HEXED - CHAPTER FIVE
If you've been following along on my Facebook page, then you know I'm posting the first five chapters of Hexed, one chapter ever Tuesday. Hexed is being sent for editing at the end of this week, scheduled to release at the end of September!! If you missed the first three chapters of Hexed, you can find them here:Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
CHAPTER FIVE - GWEN I stood in a large open room, the floor hard tile beneath my feet. A cavernous stone fireplace took up one wall, its mouth large enough for someone to walk through. Flames licked against the brick, hissing and popping as it illuminated the space in warmth. Something tickled my feet and when I looked down; I found thin wisps of fog twining around my ankles like playful fingers. The soft rasp of a man’s chuckle brought my attention back to the room. A beautiful man stood near the fireplace, his hair as black as coal. Little strands fell across his azure eyes. Though not menacing, I noticed how intense those eyes were. They watched me knowingly, the way only a man who has experienced a woman could. His gaze cemented me to the floor, entrapping me in his seductive allure. Who was he and why did he seem so familiar?
In the time it took me to blink, the man was behind me. His fingers curled around my shoulders, cool and strong. He drew my hair to the side to reveal my bare neck, trailing his nose up the length as he inhaled me. My eyelids fell closed slow and heavy as I tilted my head in the opposite direction to give him all the access he needed. The man was an unmovable barrier at my back, supporting my weight as I sagged against him.
When his lips made contact with my throat, a shudder skipped its way through my body. Energy unlike anything I’d ever felt poked and prodded against every inch of exposed skin. A need stronger than I thought possible, overpowered all rational thought until I was near panting for this beautiful stranger. His large hand came around my waist and slid across my stomach. He squeezed his fingers, bunching the material of my nightgown in his tight grip, and began pulling upward. Inch by inch, the nightgown rose, exposing my bare legs, while the man kissed a path down my neck and across my collarbone. The hardness of his erection pressed into my behind, promising me pleasure.
“My Gwen,” he breathed against my skin while his hand slipped under my panties. A shuddering breath escaped my lips as he moved his fingers slowly down between my legs. My breath froze in my lungs as I waited for his touch to make contact with my sex.
“Gwen,” another man’s voice said, bringing me out of the seductive haze of the stranger. I opened my eyes slowly and the stranger was gone. Dorian stood ten feet in front of me dressed in only jeans. My eyes traced the cut of his muscles, highlighted and shadowed by the glow of the fire. Where the stranger was beautiful, Dorian was edgy. The promise of danger clung to him, provoking something inside of me.
When he reached me, Dorian wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me into his arms without a word. My legs wrapped around his hard waist and, before I could make sense of what was happening, Dorian was kissing me. He claimed my mouth as though it was his to claim, not wasting time with sensual seductions. When his tongue penetrated the seal of my lips, I opened my mouth and welcomed him inside. The first stroke of his tongue against mine sent a jolt sizzling between my legs. My behind sat in Dorian’s strong hands, his fingers squeezing the plump flesh as he moved me against his body. The ripples of his stomach caused the sweetest friction between my legs.
“He can’t have you, Gwen,” he breathed against my lips.
“Who?” I whispered.
A smirk tugged one side of his mouth up, cocky and confident.
I only realized I’d been dreaming when my eyes opened and the ceiling of my bedroom greeted me. Running a hand over my face, I sat up and took in the darkened space. I was still wearing the clothes from the day before, having collapsed onto the mattress as soon as Dorian showed me to my room. The alarm clock beside the bed said that it was just after five in the morning. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep, but I was too wound up from the dream to try for a few more z’s.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stared out of the small window beside the dresser. Taking a few minutes, I thought about my life in hopes of remembering something. When only blankness swirled through my brain, I put my head in my hands and grumbled into my palms. Though it had only been a day since I lost my memory, it felt a lot longer. Nothing made sense to me now and that only aggravated me.
