Shit. Did we get turned around in our escape?

I go left, praying that I’ve chosen the right path. “Down here!”

We race down a few yards, before the very walls around us shift and morph into something else. When we try to turn and double back, we’re trapped between doors at opposite ends. Holy fuck, it’s spelled. The goddamn hallways are spelled so we can’t find our way.

I try to blast them with an electric zap, but the walls just twist and distort before snapping back into place like a rubberized mirage. We have to choose a door, and the more time we spend trying to decide which one, the more time we waste in finding Dorian. Holding my breath, I choose the door at the very end. I suspect the destination would be the same no matter what entranceway we picked.

We’re in the infamous parlor, which has been completely restored since the last time I was here. But I don’t give two shits about the décor. Stavros is here. And right now, he has an unconscious Niko suspended in midair, completely immobilized. He’s badly beaten, but judging by Stavros’s ripped clothes and bloodied face, Niko put up a helluva fight. Below him is Cyrus, who is nothing more than a crumpled, bloody heap in the corner. Oh no.

“Let him go!” I rage, throwing a wave of crackling magic at Stavros. He deflects it, wielding it back in my direction. Lars tackles Morgan to the ground and I tumble out of the way just before it takes us out.

“So lovely for you to join us, Gabriella.” The way he spits out my name makes it sound like a curse. He smiles, circling me like a predator, as I lower into a crouch. Lars tries to intervene, but Stavros immediately traps him and Morgan in an invisible cell. It’s just me and him. Just as he’s wanted it all along.

“You could’ve been great. A legend. But now you’re nothing but a pathetic waste of power,” he sneers, stalking me, trying to look for a hole in my defense. I anticipate every move, my keen eyes fixed on everything from the pattern of his steps to the rapid pulsing of his jugular.

“A cancer to our race! Nothing more than the Divine’s little, illicit mistake,” he continues. “You’re a dirty, little whore. Just like your mother!”

I know what he’s doing—he’s trying to get in my head. He thinks if he can weasel his way into my emotions, he can catch me off guard. Think again, motherfucker. I don’t even hear his words. All I can focus on is what his bloodied flesh will feel like slipping between my fingers as I rip off his head.

“You know Dorian never loved you, right? The rumor of his curse—the one that forced him to love you. All true. So even if you manage to reverse the spell, he’ll still despise you. He’ll still be disgusted by your very presence. Just like your so-called family and friends. They probably couldn’t wait to rid you from their lives. How is Chris by the way? Enjoying Hawaii? Or Jared? I’ve always wanted to visit Notre Dame.”

The threat in his words slice through me like a blazing hot knife and I ground out my anger. The tiny crack in my emotions is all Stavros needs and in the next flash, his hand is around my neck and I’m pressed against the wall, my feet dangling off the ground.

“I told you, you little bitch,” he grits, his mouth a whisper away from mine. Bloody spittle flies into my eyes, stinging like venom. “Align with the Dark or die. You chose and you chose wrong, so now, here is your reward.”

His grip tightens, and no matter how hard I struggle and kick, he doesn’t relent. He just keeps squeezing tighter, his eyes growing paler. I hear Morgan and Lars’s muffled screams, but their voices are getting weaker in my ears. Splotches cloud my vision yet I can’t blink them away. Instead, I see the beach, crystal blue waves crashing against white sands. I smell salt in the warm breeze. Feel sunlight against my face.

This is the end.

A wet, gurgling sound cuts into the squawk of seagulls up above, pulling me back to the parlor. Back to my death. Stavros’s hand is still wrapped around my neck, still squeezing the life out of me. But there’s blood, dark red blood quickly expanding into a circle on dark fabric. And the razor sharp tip of a spear at my sternum.

THE DARK KING’S eyes bore into mine, unblinking and unnaturally wide. His mouth goes slack and his pink tongue moves as if he’s trying to say something, yet no sound escapes. He looks down at the spear protruding through his chest, following the smooth, wooden spike to the very point where it touches mine. His horrified glare travels back up to my face one last time, then he crumples to the ground, taking me with him.

He’s dead.

Stavros Skotos, king of the Dark, is dead.

I grasp my neck, coughing, as I try to suck oxygen back into my lungs. It burns with every lungful but I can’t get enough, the sounds of wheezing carrying over the sudden trample of footprints in my direction.

“Gabs! Oh my God, are you ok?” Morgan wraps her arms around me, pulling me close. I can’t talk yet, but I nod, even though the movement unleashes hell on my neck. It’ll pass. My body will begin to mend itself any second.

Lars checks to see how I’m doing before rushing to Niko’s aid. He’s sprawled out on the floor and in bad shape, but he’s conscious, and Lars has already begun to heal him. Working through the pain, I force myself up on shaky legs. That’s when my gaze sweeps to her. My savior. Stavros’s murderer.

Delia Skotos.

Her small hands shake uncontrollably, and her gaze is filled with an almost vacant kind of terror, as if she’s checked out. I gather my strength and will my vocal cords to work.

“Thank you.”

As if the sound of my raspy voice has somehow snapped her out of her trance, she flinches. “Yes. You must go now. Go save my son. I’ll stay with the vampire, just go bring my Dorian back.”

I nod, not knowing what else to do. I’m so grateful for her intervention, and as I race out of the room, the others at my heels, I pray that I live long enough to tell her that.

Freshly healed, Niko takes the lead, and we head to Dorian’s quarters. Now that Stavros is gone, the halls are no longer spelled, and we aren’t trapped in a maze. We turn a corner and nearly run right over Alex.

“I was lost and couldn’t find you,” he says, falling in step with us. “Then suddenly, everything shifted.”

Niko nods. “Stavros is dead.”

“What?”

“He’s gone. Now we just have to get Dorian and get the fuck out of here.”

We arrive at a door, and familiarity rocks me. Dorian’s room. Just wood and brass are the only things that stand between me and my beloved.

I suck in as much oxygen as my lungs will allow and place my hand on the knob. Twist, click, creak. My feet carry me inside, into the beautiful room full of Dorian’s favorite things. However, it looks nothing like it did just days ago. Evil inhabits this space. It’s splashed onto the walls, draped over the windows, embedded in the carpeting. It stands before me on designer spiked heels, dressed in a skin-tight, black dress.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise. Darling, we have company!” she calls towards the back.

I tear my narrowed eyes away from Aurora’s twisted, red pout just as Dorian emerges from the bedroom. His gait is fluid, almost wraithlike, as if he’s not even trying to hide his darkness. He’s dressed in all black, like Aurora, inadvertently mourning the Dark king’s death. Or maybe anticipating mine.

“Isn’t this cute,” he scorns, going to stand beside his raven-haired slore. “Nikolai and his little pack of rejects. Aurora, my love, I thought you ordered the trash to be sent to the incinerator.”

My love?

I push out his insults and steel myself before taking another step into the room. Niko stands at my right, while Alex is at my left. “Come on, Dorian,” I say, holding out a hand. “We’ve come to take you home.”

“Home?” he scoffs, looking every bit like his father. “Scurvy bitch, I am home. And right now, you’re trespassing. So I’m going to give you to the count of ten to collect your little clan of miscreants, and get the fuck off my property before I skin you alive to make a coat for my woman. One. Two. Three. Ten.”

His eyes erupt with blue flames and he raises a hand above his head, preparing to strike. The men beside me do the same, animalistic snarls falling from their lips. But before anyone can strike, Aurora steps between us.

“My love,” she coos, placing a hand on Dorian’s chest. “How about you let us girls talk. Gabriella and I have a few…kinks…to work out.”

Talk? Unless it’s my fist talking to her face, I don’t have a damn thing to say to her. And the wicked gleam in her eye is telling me that she’s thinking the same.

“Hmmm. Yes. Have your fun, baby. I so love it when you get worked up.” Dorian kisses her lips, and I feel my rage raise another ten notches.

“You go enjoy the show. I won’t be long. We’ll still have plenty of time to do that thing that you like.” Her slick, wet tongue runs over her teeth as she turns back to me.

Four bodies heat around me preparing to fight, but I shake my head, not daring to turn my gaze from Aurora’s sinful smirk. “This is between me and her.”

They shift away, but I can still feel their worry. Dorian reclines on a plush sofa, looking rather bored. He likes to watch, huh? Well, who am I to deny him a show?

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” Aurora says, widening her stance.

“Ditto.” I didn’t come here to talk shit. We’re way beyond that.

Aurora tries to circle me, but I follow her movements, refusing to be prey once again. “I still owe you for sucker punching me.”

“Good luck.”

Her shrill, mocking laugh rings out, hurting my ears. “Well, aren’t you sweet.”

I roll my eyes, contemplating just shutting her the fuck up with a little jolt of magic. But then I would run the risk of her deflecting it, and in this close proximity, I could end up hitting my loved ones. I could immobilize her, snatch Dorian and hightail it, but where’s the fun in that? And she would always come back. We’d never be free of her.

