Chapter 12 - Amelia
With my chin perched on the arms l have folded on Dorian’s chest, I stare at him through eyes of deep admiration.
There’s something different about him behind his overgrown beard and long, loose curls that have grown out so long that they brush against his shoulders. His eyes have a new glow in them, and they’re an earthier shade of brown now—depths I can lose myself in as I imagine what life could be like outside this cage, as free as the dream I once had of the two of us.
Dorian seems to share my sentiments, even though he doesn’t say a word. His equally appraising gaze speaks volumes that call out to my heart. When his cheeks turn a shade of blush, I don’t even need to question where his mind wanders.
We’d been spending a few days out of Jackson’s clutches and in the throes of passion in our humble abode of silver. Floating in the bubble of our creation, we haven’t been speaking much, but using our bodies to communicate. I guess we’re both too afraid to say what’s really on our minds—like what waits for us the next time Jackson decides he needs more of Dorian’s blood.
Our only consolation is that with every heated session, Dorian regains a new flicker of strength. Even without the antidote for the poison he’d been fed, his inner wolf is reawakening and he’s able to not only heal quicker but hear his inner wolf voice loud and clear.
I wish I could hear it speak and oftentimes find myself wondering what it would say about me. As a human, does it see me as worthy enough to be an Alpha’s mate? Avoidantly turning my eyes away from Dorian’s mystified ones, focusing on his arm that’s since healed itself.
“What does this one symbolize?” I ask as I coast a fingertip along the outline of a yin and yang symbol with two different phases of the moon on either side.
Dorian takes my wrist gently and presses a kiss on my knuckles, his lips lifted in a smile.
“It represents the duality of the Moon Goddess’s earthly creation,”
“The werewolf…” I added thoughtfully.
He nods. “Because we have both the beast and the human in us.”
“Is that who you pray to? The Moon Goddess?”
“Yes,” he concedes, sliding a hand down my spine and settling his palm on the small of my back. “We worship the Moon Goddess, Selene. She’s an integral part of all of our rituals. Usually, during a mating ceremony, we’d sacrifice an animal in Her name.”
“That’s why you mentioned that the mating ceremony wasn’t real…” I lament, trying my best not to linger my mind on what that means. I’m too afraid that the only reason he makes love to me is because I’m his only choice out here. If the mating ceremony isn’t considered complete, then what does it mean for us once we escape?
Gulping, I deflect the direction of the conversation back to the tattoo. “It’s really stunning. Are you planning on getting another one when you get out?”
Dorian purses his lips with contemplation, and the way he stares at me has me feeling unsettled. “I do, actually,” he admits with a sniff. “The last time I had a tattoo done was this one, actually,” he explains as he points to the ink I’d brought up. “My brother and I got matching tattoos the day he received his wolf.”
“So this is symbolic of his initiation…” I murmur attentively. “You must have been very close.”
“We were until we weren’t,” he sighs forlornly. “When my friend died, everyone accused me of having something to do with it, except Damian. He believed me. So, when I decided to leave Valley Walker, he was crushed. He believed that I was abandoning him, leaving my responsibilities for him to shoulder when he wasn’t born to be the Alpha.”
“I thought you said he’s a good one, though,” I speculate with a frown.
Dorian nods. “He’s a great one. I guess he hasn’t realized it yet. He still hates me.”
“And it’s clouding his judgment,” I add with a reassuring smile. “I really hope we get out, and you can make things right between you and Damian.”
“I hope so too,” Dorian says as he strokes my cheek gently, gazing into my eyes until something in the corner catches his attention. His eyes flick away, and his brows furrow.
When he turns to me with a stern glint in his eyes, his throat works on a gulp. “It’s time, Amelia,” his voice deepens. “Jackson is about to strike.”
I glance over my shoulder to see the first whiffs of gas seeping through the gaps in the ventilator duct up ahead, then nod reluctantly. Deep down, there’s a part of me that wants to forget our plan and just stay in this cage with Dorian, but it would be too selfish of me.