The sound of a door shutting brought me out of my thoughts. Standing, I padded toward my door and opened it just enough that I could see into the hall. There was a room across from me and a sliver of light spilled from beneath the door. Was that Dorian’s room? As soon as the thought crossed my mind I knew it wasn’t; I’d seen a man’s duffel bag sitting on my bedroom floor, which meant Dorian stayed in my room. The idea of having him in my bed caused a mixture of excitement and fear. I still wasn’t sure what to think about that man, or what that said about me by being with him. How serious could Dorian and I be though if he didn’t even know what was going on between us? Something about that made me feel a little better. Maybe he’d just been a fling, a bad judgment on a lonely night. He had been helpful in his own way, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. He put me on edge, an instinctual feeling that warned me about him.
Opening the door further, I tiptoed down the hall and toward the kitchen. I’d been looking toward the living room, afraid I may wake Dorian. However, when my gaze swept toward the kitchen, I jerked at seeing him sitting at the table. My hand flew to my chest as my heart jumpstarted. He sat with his elbows propped up and hands clasped with his head resting atop his knuckles. At my arrival, he lifted his head and my jaw dropped. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. Moving closer, I stared at his bizarre eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, leaning back against the chair. I was aware he asked a question but my focus was on the gray clouds swirling through his sockets. There was no pupil, just fogginess. Realizing I was making the ‘what the hell face’, I dropped my gaze.
“What?” I asked, swiveling my head to search for the coffeepot.
“I’m Death, Gwen,” Dorian replied.
I stopped my search for coffee. “What?”
He inhaled a deep breath through his nose and leaned onto the table again. Now that his eyes were on the tabletop, I noticed the cut of his arms. The cotton on his t-shirt fit snuggly around his biceps, which only made me think of that scandalous dream. Why couldn’t I have dreamt about my life, something to help me remember? More than that, why did I have to dream about two men? Wasn’t one enough for my sleeping brain?
“That’s why my eyes are the way they are,” Dorian explained. “I am the angel of Death.”
I stilled in the middle of the kitchen, shocked at the news. I was involved with the angel of Death?
“I sense you have questions,” Dorian said. I just now noticed how tired his voice sounded and I wondered if he had slept at all. Did angels sleep?
“Do you have wings?” As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I cringed. Do you have wings? Seriously?
Dorian chuckled. “In a sense, yes. And no, I do not carry a scythe or wear a black robe.” He half turned to look at me, a smirk on his face. “Just in case you were wondering.”
Another thought occurred to me, and just like before, I couldn’t stop it from leaving my lips. “But you and I…we…I slept with a…is that…never mind.” Racing over to the coffeepot, I got to work at making a fresh pot and tried to ignore Dorian’s gaze at my back. When God created humans, he should have made it to where our brains needed three cups of coffee before we could talk. I was convinced that after my veins were laced with caffeine, I could carry on an articulate conversation.
“I’m not the harp playing, halo wearing, white wings kind of angel, cupcake.” Dorian stood and walked over to where I stood. Leaning his hip against the counter, he stood sideways so that he was staring down at me.
“Why are you so flustered this morning?” Dorian asked. “Is it because you don’t remember me and knowing we were intimate embarrasses you?” He tilted his head to the side. The clouds in his eyes crawled slowly across his sockets and I found myself lost in their abyss.
“Gwen?”
Blinking, I focused on Dorian’s face again. “Yeah, it’s a little awkward, but it’s more than that. I’m trying to figure out who I was and knowing I was with someone like you…” I looked down. “Was it because I also deal with the dead? Are supernatural’s attracted to their own kind?” When I looked up, Dorian’s features had hardened. His lips were now just a straight line across his mouth and his eyebrows pulled together, forming a wrinkle between his eyes.
“Someone like me?”
“I just mean,” I started and then paused, trying to think of what I did mean. “I’m trying to figure out what attracted me to you, I guess. When someone gets involved with someone else, it says a lot about his or her character.” I paused to think. “At least, I think it does. Like say you’re a horrible person. Wouldn’t that mean that I am also horrible?”