No. This ends tonight, once and for all.

Aurora strikes first, her nails serving as razor sharp claws. She misses, but one of her talons catches my shirt, shredding it. Oh, so she wants to play dirty? Fine. Let’s see what this bitch is made of.

I flex my fingers as spiked metal encapsulates my hands. Brass knuckles. I smile, feeling like that old Gabs who used to be known for her quick temper and even quicker fists. Time to take it back to those boxing lessons with Chris in the garage. He knew what was coming; he knew I’d need to fall back on all he had taught me in hand-to-hand combat. Maybe in some ways, he was a Guardian too.

I flow back into the dance, my body moving fluidly in a tight circle. I’m aware of every part of me, and every limb will serve a purpose. Aurora shifts left, stepping right into my fist. The impact throws her off kilter but she quickly recovers, using the distraction to throw a jab. I block with my forearm, but her nails cut into my skin, leaving behind three bloody slashes. I don’t even look at them. I just keep moving, bouncing on the soles of my feet to keep my body warm.

“I hate bitches that scratch,” I say, as I see blood trickle from the side of her head where my fist connected. “What are you gonna do next? Pull my hair?”

Still circling me, she reaches up to where a droplet of blood hangs on her earlobe. She swipes it with the tip of a nail and places it in her mouth. “Your perverted ass might like that.”

I wink. “I might. Just ask your boyfriend.”

She bares her teeth before launching herself at me, claws outstretched. I spin right and clock her on the back of her head as she passes, but not before she bends and slices the back of my calf. Fuck. That’s going to be nasty. I feel the sting deep in my muscle, but I can’t acknowledge it. Even as warm blood pools in my boot, I keep my feet busy.

Aurora teeters on her heels, but stands upright on shaky legs. Her eyes are nearly opaque and glassy, as if that last blow knocked a few screws loose. Oh yeah, she’ll feel that one in the morning…if she even makes it until morning.

“Oh, get on with it,” Dorian says from behind us. “Stop playing with the girl and finish her off.”

In a fury of claws and fangs, Aurora pounces like a cat, tackling me to the ground. Her nails are jabbing my arms and hands as I block my face and neck. For someone so slight, she’s strong. And I can tell she’s been waiting to take a chunk out of me for months.

I hear my friends and family screaming, just feet away, telling me to get up, and trying to send me words of encouragement through choked sobs. Alex is shouting and cursing at Niko and Lars, demanding that they let him go. Morgan cries for me, her words a babbled mess.

I really should stop torturing them. They obviously could not know that this was my plan all along: Let Aurora get cocky, and allow her to think that she’s gotten the upper hand. And the moment she feels she’s won, and looks up at Dorian with sickening pride, turn the tables and squash that slore like the filthy cockroach she is. Just thinking about it makes the Dark in me surge with exhilaration.

Sometimes you need to feed the beast, just to let it know that you haven’t abandoned it. And as long as it knows that you’ll still nurture that deluded side of your psyche—that part of your soul that cradles your brokenness—it will always serve you when you need it to.

Killing Aurora quickly would have been too easy. Murdering my mother, trying to kill Jared, backhandedly stealing Dorian…she deserves to feel the pain she’s caused me. And I want her to wear it like a cloak, walk around in it for the rest of her days. I want that pain to be so close and so real to her that it becomes imbedded in her skin. So every time she winces, she’ll remember my fucking name.

I shift my weight, planting my feet under me, and flip Aurora over so quickly that her head spins Exorcist-style. Before she can open her mouth to spit another nasty insult, I fill it with my fist, the metal over my knuckles shattering teeth like glass. She screams in pain, but it’s cut off the second I connect with her right eye, permanently stealing its sight and crushing the socket into rubble. When I raise my fist to deliver a devastating blow to that perfect little nose, I sense movement on my right, causing me to pause for a fraction of a second.

“I’ll kill you, you repulsive whore!” Dorian screams, arms outstretched. There’s hatred in his eyes. Pure, undiluted abhorrence. Never in my life did I ever think I would see that amount of disgust directed at me. Even when he told me he had to kill me, I could see it hurt him to admit it.

Now, there’s no pain in his murderous expression. He means it—he will kill me. And that realization feels like a blow within itself.

Blue fire snakes up his wrists, preparing to strike, his eyes going completely white. Alex and Niko try to advance, but Dorian is too fast, enraged by the sight of his love being pulverized into the ground. When he’s a mere breath from my face, I lift a hand, freezing him where he stands.

Everything around me stops. There’s no more shouting, no more crying. I don’t even hear the sickening sounds of Aurora’s blood pooling on the ground.

I look at the man I love, the stranger that lusts for my death. And for that second within a second, I let myself see him for what he is.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. And I am. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. Sorry for what I have to do now.

I flick my wrist, regenerating present time, and Dorian goes flying into the wall with enough force to form a crater in the plaster. He crumples to the ground unconscious, and the others rush to his side to start the spell. Still, I can’t forget the look on his face. It’s permanently burned into my retinas. He hates me. Hates me. And according to Stavros, he always did.

I scream out in hurt and frustration, letting my raised fist burrow into Aurora’s sinus cavity. That’s for Donna. I do it again, this time taking out her other eye. That’s for Jared. One more punch to the mouth, splitting her lips wide open. That’s for all the innocent humans.

I raise my bloodied fist, ready to dish out the final blow of vengeance—the one for Dorian—when someone grabs my hand.

“That’s enough!” Alex shouts. “You’ve made your point.”

“No! It’s not enough! She has to pay for what she’s done!”

Alex’s stern expression softens, but his hand stays tightly clasped around my wrist. “At what expense? Your soul? You’re not a killer, Gabriella. Don’t let her make you into something you’re not.”

I swallow down the taste of death on my tongue and look down at the minced mess of Aurora’s face. She’s breathing, although it’s a struggle now that her nose is nearly hanging off and she’s got a mouthful of bloody teeth. She’ll live. She won’t be so pretty for a while, but she’ll live.

The brass knuckles dissolve from my hands as the blind rage trickles out of me like tears. Alex helps lift me to my feet, my body suddenly weak and shaky. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me, despite all the blood and gore on my face and hands. I hear his quiet murmurs in the Dark tongue, telling me its ok. Reassuring me that I don’t have to be afraid. It’s all over now.

But it’s not over. Not yet.

“We gotta get him out of here,” Niko says, looking up at us from his place on the floor.

I break away from Alex’s embrace and kneel beside him. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know,” Lars says gravely, shaking his head. “The darkness in him runs so deep. His soul is nearly black. We won’t know until he wakes.”

“And we don’t want him waking up here,” Niko adds.

After quickly going over our exit plan, Lars and Alex hoist Dorian up, supporting his weight on their shoulders. We’re moving towards the door as swiftly as we can and Morgan screams out in excruciating pain.

“Ah! My leg!”

I look down to see that even in her brutalized state, Aurora has managed to stab Morgan in the ankle with one of her viciously long nails. She’s bleeding pretty heavily, and since she’s human, there’s no chance of her regenerating.

I don’t even think about what happens next. It’s as if my body has been temporarily separated from my mind. All I can do is feel the bones in her face crumbling under my boot. Hear the wet, sick sounds of tissue and brain matter being mashed into pulp. Smell the scent of fresh death hanging thickly in the air.

Aurora is dead. And I killed her. And I feel…nothing…about it.

“Come on!” Niko says, pulling my body away from the gruesome scene. She’s still on the bottom of my boot. I scrape my foot over the ground, but I can’t get her off. “Gabs, we have to go. I know the royals will send in more guards. Shit, they’ve probably called in the Shadow.”

I let him pull me away, my body still numb, still disjointed. It allows me to run down the hallway towards the throne room. The fighting has ceased for now, but there are several causalities. Denny tells us to go on, that he’ll ensure that everyone gets to safety once they handle the humans. I don’t know what that means, and I don’t ask. At this point, with my heart and mind so far apart, I can’t say if I even care.

I’m aware enough to manifest to the jet waiting for us on Crete. I even help Morgan get strapped into a seat while Niko and Alex secure Dorian. I watch as Lars rolls up her pant leg to heal her wound. They embrace, smiling up at each other lovingly, but I don’t see it. I don’t see any of them.

Blank eyes watch as we ascend into the clouds, away from Greece. Away from the evils that festered within the Dark kingdom.

Away from another piece of my humanity.

I SHOULD HAVE cried by now. Screamed…something. But I don’t. I don’t do anything but sit next to Dorian’s bedside in the white room, waiting for him to wake. Waiting to see if he’ll know me—love me—like he used to.

Lars says that he was farther gone than we all anticipated. And with his stellar bloodline and steel will, it was hard to infiltrate his magic with Light. So we sit and wait.