We’d been planning our escape for a few days now, ever since Dorian got his hands on the antidote that would counter the effects of the poison in his system. Already, our lovemaking has proved to heal Dorian in ways neither of us imagined. We’ve only been waiting for Jackson to strike again before Dorian takes the antidote to regain enough of his strength to shift into wolf form, even if it doesn’t last very long.
With a nervous gulp, I slide off the bed while Dorian dresses into his pants, watching the vent through narrowed eyes. I lift my handbag onto my lap, watching with dread as the gas seeps into the cage.
“I don’t wanna pass out,” I whimper sorrowfully, and Dorian turns to me with a remorseful frown. He takes a step forward and crouches in front of me, then cups my cheek and stares into my eyes.
“We already planned this, Amelia. I’m the only one strong enough to hold my breath so I don’t pass out.”
“What if we don’t succeed?” I yelp. “What if something goes wrong? I won’t be able to help you.”
Dorian sighs heavily. “Nothing will go wrong, I promise,” he assures me, but I’m still not convinced, shaking my head fervently as tears cloud my vision.
If the last few moments I get to spend with Dorian are for us to escape, I want to be awake. Once we’re out of here, I might never see him again, and I want to cherish every waking moment I have left with him.
I bite my inner lip, the magic words hanging on the tip of my tongue like a curse. If I told him how I felt about him, it might change everything and we won’t be able to escape in time. I have to fight the urge to reveal my feelings, noticing that we’re losing time when wisps of milky white gas crawl behind Dorian’s head.
“Please!” I beg. “Don’t let me pass out!”
Dorian gnaws on his bottom lip while his nostrils flare and he stares at me grimly. He mutters a string of curses under his breath, and it seems he’s realized my predicament when he grabs my nape and draws me forward.
“Whatever happens, don’t stop,” he rasps against my lips. “Breathe through me, okay?”
I fling my arms around his neck and crush my lips to his impatiently, not breathing through my nose but instead drinking in the air that swishes in our mouths as our tongues dance harmoniously. All I know is that the metallic click of the door will signal us to spring into action, even though we planned for only Dorian to be awake when that happens. Right now, we only have our instincts to rely on when we can’t use our words.
When the signal comes, mentally I’m weeping for the loss of his lips and the end of our time together. After today, I won’t see him again. It takes every ounce of self-control to part from his lips when he attempts to pull away. He cups a hand over my mouth and nose, grabs the antidote from where it’s hidden under the bed, and then snaps off the lid from the vial. He chugs the green liquid in one go, exhaling deeply as it affects his eyes, flashing a green glow against the brown irises and dilating his pupils.
His eyes return to their original color and he gets to his feet, grabbing my hand to lead me to mine.
“Stay behind me,” he instructs. “I’ll only be able to shift once I’m outside the cage, but the rogues will shift too. I’ll hold them off long enough to get to the elevator. You’re gonna have to run as fast as you can.”
I nod as Dorian wistfully touches my cheek while I hold my breath. As the door releases and is pulled open, Dorian turns away with his spine ramrod straight. When Jackson’s rogue werewolf henchmen spot us still awake, a series of curses ring out.
Dorian wastes no time as he propels forward, knocking the two men down and clearing a path for me to run out. When we’re safely out of the cage, Dorian can shift for the first time.
It happens in a blur, but witnessing Dorian shape-shift into his majestic werewolf form is breathtaking. At least I’m able to breathe when we’re out of the cage, and it’s a gasp of awe as he rears up and threatens the men with a thunderous howl.
The men are on their feet in a flash, shifting in front of us just as Dorian nudges my shoulder. I spring into action, running as fast as I can through the open door of the makeshift elevator while menacing growls and venomous snarls fill the air behind me.
When I’m safely in the lift, untouched, Dorian can strike the rogue werewolves with a flick of his giant, furry head. The perpetrators go flying through the air and landing on either side of the bunker, giving Dorian a window to dash toward me in his wolf form. He shifts back to his human form in time to fit inside the elevator, pulling the gates closed just as the rogue wolves get to their feet behind him.