Dorian’s features softened the slightest bit, though I didn’t know why; everything I said sounded like an insult. It’s the lack of caffeine, I told myself.
“I had a dream,” I continued.
“A dream?” Dorian asked.
I nodded. “That’s why I’m awake. I couldn’t fall back asleep.”
“What kind of dream?”
Though embarrassing, I knew I should tell him. “There was a dark haired man, very good looking with blue eyes. He and I, well, we sorta made out. He called me ‘my Gwen’.” Dorian frowned and looked away. Something about me dreaming about an imaginary man upset him, which only made me wonder if we were more serious than Dorian let on.
“Do I know anyone fitting the description of the man?”
Dorian stared down at me for a long time in silence as though debating whether he should tell me the truth or not. His hesitance confirmed that I did know the other man in my dream. Since I had lost my memories, I kind of thought I knew him. I hadn’t seen anyone that looked like that while I was running around town. One random piece of information I remembered was learning that our brains could not conjure up random faces in our dreams. Those featured in our sleeping worlds could be random people we see throughout the day and just not remember. However, if I saw someone resembling the man from my dream, I would have taken notice. He was just that beautiful.
“Who is he, Dorian?”
“Sounds like the vampire,” Dorian remarked with distaste. “He could be pulling you into his dreams through your bond.”
“Vampire? Bonded?” While Micah had informed me that monsters existed, I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. There were really vampires, and I was bonded to one. Why?
“Aiden,” Dorian said. “Your ex. He bonded with you a couple weeks ago.”
I turned my back toward the cabinets and leaned my behind against the counter. Crossing my arms, I stared at the yellowing linoleum floor.
“What does being bonded mean? Is it…dangerous?”
“For him,” Dorian bit out and then looked over at me. “Yes, it can be dangerous but—as much as I hate to admit it—I don’t think Aiden would harm you. It just means you’re always aware of each other. Some of the more talented vampires can pull you into their dreams.”
“I don’t think he pulled me into his dream,” I said.
“Why’s that?”
Spinning back around, I filled the filter with grounds and the tank with water, pushing the start button. Dorian reached out to me and brushed my curtain of dark hair over my shoulder so he could see my face.
“You were there,” I admitted. “You stopped it—us—from going any further. The other man disappeared.” I looked back at the coffeepot. “Can I pull people into my dreams, or was it just a dream?”
“You and Aiden were together and then I showed up?” Dorian mumbled as though he was talking to himself rather than me. I risked a glance at him and found him…smiling.
“What?”
“There are two possible scenarios, both of which are good,” Dorian said. “Aiden either conjured a dream for the two of you and your imagination created me within it, breaking his hold over your sleeping mind, or your memories are resurfacing.”
I perked up at that. “You really think my memories could be coming back?” I’d worry about being bonded to a vampire later. At the moment, the prospect of regaining my mind took higher priority.
“Maybe Micah was right and all you needed was some sleep for the spell to wear off,” Dorian said.
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Yeah, but I don’t remember anything.” I tried to conjure any semblance of memories and hit the same static wall I had before. My hope deflated with the knowledge that nothing had changed.
“Hey,” Dorian said soothingly, “all of this will be fixed today. If Micah cannot get the woman to reverse the spell, I will.” Something about the way he said that caused me to look up at him with concern.
“How?”
“I think it’s best you don’t know,” Dorian responded, turning away from me. “You already don’t trust me.”
“My mind has been wiped,” I retorted. “I don’t trust anybody.” Dorian and I watched each other for a few long moments.
“I’m one of the few people you can trust, Gwen. The things I’ve done for you…”
The coffeepot beeped, interrupting the tension between Dorian and me. While I really wanted a cup of liquid caffeine, I needed to know what Dorian meant.
“What have you done?”
Dorian gave me a sad smile, his lips thinned but curled at the edges. As we stared at one another, that something in my gut tightened again. What the hell was that?