And pray.

When I refuse to leave Dorian’s side, Morgan brings in a fresh change of clothes and begins to silently undress me. I let her, too numb to fight her, yet aware enough to lift my arms over my head and stand to step out of my tattered pants. She washes away flakes of dried blood from my skin with a warm washcloth and brushes my hair. And when I’m dressed and somewhat normal, she brings in water and a sandwich, leaving them on the nightstand.

Niko is here too, although he doesn’t sit beside me. He takes residence in the armchair across the room, sitting as still as stone. We don’t speak. There’s nothing more to say. He’s made it clear that he’s here as Dorian’s brother, not my friend. Or whatever he had become.

However, the silence is nothing compared to the fear. Out of everything we’ve been through—all we’ve been faced with—I’ve never been more terrified than right now. It’s the uncertainty—the unknowing. The wishing for something so damn bad it hurts, yet knowing there’s a good chance you won’t get it.

I hate this feeling. I hate longing for things that are way beyond my control. I’ve fought and defeated my enemies today. I’ve killed. I’ve generated magic strong enough to turn bone into dust. Yet, the man on this bed can shatter me with one single look. Demolish me only with his words.

The reversal Stavros put on Dorian wasn’t irreversible, but it was tricky. And after all the hoping and praying that he would come back to us, we found out that he could very well regain his humanity, but with a 50/50 chance that his memories would be lost forever.

Dorian could be lost forever.

From the half-full perspective, he and I have a chance to fall in love all over again. Half empty? He’ll see that I’m really not as enticing now that the novelty is gone.

And what if the spell doesn’t work at all? What if he wakes up to be the same violent, evil prick we found back at the palace? Do we try again? Or do we just let him walk out of here?

And now that Stavros is dead, what does that make Dorian?

King.

Dorian is the new king of the Dark.

I thought this was the end of all the chaos and confusion, but I feel like it’s just beginning. The beginning of something…big. I just don’t know what it is.

“You should eat.”

My eyes snap to Niko, and I frown, wondering what made him break his vow of silence.

“You should eat,” he repeats. “You expelled a lot of energy. Food will help keep you strong until you’re able to replenish.”

I turn to the sandwich on the nightstand, take a small bite and put it down. Then I look back at Niko with an expression that says, There, ya happy?

A few more minutes of silence stretch between us, and we go back to what we were doing before: obsessing in a pit of denial.

“Have you heard anything about Cyrus?” I ask, my gaze still fixed on Dorian.

“Yes. He’s recuperating well. He was too weak to try to transport.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“And Denny said the Light Enchanters have intervened on behalf of the humans, cleansing them of the darkness in their bodies and sending them home. The Dark royals have gone underground. Without Stavros, they’re afraid to try to fight the mandate.”

“Good.” Sheesh. Broken record, anyone?

“The rest of the fallen children are celebrating. They’re finally free. Not even the Light will stand in their way. They’re scared it will end just as badly.”

I smile, imaging all those people who are free to love and be who they want to be. I’d imagine that there are many more out there just like them who have been hiding out of fear of punishment.

“Denny knows your mother. They had something.” It’s not a question.

“Yes. He’s over 400 years old. He knew my mother when they were children. They fell in love very young, but he was not deemed fit to make her his wife. She was betrothed to Stavros, and I don’t think Denny ever let it go.”

I nod, sending out a silent prayer for the sinfully sexual rocker and the queen. Delia was a young girl in love once. She had dreams, hopes and aspirations for her future. But politics and greed changed that. And Stavros…he just has a way of sucking the joy from the very marrow of your bones. Maybe she’ll get another shot with Denny. Maybe she’ll learn to love again.

“I suspect he will return to join her at court,” Niko says, reading my mind. “You know, now that she is queen consort. She will seek his counsel, among other things.”

“And what about you? Will you go back as well?”

I hear the rustle of fabric, signaling a shrug. “I suppose I would, if she summoned me.”

“And Dorian?” I grimace as I say his name, the image of him taking the Dark throne flashing in my mind. “Will you serve him once he becomes king?”

“If he requires it.” He falls quiet for a beat, but I can still hear the question burning on his tongue. He doesn’t even have to ask. “And you? Will you serve him?”

I force myself to just focus on the rise and fall of Dorian’s chest, reminding myself that he’s alive. He’s safe, for now. That’s what’s important. “I don’t know.” I touch his face, the ring he gave me—the one on my left hand—glittering against the dim candlelight. The one that mocks me, telling me that I’m nothing but a kept woman. “He won’t…have me. Not in the way a king needs to have a woman.”

Niko’s silence speaks volumes. He knows I’m right. Dorian will never marry me. And once he is king, he’ll need a wife. One that can provide him with an heir.

Someone that is not me.

“You saved him just to let him go.”

“Yes.”

“You knew all along what this meant, yet you did it anyway. You risked your life for him, knowing that it couldn’t work.”

“Yes.”

Niko laughs sardonically. I look over to find him leaning over, his head in his hands. “What kind of love is that? How could something that’s supposed to bring you joy and triumph be so painful?”

“It’s not love. It’s insanity.”

He lifts his face from his palms, and meets my eyes. I see that the pain of love he spoke about wasn’t for me or Dorian, it was for him. That was his hurt, his anguish. I’m not the only one who’s insane.

“Why do we let them do this to us?” he asks, his voice a broken whisper.

“Do what?”

“Leave us.” An iridescent speck rolls down his cheek, almost masked by the comfort of the shadows.

“Because we’re stupid. And because we’d rather have a moment of happiness than a lifetime of loneliness.”

Niko makes a noise in his throat, as if my words strangle him. I turn away, allowing him to suffer in private.

“We love the unlovable,” he murmurs. “We save the unsaveable.”

“It’s a sickness.”

“It’s masochism.”

I nod, but I don’t say a word. We’ve already said it all.

The others check on us periodically to see if there is any change. Now, it’s Lars’s turn, whose ragged expression tells me that he’s weary. Saving Dorian has taken a toll on him, and he’s running on fumes. When he leans over to check his vitals, I gently grasp his arm.

“Lars, you’ve given so much of yourself. Is there anything I can do?”

Just as I expect him to, he shakes his head. Breathing is intimate, an act shared by lovers. Me giving to Lars…him taking me inside him…it wouldn’t be right.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must decline,” he replies, giving me a warm smile.

I nod in response. “Just let me know if it gets too—”

Pain.

So so so much pain.

Ripping through my back, slicing through skin and sinew and bone. Carving me in half with a blazing hot machete. I cry out, nearly collapsing onto the floor. Strong arms are the only thing holding me up, and my eyes are shut so tight, I can’t even tell who it is.

“Get it off me! Get it off!” I scream, clawing at my shirt.

Instantly, there’s a rip of fabric and cool air hits my skin. Still, it’s not enough to extinguish the fire crawling up my back. I can smell my own flesh burning and taste vomit on the back of my tongue. I force it back down, grateful that I didn’t eat much. My trembling body begins to sway as everything around grows dim. The shaking increases, shudders rolling through my body as if someone has dumped me in a pool of ice water.

“She’s going to pass out! Someone do something!” I hear Morgan shriek, but her voice is far away.

“I can take her pain away. I can heal her.” I feel Lars’s hand on my naked shoulders, but I bat it away with a shaky hand.

“No…no…need…this,” I stammer through chattering teeth.

I won’t be able to hold on much longer, but I have to. I refuse to let this brand—Aurora’s brand—take me under. I let out another scream, releasing the pain, and I feel the sides of my mouth split. Blood oozes onto my tongue, but I don’t feel the sting. I am beyond pain. Beyond feeling anything else besides the sensation of my back being flayed raw. Still, I scream. I scream until my vocal cords are stripped. And when no more sound comes out, I cry silently beside Dorian, my sweat-slicked forehead pressed into the comforter.

Minutes, hours, days pass. I’m not even sure. I just know that I’ve stopped screaming. And I’m completely exhausted. Someone drapes a blanket around my shoulders once the chills start. I can’t even lift my head to see who it is, or even speak to thank them. But I’m grateful. So grateful that they sat through this with me as I battled the last of that demon. Aurora can’t hurt me anymore, even from the grave.

The pain has finally subsided enough for me to doze off, and I sprint towards the edges of sleep. Someone touches my hair gently, soothing me into slumber. I hear gasps and murmurs around me, but none of it makes sense. Sounds just blend together in slow motion, the chopped and screwed version of the aftermath.

“Little girl,” I hear a raspy voice say.

I smile against the comforter. Ah, yes. This is a good dream. The kind that I never want to wake up from.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I left you.”

The stroking of my hair, the sound and smell of him…Dream Dorian almost seems real. So real that I know it will kill me when I wake, only to discover that he’s not there.

