Ch
apter 23
Jennifer woke with a start in a strange bed. Then she remembered the new apartment. She checked her cell phone for the time. It was 1:00 am. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the couch. He must’ve carried her to bed. She looked down. Her mother’s afghan had been lovingly placed over her.
She saw him asleep on the other side of the bed. His bottom half was covered, his chest bare, his left arm lightly draped over her waist.
She gazed at him, never having seen him asleep before. His face was peaceful and still he looked totally masculine and utterly sexy. His long dark lashes created shadows under his eyes, his mouth was slightly parted. She ran her fingers lightly across his face, his upper arms and chest, not wanting to wake him.
Gingerly, she lifted the covers and peeked down at
the lower half of his body. She smiled, even as she felt tears come to her eyes. He still had his pants on. He’d removed his belt and the top button was undone, but he hadn’t taken them off. She knew he hadn’t done so out of respect for her. Her heart pounded, not with passion or her never ending lust for him, but with pure love. If she thought she loved him before, she
knew
she loved him now.
“Can I help you find something
Jennifer?” He asked softly.
He’d startled her. She dropped the covers and looked at him. His eyes were alert, as if he hadn’t been sleeping at all. He must’ve been asleep for a very short time before she awoke.
She lay sideways, facing him and looked deep into his eyes.
“You never cease to amaze me
, Dorian Taylor.”
“Oh?”
“You’re sweet. Admit it.”
“Sweet? That’s not the way I’d describe myself.” He frowned. “Well . . . except for one part of my anatomy.”
His mouth turned up at one corner in that crooked and utterly devastating smile of his. He pulled her to him.
She laid her head on his chest and sighed. “Tell me about your life Dorian.”
“What would you like to know?”
“What was your childhood like?”
“It was relatively normal, I guess. I grew up in the English countryside and spent a lot of time hunting and fishing. I also read a lot and still do. Reading was my mother’s passion and it became mine as well.”
“I like to read too,” she said. “I have to tell you, I would’ve never guessed you were raised in the country, like me. You’re so sophisticated. I pegged you for a city boy through and through. I can’t even imagine you being an outdoor type.”
“Indeed,” he raised his brows. “Well I am, but that was a long time ago.”
“A long time ago? How long could it be? You’re only 24.”
He stopped and stared at her, an odd look in his eyes. He didn’t respond to the remark.
He continued. “My mother, Genevieve, was a kind, loving and very beautiful woman. She came from a
respectable, French family. When they married, my family was aristocrats. Over time, the money was gone and all we had left was our name. She was not a happy woman.
As for my father, I swore I’d never be like him. I didn’t like the way he treated her and understood her despair completely. He drank a lot and was a womanizer.
When she became ill, he left her alone more often than not. He visited prostitutes constantly while she lay dying. He brought me with him once, wanted me to have sex with one of those women. I refused. I was utterly devastated then. Not only was he betraying my mother, he was trying to pull me into his sordid world. I tried to take care of her. But a son is no substitute for a loving husband. As I’ve told you, I wasn’t there when she died. It haunts me to this very day.”
“I’m so sorry. It sounds as if you carried a heavy burden for someone so young Dorian. What happened to your father?”
He hesitated, as if it was too painful to talk about. “He was attacked by a pack of wolves. We were hungry then and hunting for food. He was injured and the wolves, they were just as hungry as we were. They caught the scent of blood and ripped him apart in minutes.”
“How awful! That’s far from a relatively normal childhood.”
“I suppose it was,” he said quietly.
“How did you escape from the wolves?” She was curious. There wasn’t a single mark, scar or blemish anywhere on his body.
“Malachi was in the woods that day. He saved my life. We’ve been together ever since, first as friends, later as business partners.”
“And together you created Taylor and Van Ness and e.Vampire.com? Why e.Vampire? You must’ve been rich with the success of the software company.”
“I had a knack right from the start with computers and software and the like. Malachi provided the capital for the start-up but I, along with Ian and others handle the business. We do quite well. I design most of the software myself with the help of the engineers. I know I could leave a lot of it to them, but as you know, I’m a control freak.”
“So, was e.Vampire.com his idea or yours?”
His looked her directly in the eye. “I created e.Vampire.com.”
“Why?”
He sighed. “Because I was lonely. I thought it might be a way to meet someone special.”
“Why the BDSM element?”
“It was all I knew. It’s as simple as that.”
“But you like that kind of sex, you admitted it, Dorian.”
“That’s true to a point. I won’t lie nor will I blame Malachi for what I’ve done. However, the really bad things I’ve done sexually in the past were
learned
behaviors. I didn’t have any fantasies of being tied up or raped in my youth. I have no reason, psychological or otherwise that would make BDSM my predominant sexual style. I liked what you and I did together in that room. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you did too.”
She was stunned for a moment. He was right. She really had liked it. What did that make her?
“It’s okay to admit it Jennifer. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with what we did or me telling you I want to fuck you and you telling me what you want.”
“I did like it. I love everything we do together.” She felt the blush creeping into her cheeks. Cautiously, she asked. “Have you ever seriously injured anyone during sex?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes. I do.”
“But you know I wouldn’t hurt you for anything in the world. Why does it matter now?” It was obvious that he didn’t want to answer her.