“What I had to,” Dorian finally said. Before I could ask him any more questions, he grabbed his leather jacket off the coat rack and left the apartment.
CHAPTER FIVE - GWEN I stood in a large open room, the floor hard tile beneath my feet. A cavernous stone fireplace took up one wall, its mouth large enough for someone to walk through. Flames licked against the brick, hissing and popping as it illuminated the space in warmth. Something tickled my feet and when I looked down; I found thin wisps of fog twining around my ankles like playful fingers. The soft rasp of a man’s chuckle brought my attention back to the room. A beautiful man stood near the fireplace, his hair as black as coal. Little strands fell across his azure eyes. Though not menacing, I noticed how intense those eyes were. They watched me knowingly, the way only a man who has experienced a woman could. His gaze cemented me to the floor, entrapping me in his seductive allure. Who was he and why did he seem so familiar?
In the time it took me to blink, the man was behind me. His fingers curled around my shoulders, cool and strong. He drew my hair to the side to reveal my bare neck, trailing his nose up the length as he inhaled me. My eyelids fell closed slow and heavy as I tilted my head in the opposite direction to give him all the access he needed. The man was an unmovable barrier at my back, supporting my weight as I sagged against him.
When his lips made contact with my throat, a shudder skipped its way through my body. Energy unlike anything I’d ever felt poked and prodded against every inch of exposed skin. A need stronger than I thought possible, overpowered all rational thought until I was near panting for this beautiful stranger. His large hand came around my waist and slid across my stomach. He squeezed his fingers, bunching the material of my nightgown in his tight grip, and began pulling upward. Inch by inch, the nightgown rose, exposing my bare legs, while the man kissed a path down my neck and across my collarbone. The hardness of his erection pressed into my behind, promising me pleasure.
“My Gwen,” he breathed against my skin while his hand slipped under my panties. A shuddering breath escaped my lips as he moved his fingers slowly down between my legs. My breath froze in my lungs as I waited for his touch to make contact with my sex.
“Gwen,” another man’s voice said, bringing me out of the seductive haze of the stranger. I opened my eyes slowly and the stranger was gone. Dorian stood ten feet in front of me dressed in only jeans. My eyes traced the cut of his muscles, highlighted and shadowed by the glow of the fire. Where the stranger was beautiful, Dorian was edgy. The promise of danger clung to him, provoking something inside of me.
When he reached me, Dorian wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me into his arms without a word. My legs wrapped around his hard waist and, before I could make sense of what was happening, Dorian was kissing me. He claimed my mouth as though it was his to claim, not wasting time with sensual seductions. When his tongue penetrated the seal of my lips, I opened my mouth and welcomed him inside. The first stroke of his tongue against mine sent a jolt sizzling between my legs. My behind sat in Dorian’s strong hands, his fingers squeezing the plump flesh as he moved me against his body. The ripples of his stomach caused the sweetest friction between my legs.
“He can’t have you, Gwen,” he breathed against my lips.
“Who?” I whispered.
A smirk tugged one side of his mouth up, cocky and confident.
I only realized I’d been dreaming when my eyes opened and the ceiling of my bedroom greeted me. Running a hand over my face, I sat up and took in the darkened space. I was still wearing the clothes from the day before, having collapsed onto the mattress as soon as Dorian showed me to my room. The alarm clock beside the bed said that it was just after five in the morning. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep, but I was too wound up from the dream to try for a few more z’s.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stared out of the small window beside the dresser. Taking a few minutes, I thought about my life in hopes of remembering something. When only blankness swirled through my brain, I put my head in my hands and grumbled into my palms. Though it had only been a day since I lost my memory, it felt a lot longer. Nothing made sense to me now and that only aggravated me.