The bed shifts beside me, and with eyes still closed, I frown. No. Someone wants to take him away. I need this right now. I have nothing left to hold onto.

The hand travels from the crown of my head, down to the side of my neck. I remember that touch. The feel of his skin on mine is something I could never, ever forget. His fingerprint is permanently embedded in my flesh.

“I tried. I tried to come back to you. I felt you with me—always. It killed me inside to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” I ask Dream Dorian. What else do I have to lose? If talking to a figment of my imagination is what it takes to be close to him, then that’s what I’ll do.

“I couldn’t fight it. It was like being petrified inside myself. I could see and hear, but I was powerless. But I knew you would fight. I knew you wouldn’t let me go.”

The fingers slide to my chin, forcing my head up from the bed. I try to struggle against it, but there’s no fight left in me.

“Open your eyes, little girl.”

I try to shake my head, refusing to abandon this beautiful delusion, but my head is just too heavy. The hand cradles my cheek lovingly and brushes away frustrated tears.

“It’s ok. I’m here now. You don’t have to fight anymore. Let me fight for you.”

“Dorian?” There’s only a strangled whisper left.

“Yes, Gabriella. I’m here. I’m here, baby.”

I force my eyelids open, fully expecting to find that this dream is really just a cruel nightmare. However, blue eyes stare back at me, bordered by long, dark lashes. Full, lush lips spread into a crooked smile. Smooth, tan skin warms against me with vitality.

He sighs with relief, and I feel his cool breath fan across my face. Another hand reaches towards me, and begins to pull me into the bed beside him. And when his lips cover mine, tasting of regret and bliss and love, I know without a doubt that this isn’t a dream. Dorian has come back to me.

A surge of adrenaline spikes in my veins, and I nearly tackle him. “You’re…here. You know me. But…how…why…”

Dorian laughs, and there’s color in my world again. “Of course, I know you. And I love you. Hear me now—I love you, Gabriella. And I never stopped. I promise you that.”

I grip his body, holding onto him like he’s going to slip away again. Praying that this isn’t some sick joke that will take my Dorian from me for good. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, remembering his scent of ocean and rainwater, and cry grateful tears. Something I haven’t done in a long, long time.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” I hear Niko say beside us. Dorian shifts as they embrace, but his arms come right back around me.

“Glad to have you back, brother,” Alex says, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Alexander,” Dorian says, his voice pensive. “Please forgive me. I promise you, I—”

“No need,” my father says, a smile in his voice. The two shake hands before giving into a one-armed bro hug.

Morgan hugs him next, playfully smacking him for scaring the shit out of us. When he tries to apologize for putting a knife to her throat, her response is much like Alex’s.

“Just love my girl. That’s how you can make it up to me. Love her and never let her go.”

Dorian murmurs a heartfelt response, causing Morgan to break into a soft sob as she steps aside to let Lars through.

“Thank you,” Dorian says, shaking his hand. “You are an incredibly courageous soul, and I am grateful of the sacrifice you made to give me my life back. I am in your debt. Whatever you desire, it is yours.”

I look up to see Lars bow his head. “It was my honor to serve Gabriella. And if there is anything I could request, it is that you rule with compassion and fairness for all of the Divine’s creatures. And may your reign be a long and prosperous one.”

“Reign?” Dorian frowns, looking to Niko, who nods, his expression regretful.

“Father. He is…dead. Slain at the hands of our mother.” He steps forward and takes his brother’s hand. “The throne is yours now, brother.”

Dorian falls quiet and still, frozen in shock. I watch his face for any signs of a reaction—joy, shame, sadness—but he’s blank. As if the thought of being king doesn’t affect him at all.

“We still have much to discuss,” Niko recovers. “Obviously, you will have to meet with—”

Dorian raises a hand, halting any further talk about his newly acquired position. “There will be time for that. But first…first, there’s something I must do.”

He shifts beside me so his body is facing mine, and takes my hands in his. “Gabriella, I’ve walked the earth for two and a half decades, searching for the other half of my soul. I’ve done unspeakable things in that quest and, in turn, have experienced tremendous pain. But nothing has ever wounded me more than hurting you. A link may no longer lie between us, but I will always shoulder your pain. I will always share your joy. And no matter what, I will always love you with every breath in my body. When I met you, I didn’t just find the other half of my soul, I found the reason for every heartbeat. Every teardrop. Every ounce of blood in my veins. You are my life, little girl. My everything. And if you will have me, I would be honored to be your husband.”

Wide eyes explore his, searching for any signs of jest. “What?”

He smiles at my flabbergasted expression, those lips doing devious things to my stuttering heart. “Marry me, Gabriella.”

“But you said…you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. And now you’re king.”

“And as king, I want you by my side. As my wife and my queen. I’ve wasted so much time without you. I can’t wait another second.”

I shake my head in disbelief, trying to make sense of what he’s offering. “But, I can’t…I can’t give you an heir. I can’t give you what you want. What you need.”

His hands grasp my cheeks, so I’m forced to see the earnestness on his face. “The only thing I want and need is you, Gabriella. Nothing else matters, and I mean that down to the very marrow of my bones. So say yes. Say you’ll be mine for eternity. Because I can live without an heir. I can’t live without you.”

I look over at my friends and family, seeing varied looks of excitement and joy reflected on their faces. Even Niko looks genuinely content. He tips his head to me, telling me it’s ok. That he’ll be ok. And no matter what, I won’t lose him.

“Yes,” I breathe, turning back to Dorian’s expectant face. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes, I will marry you, Dorian!”

The room breaks into cheers and more joyful tears as Dorian wraps me in his arms, squeezing the air from my lungs. I don’t complain. I relish his sweet suffocation. My Dorian is back, and he’s mine. Forever.

“I love you, little girl,” he whispers, kissing the side of my face. His mouth moves to capture mine in a kiss that makes my soul weep. “In life and in death,” he mumbles against my lips. “From now until eternity. And when we’re nothing more than dust and bone, I’ll love you some more, because you are my destiny. I was placed on this earth to love you, and no curse or spell or enemy force could ever take you away from me.”

The earth shifts on its axis as two great forces of nature collide, folding into one another. Existing only for the other to thrive. This man—this mighty storm—is my sole reason of being. And when I fell in love with him, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the gravity of this beautifully insane life. And I fell into forever.

WHEN THE THREAD of your existence has been stretched and pulled to the threat of breaking more times than you can count, you don’t waste time with human, social formalities.

No.

You get married within 24 hours of the proposal.

At least, that’s how Dorian explained it. And I have to say, I couldn’t agree more. Why let another second go by when we both know how we want to spend eternity? What would we be waiting for?

We’ve suffered through the unthinkable. Lived through trials and tribulations that should have otherwise claimed our last breaths. And now…now we’re free. And I can’t think of any other way that I want to spend our newly gained freedom than becoming Dorian’s wife.

His wife.

It almost doesn’t seem real. Every time I feel our relationship has taken a turn for the better, malevolence derails us from our path, sending us into a tailspin of tragedy. I thought we’d never get off that ride. And now there’s nothing standing in our way. No secret evil that wants to tear us apart. Dorian will be king, and he will work to right the wrongs set forth by his people, hoping to push his race back to their true purpose: the rulers of Night. They were never inherently evil; they were just corrupted by those who were.

Once Dorian announced that we would be wed the very next day—today—Morgan jumped into planning. With Lars’s help, she arranged a cake, catering, flowers, décor and even a dress. I could only sit back and let her take the reins. The girl is a beast in her own right. I swear, she could probably run her own small country, all the while remaining stylish from the top of her Brazilian blowout to the tips of her shellac pedicure.

So here I am, draped in sheer, ivory lace and intricate, champagne beading by Inbal Dror while Morgan fusses over my hair. Luckily, the gown is nontraditional and daring without being too sexy. It’s absolutely stunning, and I could not imagine marrying Dorian in anything else.

“There! Perfect!” she trills, taking a step back to admire her handiwork. Everything from my makeup to my shoes is all her doing, and her talent amazes me.

I stand to gaze at myself, and gasp at the girl who looks back at me. Soft smoky lids frame her dual-colored eyes, her cheeks are flush with a shimmering shade of coral and her full lips glimmer with a nude-pink tint. A thousand ringlets are fastened with a diamond-studded hair comb at the nape of her neck, leaving a few wispy tendrils to frame her face. She’s beautiful—the perfect bride on this perfect day.

“Oh, God, Morgan,” I whisper, lips trembling. I turn around to take her in my arms, almost knocking her off her strappy gold heels. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

She squeezes me back with all her might. “You deserve it, sweetheart. You deserve the world.”

We hold each other for several minutes before pulling away, smiling through soft sniffles.

“Now I know it’s a human thing, but humor me,” she says, resting her hands on my shoulders from behind. “I was bestowed the honor of providing your something old.”