“It matters to me. Not because I think you’ll harm me. I trust you. I want you to feel you can tell me the truth, no matter how bad it may be. I want
you
to trust
me
.”
“Yes, I have. But . . . I took care of them.”
“You took care of them? What does that mean?”
He hesitated. His face looked pained but he answered her. “It’s called aftercare. When you engage in heavy BDSM it can get downright dangerous. Afterwards, I gave them medication, salves for their wounds or drove them to the emergency room if needed. I never went in and the women never told the medical professionals what happened. I’m sure they’ve seen such injuries before.”
She didn’t know what to say. He had secrets she couldn’t even begin to fathom. She literally stared at him; sure he could see the shock and disgust on her face.
And yet, there was one question she had to ask; dreaded asking, because if the answer was what she feared it might be, she’d never be able to look him in the eye ever again.
“Have you ever killed anyone Dorian?” she asked in a breath of a whisper.
His eyes never wavered from hers. “No.”
She exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath, awaiting his answer.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that and I’m glad you thought enough of the others to take care of them. I hate men
that abuse women, even though I’m a little jealous that you’ve been with so many others before me.”
“There’s no need for you to feel that way. I felt nothing for any of them. And just because the sex was consensual, doesn’t mean
I wouldn’t make sure they were taken care of. That would be dishonorable. Jennifer,
no
woman has ever affected me the way you do. But, I do understand how you feel. Just the thought of another man touching you, or you looking at him the way you look at me, is enough to drive me mad.”
“Can I ask you another question?” She asked cautiously.
“I’m starting to feel like I’m getting the third degree.” He groaned. “I’ll subject myself to one more question.”
“What is your deepest darkest fear?”
He grew very quiet and serious and she detected the sadness in his voice. “I’m afraid of loneliness. And I don’t mean being alone. I’m surrounded by people all the time. I mean living a life not shared, without any one who really knows me, or without me knowing anyone else to the very depths of their soul. And now you know.” He sighed and took a deep breath. “Tell me, what are you most afraid of?”
“Death.”
“Most people are,” he said as if measuring his words. He had a curious, unreadable look on his face.
“I think I’m even more afraid of getting ill and suffering like my mother did than death itself. It’s like being trapped and death is the only way out. I’m petrified of it. Aren’t you afraid to die?”
“I warned you I’d only answer one more question and I did.” He ran his fingers through his hair, kissed her, got out of bed and threw his shirt on.
She looked at him longingly. Was he leaving now?
God, I don’t want to be alone tonight
.
“No. I wouldn’t leave you tonight, not until just before dawn. I’ve a number of overseas calls to make. I make those calls around dawn due to the time difference.
How in the world had he known what I was thinking?
It was then that she realized how hard he was trying to have a deep, meaningful relationship with her. He was becoming attuned to her needs and feelings.
“I have something more to show you. Put some clothes on and let’s go.”
He held her hand. They walked through the maze of boxes, all neatly packed and marked. Each box displayed the name
Pack and Go
movers. He must’ve hired professionals to do all this, which meant he hadn’t gone through her personal things. She found that endearing. He’d allowed her to maintain her privacy by letting strangers do it.
They went down the elevator to the bottom floor. He stopped in front of the Mercedes she’d noticed earlier.
“Close your eyes and open your hand.” He said in his usual “I’m in charge” way.
She did as she was told.
“Now, open them.”
There was a set of car keys with a Mercedes emblem on the key chain. She was dumbstruck. Her eyes drifted over to the silver-metallic car sitting in slot number 7.
“Isn’t that your car?” she asked, feeling uneasy.
“It was. Now it’s yours.”
She peered down at those keys and couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, but she sure as hell felt them drilling into her. This was too much. And after all he’d told her about himself, she felt a little apprehensive.
He didn’t hurt you, he protected you
. He’s awakened your sexuality and given you pleasure like no other man ever has. And he respected your feelings tonight. You asked for the truth and he told you, disclosing the sordid details about the women he’d hurt. He bared himself to you, which couldn’t have been easy for him.
She shook her head. “I can’t take this car. It’s too much. I already feel guilty about the apartment. I didn’t earn these things.” She appeared on the verge of tears again.
“Look at me Jennifer.”
She struggled to do as he asked and couldn’t. He held her face gently in his hands. She was instantly drawn into those eyes.
The light caught them just right and they glittered like blue diamonds. How could she resist him? She couldn’t.
“Listen to me. Miami is not Maine. The apartment building has high tech security, the best money can buy and the car is very well built.
I
need you to have these things. Tell me you’ll take it if only for me.”
She nodded. They got in the car and he showed her how everything worked.
Finally, after he’d gotten her to agree to read the vehicle manual before driving it, they went back upstairs. She was bone weary by then, overwhelmed by all that had happened in one night.
She lay down in bed. He slid in beside her, slipped an arm under her and wrapped the other around her, holding her loosely. She listened to his heartbeat, felt his chest move up and down with each breath, lulling her to sleep.
As she tumbled over into the world of sleep, she heard Ms. Prudinsky’s voice sounding solemn and sad.
“He truly owns you now. Doesn’t he?”