My heart is racing right now, while Dorian pants as he hits the button on the side which sends us ascending toward the warehouse. He turns to me out of breath and says, “It won’t be long before the others come. They must have signaled them already.”
“The west wall, right?” I ask for confirmation. That’s where Dorian spotted a window that can lead us out of the warehouse since the doors are always locked and there’s no other way out.
Dorian nods, and the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. I haven’t been up here for weeks, and now there are more gadgets all around the warehouse of Jackson’s twisted schemes. With no time to waste, Dorian grabs my arm and hauls me out of the elevator, rushing to the left side of the warehouse where a thin ray of light filters from a crack in a wooden board that covers the suspected window.
He snaps his head from left to right, then drags a chair to the wall.
“I won’t be able to shift again. Not yet,” he says as he quickly climbs onto the chair and starts ripping at the wood, splintering pieces flying out behind him. “We’re gonna have to run as fast as we can from here.”
“I’m ready, Dorian,” I assure valiantly.
“Fuck!” he roars when the first half of the board is ripped away.
“What’s wrong?” I panic, clutching the armrest of the chair so tightly that my knuckles pale.
“The window…” he huffs. “... It’s not big enough.” Despite his weariness, Dorian continues tearing shreds of the board until the window is revealed. Just as he said, it isn’t big enough—for him to fit through. His broad shoulders could never slip through the tiny hole.
But when he looks down at me and offers out his hands, I know he’s thinking what I refuse to think right now.
“You can fit through,” he says as he tugs on my arms and lifts me onto the chair. “Come on. I’m gonna raise you up. Grab the rails and—
“Dorian! No!” I exclaim in shock, grabbing his forearms in a vice grip to stop him from lifting me again. “I’m not going without you.”
“You have to go, Amelia!” he roars back, gripping my shoulders forcefully. “There’s no time! They’re coming!”
True to his word, a battalion of footsteps grow louder outside the warehouse doors. My heart is pounding uncontrollably now, my ears ringing with panic. I shake my head, tears bubbling to the surface of my eyes and clouding my vision.
“B-but…” I whimper. “... How will you leave?”
“Listen to me, Amelia…” his voice is a dark, ominous growl as he stares into my soul. “You can make it out of here alive. That’s all that matters.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me!” he yells, and I shriek in shock from how loud and threatening his voice has become. “Just leave, Amelia! Run as fast as you can, and go somewhere he’ll never find you.”
“N-no!” I snap back, my voice cracking with the lump forming in my throat. “I’m not going without you!”
Even if I’ll never see him again when we’re out, I can’t leave this warehouse without knowing that he’s still inside. My heart won’t let me, the attachment to him is so strong that I’m on the brink of sobbing.
“Don’t worry about me, Amelia. I can take care of myself. You need to save yourself now, but you can’t go back to your old life. Not yet.”
I shake my head profusely and cry, “I’m your mate, Dorian. I can’t leave your side.” The declaration comes out naturally as if I don’t even have command of my voice or my thoughts, but it’s the truest words I could ever speak.
Dorian pauses for a crucial second, then straightens up, a menacing glint passing his eyes when he says sternly, “You are not my mate, Amelia! You’re just a human! I could never consider you my mate!”
Just like that, my heart shatters into a million tiny fragments that make it impossible to fight back when he picks me up toward the window. My movements feel robotic as I grab the rails and pull myself up without motivation. As I slip through the tiny square hole, leaving Dorian behind, I become numb to the emotions that would hinder me from escaping.
Once the warm sunlight touches my cheek, I know I’ve made it out, but I feel no urge to rejoice about my newfound freedom. As my feet touch the ground outside the warehouse, I look back at the empty window just as growls and roars echo inside. Tears roll down my cheeks, but I have to keep moving. Setting my feet into motion, I’m just a robot trying to save myself when I’d left my heart back in the warehouse.