Morgan reveals a small box, heavily decorated in tulle and pearls. “It required some help from Alex, but we thought you should have this today of all days.”

I open the box to find the photograph that changed my world. Chris, Donna, Natalia, Alexander and Dorian stand together, laughing…loving. And there, resting peacefully within my mother’s womb, is me. I run my finger over the spot where her hands cradle her belly, trying to conjure what it would have felt like to have those arms wrapped around me. And while I may have never felt her embrace or the warmth of her smile, I know that she’s always been with me. That little voice in my head—comforting me when I was weak, helping me when I was lost—my mother. I knew it all along.

“Thank you,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. I try to blink them away, knowing Morgan will pitch a fit if I smudge my mascara. Or maybe not, judging by her watery gaze.

She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me with all her might. “I love you, Gabs, and I’m just so thankful that I could share this day with you.” She steps away, swiping the space under her eyes. “Maybe one day, we’ll do this for me. Although, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to turn in my Playa Card just yet.”

We both laugh. “What? Don’t think Lars has what it takes to take you off the market?”

“Girl, we’ll see. It’s too early to tell, but anything is possible.”

We embrace once more before she slips out to check on final details. Not even two seconds after she’s gone, there’s a knock on the door. It’s Lars.

“I hope I’m not disturbing anything,” he says, filling the entire room with his presence. He’s dressed in a light colored suit, paired with a soft gold tie with blue accents—our wedding colors. His shoulder-length blonde hair is tied behind his head, making his fine features seem even prettier than ever.

“No, no, come in,” I say, waving him in.

From behind his back, he presents another small box, this one dressed in glittering, gold-spun ribbon. “I was honored with the task of providing your something new.” He takes the liberty of opening the delicate box with his massive-sized hands, then he holds up a thin Bvlgari chain with a two-toned pendant of the sun. “This necklace is new, but the spell that has been cast over it is an old one. My people—our people—have been using it to bless brides and their bridegrooms with an eternity of happiness, love and Light.”

He steps behind me to fasten it around my neck. The tiny sun sits perfectly at the crevice of my cleavage, warming to my skin. “You, Dark Light, have provided hope to those who were hopeless. You gave us something to rally behind—to believe in. And your image will forever be a beacon of faith. I ask that you wear this symbol of the Light, and allow it to be the same for you.”

I turn around to face him and wrap my arms around the gentle giant. He’s startled at first, but then I feel his strong arms cocoon me in warmth.

After Lars leaves, I am furiously trying to fix my eye makeup when my father knocks on the door. Oh great. There’s no way I’m getting through this without crying my face off.

We sit on the edge of the bed, and I quietly bite back tears. I know anything he gives me will be extremely special.

“Something borrowed,” he says, his voice thoughtful. He gently takes my hands. “I wish I could have provided you with a piece of your mother. I would have given anything to allow her just a moment with you. You must know that she loved you with every fiber of her being, and leaving you was not by choice.”

“I know,” I nod.

Alexander smiles, yet it doesn’t touch his eyes. I can see the memory of my mother still kills him inside. “We were so fortunate when Donna and Chris opened their arms and their lives to you. No matter what, I know that they cared for you as their own. And because of that, your something borrowed is from the woman that was as much your mother as my Natalia.”

He pulls another small box from his pocket, this one dressed in different shades of blue, and opens it. Sitting among a pallet of soft velvet is a pair of gorgeous pearl earrings. He takes one between his fingers, and I instantly brush aside a curl to give him access to my ear.

“These were a gift from Natalia to Donna on her wedding day,” he explains, fastening it with gentle care. He picks up the other and moves to the other side. “She found the pearls herself, off the coast of Indonesia. She loved Donna. The two of them were inseparable. And I believe that on some level, the two shared a bond that allowed them to love you with one heart.”

Oh hell. That’s it. There’s no chance of salvaging my makeup after that. And at this point, I don’t even care.

I wrap my trembling arms around my dad’s neck and silently sob, grateful for the memory and the gift. Today, as I walk down the aisle to meet the man of my dreams, I will carry a piece of both my mothers, hoping that they’re looking down on me, smiling and laughing together as they did years ago.

When I pull away, there’s moisture on Alex’s cheeks, which he quickly swipes away before climbing to his feet. He clears his throat and diverts his eyes to the wall, trying to get a hold on his emotions. “I understand these are to be borrowed. However, I don’t think anyone would expect you to return them.”

I smile gratefully, and Alex turns towards the door. Before he touches the handle, he looks up at me, pride shining from those watery blue eyes. “I’m so proud of you. And grateful that you’ve given me the honor of escorting you down the aisle. I know I haven’t earned it, and I would understand if you would rather have Chris here to give you away. But as it stands, I am humbled that you have chosen me.”

I nod, carefully contemplating my next words. “I would have loved for him to be here. But I’m glad you’re here too. Thanks…Dad.”

Alexander blinks several times before bowing his head. Then he disappears from the room.

Which leaves my something blue.

Niko.

Just as quickly as his name appears in my mind, he appears before me, so unbelievably handsome in his suit and tie, his hair a sexy tumble of black waves that touch the tops of his eyebrows. His intense gaze sweeps over my body as he strides over to where I sit on the bed. We don’t speak for several minutes. He just stands there, looking down at me, bearing the weight of the universe, yet showing no signs of weakness.

I thought I loved Jared once. And maybe human Gabs did. But it was nothing like loving Dorian, not by a long shot. However, loving Niko…it could have been pretty damn close. Maybe there will always be a part of me that will wonder how it could have been between us. Maybe I’ll look at him from across the table at Thanksgiving dinner and blush when he smiles at me. But I’ll never go any further. The type of love I have for Niko…it goes beyond conventional romance. It’ll never need the complications of intimacy. I’ll never have to categorize it with labels or terms of endearment. He’s a part of me, and I will carry him with me today, tomorrow and every day for eternity.

Wordlessly, he touches his fingers to my face, sliding the soft pads along my jaw. I lean into it and close my eyes, as we communicate without saying anything at all.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. But you don’t have to be.”

“I hurt you.”

“Baby girl, I was hurt a long time ago.”

I look up to meet his eyes, my own rimming with fresh tears. He smiles down at me and captures a stray droplet just as it begins to roll down my cheek. And just like he did that night in his bedroom, he places his finger in his mouth, and sucks away my anguish.

I’m about to break the silence and tell him that I’ll always care for him—I’ll always love him—when a shift in the atmosphere causes the air around us to crackle with energy. I gasp, feeling the pressure in my lungs, as the oxygen in the room is sucked out like a vacuum. I reach out to Niko, eyes wide with horror as I gasp for breath. Then, in a blur of dark smoke, I’m catapulted on to the floor, clear against the other side of the room.

“No!” I hear him shout, spinning around in a fury of darkness. His human form dissolves into broken molecules as something terrifying and wraithlike takes its place. His true form.

I only glimpse it for a mere half second before there’s a violent flash of electric light and the screech of metal. I cover my face to shield my eyes, but when I look up, he’s no longer there. Instead, I’m staring into the eyes of pure, undiluted evil. The epitome of death reincarnate in its most brutal form.

Stavros.

“No!” I scream, realizing what’s just happened.

I levitate to my feet, powered by sheer horror and rage. Stavros makes a move towards me but he stops in his tracks, as an electric current hums over my entire body. Every molecule within me mutates into light, and my blood transforms into glowing, hot lava. I’ve shifted into something else, something not of this world. And judging by the look on his face, it’s not of his world either.

With a scream, I release it all into him, my magic pouring out of me like an endless stream of liquid gold. It burrows into his chest, infiltrating muscle and bone, replacing flesh with fire. His voice breaks in a shriek, before the fire incinerates his vocal cords. Flames enrapture his entire body for just a moment. Then, there’s a deafening bang that shatters every glass in the room as Stavros’s burning body explodes like a dying star.

I sag back into my human form, my body landing beside where Niko lies on his back. Pushing away the fatigue, I frantically bend over his body and cradle his head in my lap. He’s convulsing, his back bowing off the floor in writhing pain. As he gasps, his lungs struggling for air, blood gurgles from his throat and slips down the corners of his mouth.

He’s dying.

Niko is dying. Right here in my arms.

“Somebody help me!” I scream as loud as I can, wretched tears streaming down my face in a waterfall. The door bursts open, and Dorian is on Niko’s other side, helping to bear his weight.

“What happened to him?” he shrieks, hysteria in his voice.

“He…Stavros…he…saved….me…” I manage to choke out between sobs. I take a deep breath, and try to collect what little sanity I have left. “Help…me. Help me save him.”

Lars is right there, already rolling up his sleeves. We both press our light-drenched hands over his body, but there’s no change. We try again. And again. And again. But nothing is working.

