The Lost Souls (The Holy Trinity #2.5)(52)
His face softens and his tense shoulders relax. Only then do I realize that the energetic buzz in our section has ceased and all eyes and ears are on our mystery guest, though he doesn’t seem to notice. He is maddeningly confident and impassive, as if no one else exists. And at this moment, no one does. His mere presence consumes the small space and I swear the air has become unusually dense upon his arrival. He literally takes my breath away.
“I am Dorian,” he states smoothly to no one in particular. Mmmm, Dorian. Even his name melts on the tongue like butter.
“Well, Dorian, please sit with us. Would you like some champagne?” Morgan sputters hastily, trying to regain her infamous Man-eater stance. She pours him a glass without waiting for a reply and holds it up to him. He carefully takes the glass from her and gracefully sits in the space between the two of us.
With Dorian in such close proximity, I am almost positive my heart will beat out of my chest and land in a goopy mess on the dance floor. I refuse to look directly at him for fear that I may freeze under those intense eyes, that I’ve now realized are ice blue. It is the lightest blue I have ever seen. I gulp down my remaining bubbly and smile meekly at him.
“So Dorian, what brings you out tonight? Special occasion?” Morgan questions. Dorian doesn’t answer. He just continues to gaze at me intensely, so she continues. “Hey, it’s actually Gabs’ birthday!” My eyes widen as I literally try to spurt fire from them at her. In an instant, Dorian’s eyes darken, a storm brewing behind the shroud of azure.
“Is that right?” he replies dryly with a hint of boredom. What the hell is his problem?
“Yeah, uh, she just turned 20,” Morgan blurts out when I don’t take the bait and offer any information.
Dorian shifts his body towards mine. He is so bold and sure of himself, it’s weirdly turning me on, and I hate it! I breathe in his intoxicating scent, praying the rise and fall of my chest don’t betray me. His unyielding gaze completely unnerves me yet I can’t tear my eyes from him. I know I should; everything about him is screaming sex and danger. The combination of the two mixed with my weakness for bad boys could very well be my kryptonite.
“Well, Happy Birthday, Gabriella,” he breathes.
Dorian brazenly takes my hand in his and strokes it gently, leaving a trail of icy tingles where his long fingers meet my skin, causing an involuntary gasp to fall from my wanting lips. He then brings it up to his face and lets his dazzling blue eyes close as he inhales the inside of my palm deeply. When they reopen, his pupils dilate and flash momentarily, his eyes becoming so light that they appear almost white for a split second. What the . . . ? He then lets his full lips brush the back of it, again causing the warmth between my thighs to quiver. Then in one swift movement, he’s on his feet again.
His touch is . . . odd, to say the least. Beguiling. The intense tingling sensation almost stings my hand but it’s strangely pleasurable. I’m panting, unable to form an intelligible response, and realize that I haven’t said anything to him at all! He bows his head slightly and then retreats to the exit, disappearing from my sight, leaving me a panting, blubbering mess.
“What the hell was that about?” Jared asks suddenly sitting next to me. I didn’t even notice the movement. “Mr. Stanger Danger looked like a serious mental case. One of your friends, I assume, Morgan?” he jibes.
“No, but I damn sure wouldn’t mind if he was! Damn! He was sexy as hell!” she shrieks. “He only had eyes for Gabs here though,” she winks at me.
“Well, dude looks like an ultimate creeper. I get a bad feeling about him. Hey, maybe he’s the Ice pick Murderer! Gabs, you better watch out!” Jared jokes, though I don’t return his playfulness.
I try to enjoy the rest of my birthday celebration though my heart is just not in it. I can’t stop thinking about . . . him. Dorian. I’ve only just met him yet he has already claimed space in my slightly inebriated mind. The way he touched me was unlike anything I have ever experienced. And though the gesture was modest, chaste even, I feel as if he has exposed me–stripped me bare and naked with just a simple touch. I know I should be disturbed by my muddled feelings but I am anything but. I’m fascinated; downright intrigued.
After calling it a night and I am finally in the confines of my messy bedroom, I have to convince myself that I didn’t just imagine it all. I touch my hand to my face; it just barely still tingles and I savor it, reminding myself that I was face to face with the most beautiful creature alive. I giggle dizzily and flop back onto my full size bed, landing on a box that crushes under my weight. How did I not see this? It isn’t wrapped but has just a simple red ribbon tied around it. Tucked under the ribbon, is a handwritten note from my mom, Donna. I force myself to sober up to read it.
Gabi,
Now that you are old enough to understand, we feel you should have this. Read it. Form your own opinions and do what you think is right. We understand that you may have questions and your father and I will do everything we can to answer them. We know that you can handle anything; you are so strong and resilient. We sincerely hope that you don’t hate us for keeping this from you all these years but you have to understand . . . this was a very time sensitive matter. It’s difficult for us to explain to you so please, just read before you make any hasty decisions and I hope you can forgive us for our concealment.
We will love you always, no matter what you decide.