The sound of a door shutting brought me out of my thoughts. Standing, I padded toward my door and opened it just enough that I could see into the hall. There was a room across from me and a sliver of light spilled from beneath the door. Was that Dorian’s room? As soon as the thought crossed my mind I knew it wasn’t; I’d seen a man’s duffel bag sitting on my bedroom floor, which meant Dorian stayed in my room. The idea of having him in my bed caused a mixture of excitement and fear. I still wasn’t sure what to think about that man, or what that said about me by being with him. How serious could Dorian and I be though if he didn’t even know what was going on between us? Something about that made me feel a little better. Maybe he’d just been a fling, a bad judgment on a lonely night. He had been helpful in his own way, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. He put me on edge, an instinctual feeling that warned me about him.
Opening the door further, I tiptoed down the hall and toward the kitchen. I’d been looking toward the living room, afraid I may wake Dorian. However, when my gaze swept toward the kitchen, I jerked at seeing him sitting at the table. My hand flew to my chest as my heart jumpstarted. He sat with his elbows propped up and hands clasped with his head resting atop his knuckles. At my arrival, he lifted his head and my jaw dropped. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. Moving closer, I stared at his bizarre eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, leaning back against the chair. I was aware he asked a question but my focus was on the gray clouds swirling through his sockets. There was no pupil, just fogginess. Realizing I was making the ‘what the hell face’, I dropped my gaze.
“What?” I asked, swiveling my head to search for the coffeepot.
“I’m Death, Gwen,” Dorian replied.
I stopped my search for coffee. “What?”
He inhaled a deep breath through his nose and leaned onto the table again. Now that his eyes were on the tabletop, I noticed the cut of his arms. The cotton on his t-shirt fit snuggly around his biceps, which only made me think of that scandalous dream. Why couldn’t I have dreamt about my life, something to help me remember? More than that, why did I have to dream about two men? Wasn’t one enough for my sleeping brain?
“That’s why my eyes are the way they are,” Dorian explained. “I am the angel of Death.”
I stilled in the middle of the kitchen, shocked at the news. I was involved with the angel of Death?
“I sense you have questions,” Dorian said. I just now noticed how tired his voice sounded and I wondered if he had slept at all. Did angels sleep?
“Do you have wings?” As soon as the question was out of my mouth, I cringed. Do you have wings? Seriously?
Dorian chuckled. “In a sense, yes. And no, I do not carry a scythe or wear a black robe.” He half turned to look at me, a smirk on his face. “Just in case you were wondering.”
Another thought occurred to me, and just like before, I couldn’t stop it from leaving my lips. “But you and I…we…I slept with a…is that…never mind.” Racing over to the coffeepot, I got to work at making a fresh pot and tried to ignore Dorian’s gaze at my back. When God created humans, he should have made it to where our brains needed three cups of coffee before we could talk. I was convinced that after my veins were laced with caffeine, I could carry on an articulate conversation.
“I’m not the harp playing, halo wearing, white wings kind of angel, cupcake.” Dorian stood and walked over to where I stood. Leaning his hip against the counter, he stood sideways so that he was staring down at me.
“Why are you so flustered this morning?” Dorian asked. “Is it because you don’t remember me and knowing we were intimate embarrasses you?” He tilted his head to the side. The clouds in his eyes crawled slowly across his sockets and I found myself lost in their abyss.
“Gwen?”
Blinking, I focused on Dorian’s face again. “Yeah, it’s a little awkward, but it’s more than that. I’m trying to figure out who I was and knowing I was with someone like you…” I looked down. “Was it because I also deal with the dead? Are supernatural’s attracted to their own kind?” When I looked up, Dorian’s features had hardened. His lips were now just a straight line across his mouth and his eyebrows pulled together, forming a wrinkle between his eyes.
“Someone like me?”
“I just mean,” I started and then paused, trying to think of what I did mean. “I’m trying to figure out what attracted me to you, I guess. When someone gets involved with someone else, it says a lot about his or her character.” I paused to think. “At least, I think it does. Like say you’re a horrible person. Wouldn’t that mean that I am also horrible?”
Dorian’s features softened the slightest bit, though I didn’t know why; everything I said sounded like an insult. It’s the lack of caffeine, I told myself.