“Change him! Make him a vampire!” I shriek at Dorian, who quickly flies into the task. He can’t get a grip on his emotions long enough to be of help. Alex tries, but Niko’s body is rejecting the magic. It’s as if he’s…blocking it.

Niko grasps my arm with a weak, shaky grip and pulls me toward him, his glazed eyes desperately trying to convey a message. His mouth moves slowly but the only thing that comes out is more blood, staining his teeth with the color of death. The same violent color that is now soaked through my dress.

“What is it, Niko?” I ask as calmly as possible. I brush the hair off his forehead, feeling the cold clamminess of his skin. “I’m here. We’re all here for you. Just hold on, ok? Just hold on for me.”

“He said stop,” Morgan whispers, dropping down on her knees next to me. Her body sags with regret. “He wants you to stop. He wants to die.”

“No!” Dorian roars, gripping his brother’s arms. Tears fall from his face, leaving salty little droplets on his now-bloodstained tux.

“It’s what he wants,” Morgan says, her gaze going vacant as she stares at the opposite wall. “He wants…he wants to go to her. He wants to be with her. She came back for him.”

“Morgan, stop talking crazy! I will not give up on him!” I look down at Niko’s unfocused eyes. He meets my gaze, but I can tell he’s already given up. He’s already leaving me. And he seems almost…peaceful…about it. “You promised! You promised me you’d always stay with me! Please don’t do this!”

I’m losing it, shaking uncontrollably. I look over at Dorian, who isn’t faring much better than me, just as Alex wraps his arms around him. Morgan grabs my bloody hand, yet her eyes are still fixed on the wall.

“It’s ok, Gabs. She said…she said that she can take care of him now. And she’s grateful….grateful to you. For loving him.”

“Who?” The word is just a rasp of a whisper in my throat.

Morgan tears her gaze from across the room slowly turning her head as if she’s following something. Or someone. When her focus comes to the empty space right beside me, just above Niko’s head, she finally looks at me.

“Amelie,” she breathes. “Amelie is here to take him. You have to let him go, Gabs. He wants this. He’ll finally find peace.”

I shake my head furiously, refusing to believe her words, although I know they’re true. “I can’t,” I cry. “I can’t.”

A soft, trembling finger touches my cheek, and I look up. It’s Niko, and he’s moving his mouth again, trying to tell me something. I move down over him, placing my ear as close to his face as I can. His voice is just a choked whisper, too faint and strangled to understand, but I hear him. I hear him loud and clear. And I know what this means for him. For us.

“To save her…you must love her.”

Then with the last remnants of life in his body, he smiles that smile that I love so much, giving over to the heavy current of death…finding his peace after centuries of darkness. Joining his beloved to live amongst the stars, where there’s no pain or grief or loneliness.

Go on, beautiful one. You’re free now.

Nikolai Skotos dies in my arms, the red stain of his life saturating the ivory lace of my wedding dress. And while I cry so hard that I choke on my tears—so hard that it feels like my chest may explode, leaving my broken heart in a puddle on the floor—I know I have to let him go.

I wasn’t the only one with a destiny. He had a mission, just like Dorian did.

To save her…you must love her.

He did.

MY LIFE IS a beautiful tragedy.

A sad love story on an endless loop. The players may evolve and the setting may change, but it’s always the same. Love. Pain. Death. Repeat.

We’re just waiting for the end. Waiting to take a bow and let the curtain close so we can quietly escape backstage where normalcy awaits.

But does it really end? Will we ever truly find peace?

Niko did.

He gave his life for mine. He used his own body as a shield, because somewhere in his lovely, convoluted mind, he felt like my existence was worth more than his. And for some God-forsaken reason, he chose to absorb the massive ball of power that Stavros had wielded in a desperate attempt to destroy me once and for all. How stupid. How completely stupid and courageous.

Niko was selfless. Brave. Loyal.

And now he’s free.

I drowned in my tears for 48 hours. I didn’t even breathe. I mourned that man like I had lost a piece of myself. Like someone had sliced off an arm or a leg with a rusty blade, leaving it to fester in the hot sun. I grieved that part of me, shaking and sobbing as Dorian held me tight, rocking our bodies back and forth. And when I was too weak and exhausted to shed anymore tears, he cried for me. For he had lost…everything.

The day of our would-be wedding, Dorian lost everything.

His brother, his father. And his mother.

Stavros was not as dead as we’d thought when we left Skiathos. And after his body had been moved, his spirit lived, seeking out his attempted killer, consuming all her magic until she was no more than a dry, empty carcass.

With what little power he had left, combined with Delia’s, he manifested to Niko’s home. The wards had been weakened, as we were expecting guests for the wedding, their mother included. We had nothing left to fear. Our enemies were dead, and it was a day of hope and victory. It was a time to celebrate the union of the future Dark king and his soon-to-be queen.

But that never happened.

And honestly, I don’t think I want it to.

There may always be the dark stain of death on our relationship. I love Dorian with all my heart. But when will it end? When will we just be allowed to be?

And I wonder…will I be enough for him?

His family is dead. His faith is diminished. What more do we have to live for? What can I give him to make him whole again?

He looks at me with reverence and love, just as he always has, but I know the pain that’s twisting within him. I know the coldness of his soul. And I would give anything to fill that vacancy with warmth and love. I just don’t know if it’s possible.

We board a plane to Skiathos to pay our respects to the fallen prince and queen. I don’t remember the flight. I just keep staring out the window, praying that the heavens swallow me whole, leaving me exempt of any further suffering. I want to check out, but I can’t. I can’t leave Dorian to do this alone. I won’t let him go through this by himself.

So I squeeze his hand and let him pull me to rest against his chest. I let him breathe the crown of my head when his body grows weary. And the nights when grief makes the physical pain too much to bear, I let him make love to me. We both need it. It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt.

I smile at Dorian as he brushes his lips across my knuckles. Since that day…he hasn’t stopped touching me, especially after he witnessed the pain of the Skotos brand rip through my back. So, now he loves me with such gentleness and care—as if I’ll break. He kisses me constantly, telling me how much he loves me—needs me. Telling me that no matter what, we’ll be together. Forever.

Forever.

That word no longer holds any weight for me. Because there is no such thing as forever. There is no eternity. Everything has its end, and what we have today may not be here tomorrow.

Niko taught me that.

I thought that beautiful man would live forever. I imagined my future with him in it, still the same brash bastard with a smile that would light up the night sky. And when I would act like a brat, he wouldn’t hesitate to give me a harsh, hefty dose of perspective. And I would love him for his honesty, because he got me. In some ways, he was me.

I recognized his secret sadness. I felt the longing in his heart like it was my own. His soul had been crying for far too long, and in the process, part of him went numb. The part that missed Amelie too much. The part that would never, ever get over her death.

I hated him for submitting to death, but I understood him. He’d always be a prisoner of that numbness. He’d never feel again without her. And as much as he tried to move on—as much as he willed his heart to open to someone else—it was already too late. He loved her with every part of himself. And death was the only way he could be whole again.

I’ll never know if Niko knew he would die that day. Maybe even on some level he suspected his demise would be a result of saving my life. But I know that I’ll carry him with me always. And he’ll be looking down at me, Amelie at his side, shaking his head as he laughs heartily at something crazy I’ve done. Or beaming with pride at his brother, as he leads their people with integrity and compassion. Or just smiling that dazzling smile that could eclipse the lights of Times Square. Just because.

You’re free now, Niko. You’ve finally found your peace. You don’t have to be alone anymore. You’ll never know pain again.

And, God, I envy that.

My life is a beautiful tragedy.

And I’m just waiting for the end.

THE MEMORIAL TO honor Niko and Delia is as grand and gorgeous as we knew it would be. The kingdom spares no expense, and Dorian allows it, wanting only the best to lay his family to rest. Their ashes are presented in large, ornate urns. Otherworldlings from around the globe come to pay their respects, kneeling at the vases and presenting gifts to the deceased. They sing songs of an afterlife with the Divine. They dance jovially as they celebrate their lives. And when mourning has depleted their strength, they have a great feast.

“How are you?” Dorian asks, sliding his palm against mine. He’d been worried about any anxiety I would feel about coming back here, but honestly, I’m fine. There’s no place I’d rather be than with the people I love.

“Good,” I reply. And I may mean it.

I smile as Morgan approaches, Lars glued to her side. After everything that’s happened, she’s not ready to go back home to Colorado Springs, and the blonde Light warrior has vowed to follow her wherever she goes. He’s fallen for her…hard. I understand why. Morgan is just way too easy to love.

She kisses both my cheeks before moving to hug Dorian, drawing dozens of shocked and curious eyes. It is forbidden to even approach the throne, let alone embrace the king. But this is Dorian. And when you’ve lost more relatives than you have left in the span of a few days, you show love to the people that matter to you. Civilities be damned.

As it stands, Dorian has not yet officially taken the throne. He isn’t ready to, and I don’t blame him. There’s so much hurt attached to that title, for him and every supernatural creature on earth. They know change is coming—they can feel it. And the fact that he’s opened up the kingdom for all—Light, Dark, vampires, werewolves, humans—is inspiring hope.

Hope.

That’s all we have. And maybe, it’s all we need.

Alexander emerges from the crowd and makes his way up the steps where we’re stationed in the banquet hall. He greets us all warmly, also feeling the need to be more open and affectionate. When he wraps his arms around me, I hold on a little longer. I’m not ready to let go of my dad. I may not ever be. And now that we have a second shot at a relationship, I don’t want to spend a single second of this life without him knowing how much he means to me.

I’ve lost parts of who I was in the past few weeks. Small, yet painful bits like Jared and my old friends in Colorado, as well as larger, essential limbs like Donna, Chris and Niko. But I have Morgan, and now Lars, to replace those parts and hold me up again. Alex is here to fill the empty space left behind from losing my parents. And I have my heart—the most necessary piece of me—I have Dorian.

Tired of sitting still, I suggest we make our way into the crowd and socialize, something that’s unheard of for the king. But Dorian happily obliges, taking my hand to lead me into the festivities. Flanked by Morgan, Lars and Alex, we smile, shake hands, and embrace people. When we see Denny Nox, the five of us instantly surround him with love and heartfelt words. He lost too. A friend and a lover. But his friendship and bravery will not go unnoticed, by his people, or by his new king.

“Denny,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry. But…thank you. Thank you for everything. What you did that day—bringing people here and ensuring the safety of those innocent humans—was nothing short of a miracle. But how did you know? How could you have known our plans?”

Denny smiles, but the warmth in the gesture doesn’t touch his eyes. “Niko. He called me, telling me what your intentions were, but he didn’t ask for help. He just thought I should be here just in case Delia…” His voice breaks, and he looks down. Dorian rests a hand on his shoulder, telling him it’s ok. No need to say anymore.

Niko wanted him here to rescue Delia. If things turned ugly, he wanted someone there for her. It was risky—seeing as Delia had changed so drastically since marrying Stavros. Part of her soul had been corrupted as well, but her heart was the same. And it still knew Daneus Deleazó.

We all embrace him once more before moving on to allow him to handle his grief in private. Dorian told him that he is welcome to any room in the palace for as long as he wishes. He also offers the same to the rest of our friends. I hope they all accept the invitation.

When we see Cyrus sitting at a table, still bruised and bandaged, my heart sinks into my gut. He had been bed-ridden when we were attacked at Niko’s mansion. He wanted to attend the wedding, but his body was still on the mend. Yet, nothing but death could have kept him from his cousin’s memorial service.

Dorian pulls him in for a hug, holding the giant, 6 foot 6 inch vampire to him with such ferocity that it has to physically hurt. Still, neither pulls away for several minutes. They’re family. And Niko… Niko was the glue that kept them together. Cyrus had served the younger Skotos for decades, both as his close confidant and personal guard. He was never made to feel less than worthy of their family. Niko saw to that.

“I want you by my side when I take the throne,” Dorian tells him when he pulls away.

Cyrus bows his head. “It would be an honor to serve you, sire.”

“No.” Dorian claps a hand on the larger man’s shoulder. “Not as my servant. I want you on my personal counsel.”

Cyrus is flabbergasted, his red eyes darting from me to Dorian, waiting for the punch line. “I don’t understand. Your personal counsel? What would the other seven families say?”

“Well. They will say nothing other than to express their congratulations if they want to remain at court.” Dorian takes a deep breath and steps forward so that Cyrus can see the truth in his stare. “You are my family, Cyrus. Therefore, you will walk beside me. Not behind me. I need you, cousin.”

The vampire grunts out a cough, no doubt feeling a knot in his throat. Dorian pats him on the back.

“You think about it and get back to me when you can.”

Cyrus bows his head once again. And as we turn away, I catch a glimpse of a single, red drop of blood sliding down his face.

“That was sweet of you,” I whisper to Dorian as he threads his fingers through mine. “He needed that.”

“We both did,” he replies. “And I meant it. Cyrus is fiercely loyal, as well as intelligent. He always has been. And while I know he loathes what he is, I’m not sorry for saving him. And if I could’ve done the same…”

I squeeze his hand, and pause mid-step, prompting him to turn around to face me. “You did all that you could, and I am proud of you. And you know he is somewhere up there, looking down at you and feeling that same sense of pride. He loved you, Dorian. He admired you. And he would not have wanted to live the rest of his days as anything other than your younger brother. We have to let him go, baby. This is what he wanted. To find peace.”

Dorian leans forward and kisses my forehead to hide the flash of pain on his face. But he knows I’m right. Niko would have hated being turned. That wouldn’t have been a life for him.

We’ve resumed our advance into the crowd when someone grasps my hand. I think it’s Morgan behind me, trying to get my attention, but I find that it’s a tiny elderly lady sitting at one of the banquet tables. Her hair is the color of freshly fallen snow, and stops at her waist. She wears a long, brown robe that looks like burlap. And her eyes…her eyes are opaque.

“Excuse me,” I say politely, leaning forward. “Are you alright?”

The woman doesn’t meet my gaze, yet she peers at the connection of our conjoined hands, her wrinkled face focused in wonder. “You burn, child. There is holy fire within you.”

“She’s blind,” Alex murmurs from over my shoulder. “The oracles are always blind. Yet, they see.”

“I’m sorry,” I say to the woman who still hasn’t let go of my hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No. No help required, child. For I am here to help you. You see, there is life within the fire. You need not be afraid, for it is good. And strong.” And just as quickly as she grasped my hand, her palms are on my abdomen—boney, pale fingers against the silk of my dress. “Yes, good indeed. A fighter. Yet, there is compassion within the tiny heart. And love.”

She lifts her chin and aligns her eyes with mine as if she can see right through me. See right into the depths of my soul. “It loves you, child,” she rasps, before turning those haunted eyes on Dorian. “And you, its father.”

I gasp aloud and take a step back, placing my trembling fingers against my lips. “But…but that’s impossible. I’m cursed. I…I can’t…” I look to Dorian who is as white as a sheet, his own gaze wide with bewilderment.

The old woman smiles, revealing more gums than teeth. “The life you have lost lives within you. It stays with you now.” Then as if she were in a trance, she shudders, blinks a few times and turns back around to her meal.

I can’t think. I can’t feel. I just keep trembling, as a thousand emotions flood my body at max speed. This can’t be right. It just…it can’t be.

Dorian slowly comes to my side and pulls me against him. Then with his own shaky hand, he gently touches my belly, so softly and lovingly, as if he were holding a heart in his palm. I look up at him with tear-filled eyes to find that he’s smiling. Beaming with love and pride. And hope.

Then the unthinkable happens.

He laughs.

Dorian laughs so heartily that the entire room pauses to watch him. Tears spring at the crease of his jovial, blue eyes as he releases days, weeks, months, years of repressed emotion. I stare at him in awe, absorbing the feel of his hand against my womb and the pure joy pouring out of him. Feeling like everything will finally be ok.

A photographer asks to capture the rare moment, and we happily oblige. I wave our friends over, and Morgan, Lars and Alex squeeze in with us. Cocooning us with love.

I think back to that photo on my nightstand, channeling the chaotic bliss that my mother must’ve felt that day—the fear of the unknown coupled with the sheer joy at sharing her life with the people she loved. She knew what she was embarking on was crazy and dangerous, but she did it anyway. Because love was worth it. To her, I was worth it.

“Ok, now smile,” the photographer says.

And the five of us do just that. Because right now, we can be impossibly happy. We can find triumph in the destruction. We may make mistakes and stumble and fall. But we know that someone is always right there, lending a hand to pull us right back up. We may not know what lies on the other side of forever, but for now, that’s ok. We’re content with being here. Right here in this moment.

That’s the magic of life. Those times that make all the heartbreak seem bearable. They may be few and far between, but we know that morning always comes after night. Because where there is darkness, there will always be light.

My life was a beautiful tragedy.

But this isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.

I’M GOING TO tear the damn doors off.

I can’t stand this. Can’t stand to hear her pain. And while I may no longer feel it, it penetrates me to the core, infiltrating tissue and bone. The sound of her screams… I have to do something. I have to stop her suffering.

“Fuck this, I’m going in,” I growl, heading for the double doors. Alexander stops me before I can get within five feet of them, banding his thickly roped arms around me.

“Oh no, you’re not. You need to let them do their job, D.”

“Their job? They’re torturing her! Don’t you hear her distress?”

He nearly picks me up off my feet and carries me away, practically shoving me from where my beloved shrieks in agony. “Yeah? And bursting in there could severely endanger her life. You know you won’t be able to stand seeing her like that. So stop being an overly sensitive prick and have a seat until they call you.”