“I had a dream,” I continued.
“A dream?” Dorian asked.
I nodded. “That’s why I’m awake. I couldn’t fall back asleep.”
“What kind of dream?”
Though embarrassing, I knew I should tell him. “There was a dark haired man, very good looking with blue eyes. He and I, well, we sorta made out. He called me ‘my Gwen’.” Dorian frowned and looked away. Something about me dreaming about an imaginary man upset him, which only made me wonder if we were more serious than Dorian let on.
“Do I know anyone fitting the description of the man?”
Dorian stared down at me for a long time in silence as though debating whether he should tell me the truth or not. His hesitance confirmed that I did know the other man in my dream. Since I had lost my memories, I kind of thought I knew him. I hadn’t seen anyone that looked like that while I was running around town. One random piece of information I remembered was learning that our brains could not conjure up random faces in our dreams. Those featured in our sleeping worlds could be random people we see throughout the day and just not remember. However, if I saw someone resembling the man from my dream, I would have taken notice. He was just that beautiful.
“Who is he, Dorian?”
“Sounds like the vampire,” Dorian remarked with distaste. “He could be pulling you into his dreams through your bond.”
“Vampire? Bonded?” While Micah had informed me that monsters existed, I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. There were really vampires, and I was bonded to one. Why?
“Aiden,” Dorian said. “Your ex. He bonded with you a couple weeks ago.”
I turned my back toward the cabinets and leaned my behind against the counter. Crossing my arms, I stared at the yellowing linoleum floor.
“What does being bonded mean? Is it…dangerous?”
“For him,” Dorian bit out and then looked over at me. “Yes, it can be dangerous but—as much as I hate to admit it—I don’t think Aiden would harm you. It just means you’re always aware of each other. Some of the more talented vampires can pull you into their dreams.”
“I don’t think he pulled me into his dream,” I said.
“Why’s that?”
Spinning back around, I filled the filter with grounds and the tank with water, pushing the start button. Dorian reached out to me and brushed my curtain of dark hair over my shoulder so he could see my face.
“You were there,” I admitted. “You stopped it—us—from going any further. The other man disappeared.” I looked back at the coffeepot. “Can I pull people into my dreams, or was it just a dream?”
“You and Aiden were together and then I showed up?” Dorian mumbled as though he was talking to himself rather than me. I risked a glance at him and found him…smiling.
“What?”
“There are two possible scenarios, both of which are good,” Dorian said. “Aiden either conjured a dream for the two of you and your imagination created me within it, breaking his hold over your sleeping mind, or your memories are resurfacing.”
I perked up at that. “You really think my memories could be coming back?” I’d worry about being bonded to a vampire later. At the moment, the prospect of regaining my mind took higher priority.
“Maybe Micah was right and all you needed was some sleep for the spell to wear off,” Dorian said.
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Yeah, but I don’t remember anything.” I tried to conjure any semblance of memories and hit the same static wall I had before. My hope deflated with the knowledge that nothing had changed.
“Hey,” Dorian said soothingly, “all of this will be fixed today. If Micah cannot get the woman to reverse the spell, I will.” Something about the way he said that caused me to look up at him with concern.
“How?”
“I think it’s best you don’t know,” Dorian responded, turning away from me. “You already don’t trust me.”
“My mind has been wiped,” I retorted. “I don’t trust anybody.” Dorian and I watched each other for a few long moments.
“I’m one of the few people you can trust, Gwen. The things I’ve done for you…”
The coffeepot beeped, interrupting the tension between Dorian and me. While I really wanted a cup of liquid caffeine, I needed to know what Dorian meant.
“What have you done?”
Dorian gave me a sad smile, his lips thinned but curled at the edges. As we stared at one another, that something in my gut tightened again. What the hell was that?
“What I had to,” Dorian finally said. Before I could ask him any more questions, he grabbed his leather jacket off the coat rack and left the apartment.
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