My fists tighten at my sides, and every muscle in my body tenses with blind fury. “I. Am. Not. A. Prick.”

Alexander shrugs before folding his frame into a chair, not even the slightest bit phased by my temper, which would render most men completely speechless with terror. Actually, Alex is one of the few people who isn’t terrified of me. Well…terrified is a strong word. Let’s go with intimidated. Not that that’s what I’m aiming for. But as the Dark king, I must maintain a level of respect and, yes, fear, so that others do not see me as docile. But being that Alexander is my father-in-law, as well as my best friend, throwing around the king card just doesn’t fly with him.

With a resigning sigh, I sit down next to him, shoving my head in my hands in frustration…and dread. It’s been hours. Hours of hearing Gabriella’s pain. Something must be wrong. Oh God…I can’t lose her. I can’t live without her.

“She’ll be alright,” Alex says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Morgan is in there holding her hand. And if anything were wrong, Lars would ensure those Light doctors did everything they could. Have faith, brother. Your queen will be ok.”

“But why does it seem so…painful?” I don’t miss the crack in my voice, and I don’t care. “I mean, the act of ripping a child from the womb is vicious as it is. But can’t they ease her suffering?”

“She’s too powerful, and her body is trying to regenerate itself just as they get it open—”

What? I cringe, a shudder rolling through my body.

“—and she’s burning right through the meds. But that young woman in there…is her mother’s child. She’s a fighter. She’ll make it through.”

I exhale and lean back into my seat, taking a bit of comfort in Alex’s words. Gabriella is a fighter. She fought for me. She fought for Niko. And now she’s in there fighting for our child.

There’s silence on the other side of those double doors. Silence that tells me that something has happened. I spring to my feet, prepared to rush through the doors when Morgan comes out, dressed in oversized, light blue scrubs. Her face is weary from sitting beside her best friend for hours, trying to lend her soothing words of encouragement. But right now, she seems beaten down.

I manifest right in front of her, causing her to yelp in surprise.

“Dammit, Dorian!” she shrieks, smacking my arm.

“Is there any word? How is she? What’s wrong?” When Morgan doesn’t answer right away, I grasp her slim shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard. I’m anxious, but I know Lars would have my head if I accidently harmed her—king or not.

“She’s fine,” Morgan smiles. “Go on in and see her. Now understand that I didn’t have time to fix her hair or makeup, so don’t be mad at me—”

I’m already gone.

I enter the hospital delivery room just in time to hear my newborn baby cry for the very first time. Gabriella smiles, her sweat-slickened face more radiant than ever, as she takes the squirming bundle in her arms. I take a step forward on shaky knees, and finally, I gaze upon true, immaculate beauty—so rare and wondrous that my chest contracts and expands with the overflow of emotion. I breathe as it moves through me, spurning an endless stream of joy in my veins.

In that moment, something inside me shifts, filling that last piece of hollowness that ached in disrepair. And I feel my dark heart fracture into two, yet it beats more wildly—more vitally—than ever before.

I may have lived lifetime upon lifetime, but I never knew what it meant to be alive until right this very second. For now, my newly rendered heart beats for them.

End.

We've finally made it.

The End.

And while I'm relieved/overjoyed/proud of bringing this series to a close, it's so hard to say goodbye to the story that took me from Syreeta Jennings: stay at home mom & wife, to S.L. Jennings: Author.

That is just CRAZY to me. Absolutely insane.

I'm doing what I love. And I realize that I would not even be in this position had it not been for the amazing people around me who have kept me grounded, focused and motivated every step of the way.

To my readers . . . you guys. YOU GUYS. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever expect to have such awesome readers to support me & these characters. You all have breathed life into Dorian and Gabs. Whether you 1-clicked the ebooks or paperbacks, I am just so honored that you have chosen their story. I can't tell you how great it feels to see your enthusiasm through comments, messages, tweets, etc. I LOVE YOU GUYS. Seriously. Could not have made it this far without you!

To my street team & fan groups: Jonesin' for Jennings, SL's Smart Asses & Dorian's Little Ruined Ones . . . big hugs and sloppy kisses to all of you!!! You guys are the shiznit! Pimpin' ain't easy, but you sure know how to make it look good!

There are some amazing bloggers out there who have pimped THE HELL out of the Dark Light Series. I know I won't be able to name them all (and I truly do apologize) but HUGE THANKS to every blog that has supported me since day one.

(in no particular order)

The Rock Stars of Romance

The Scarlet Siren

Smut Book Club

Sassy Savvy Fabulous Book Blog

Schmexy Girl Book Blog

Shhh . . . Mom's Reading

Her Juicy Reads

Kindle Crack Reviews

True Story Book Blog

The Book Blog

We Like It Big Book Blog

Hook Me Up Book Blog

Sassy Divas Book Blog

Three Chicks and Their Books

Ana's Attic Book Blog

Black Heart Reviews

Panty Dropping Book Blog

THESUBCLUBBooks

Chicks Controlled by Books

Becca the Bibliophile

The Book List Reviews

After Dark Book Lovers

Red Cheeks Reads

The To Be Read List

End of Story, Next Book Blog

Booked Every Night Blog

Natasha is a Book Junkie

Up All Night Book Blog

TotallyBooked

Maryse's Book Blog

Romance Schmomance

Erotica Book Club

Paranormal Book Club

Angie's Dreamy Reads

Kristi's Book Cellar

Holly's Hot Reads

NWA Gossip Girl

Blushing Babes Book Blog

Literati Literature Lovers

Kris & Vik Book Therapy Café

Book Loving Pixies

Christian Grey Fan Page

My Secret Romance

Wolfel's World of Books

Like I said, I truly do not mean to leave anyone out! And if I did, please chalk it up to my head and not my heart.

I definitely have to thank the ladies that ensured that Light Shadows was right and tight . . . my beta team. Lisa Chamberlain, Maureen Sytsma, Yaya Cintron, Alicia Wilson and Sharon Goodman. You ladies are truly rock stars & I am so grateful to have worked with each one of you. We did it!

Extra special thanks to my ace, my right hand, my partner in crime . . . Mo. I swear, I owe you, woman! I can't even put into words how much you've done for me, but know that I am thankful from the bottom of my heart. I could not have done it without you!

Huge thanks to Sassy Savvy PR & Marketing for all their hard work & dedication. Sharon & Melissa . . . it's been a dream working with you! Seriously, you've gone above and beyond for me, and I could not ask for more. Thank you for your help & your friendship.

To my sisters in the trenches: Rebecca Shea, Claire Contreras, Emmy Montes, Gail McHugh, Mia Asher, Madeline Sheehan, Karina Halle, AL Jackson, RK Lilley, Raine Miller, Nicole Jacquelyn, Cindy Brown, Barbie Bohrman, Kendall Grey, Michelle Valentine, Lynetta Halat, LB Simmons, Abbi Glines, Christine Zolendz, Tillie Cole, Trudy Stiles, Roxy Sloane, Katie Ashley, Kyla Linde, Jennifer Berg, Carey Heywood . . . You all inspire me daily. Thank you for your continued love and support. There is truly something amazing to be said about women that uplift and encourage other women. I am glad to have met each and every one of you!

Much love to my editor, Tracey Buckalew, who knows my brain and my words like no one else. I love you, woman! Thank you x1000!

To Kara Hildebrand, who signed on at the last minute to help a sista out . . . thank you!!!

Big thanks to Champagne Formatting, who totally rocked it out, even with all my indecisiveness & procrastinating! Great job!

Last but not least, I must thank my family. It's not easy having a wife and mother for a writer. There are lots of fast food and/or fend-for-yourself nights. Mountains of dirty laundry and less than sparkly living rooms. And times where you may have felt that I was there . . . but not quite there. To my husband and children, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to be who I was meant to be. Thank you for loving me despite my laundry list of domestic faults. Everything I do, and have done, is for you. I love you more than you could ever know.

And thank YOU. The person reading these words right now. I think you're pretty awesome. :)

-S

Most known for her starring role in a popular sitcom as a child, S.L. Jennings went on to earn her law degree from Harvard at the young age of 16. While studying for the bar exam and recording her debut hit album, she also won the Nobel Prize for her groundbreaking invention of calorie-free wine. When she isn't conquering the seas in her yacht or flying her Gulfstream, she likes to spin elaborate webs of lies and has even documented a few of these said falsehoods.

Some of S.L.'s devious lies:

TAINT

FEAR OF FALLING

THE DARK LIGHT SERIES

- Dark Light
- The Dark Prince
- Nikolai (a Dark Light novella)
- Light Shadows

Meet the Liar:

www.sljennings.com
www.facebook.com/authorsljennings

Twitter: @MrsSLJ