Dorian's Destiny: Altered Page 8

  Of all the “people” to run into, she runs into a vampire. Fortunately, I just finished feeding.

  However, since passing the spot of the collision while tagging along with Thomas, he had thought about it and more importantly, her quite often – the most prominent of those thoughts being the desire to keep Thomas far away. This puzzled him. He always felt a twinge of guilt for the unlucky humans Thomas chose to feed upon, knowing that not only death would follow, but immense, excruciating pain induced through torture and mutilation. However, he never felt the urge to protect potential victims from his friend.

  To prove successful with his current mission, he divided his nights between keeping Thomas occupied far away from this corner of the city, and observing her, in hopes of uncovering a reason for his obsession.

  *****

  Dorian sat outside on a bench in front of a grocery store, awaiting her to reemerge. The tap on the shoulder caught Dorian off guard. Never expecting to be snuck up on, he was shocked to see her eyes staring down at him when he turned to see who demanded his attention.

  “Are you following me?” Megan inquired, one hand holding a brown paper sack stuffed with groceries, the other placed on her hip. Her right foot tapped the sidewalk impatiently as she waited for him to answer her question.

  He stared up at the object of his obsession, unable to speak.

  How did she manage to leave the store and sneak up on me? I have been sitting on this bench watching the entrance since she went inside.

  “Did you hear me? I want to know if you have been following me?” She repeated when he appeared to be lost in thought.

  Crap, she's expecting an answer. I can't tell her the truth.

  “No,” he finally blurted out.

  Unsatisfied with his answer, she retorted. “Well, I don't believe you. I have felt someone's eyes on me for a while, only at night though, then I find you sitting on this bench apparently waiting on me to leave the store. Is stalking me payback for running into you?” Embellishing the truth, she hoped to prompt him into an admission.

  “No,” he answered again with the only word his fuddled brain could manage.

  “Uh-huh. It seems you have forgotten all your previous vocabulary except “no”. She tore off a small piece of brown paper from her grocery bag before setting it on the sidewalk. Digging in her purse she pulled out a pen and scribbled an address and time on her makeshift paper. “Here. Meet me tomorrow night at this place and time with a better vocabulary and explanation.”

  “Okay,” he agreed as he accepted the paper and invitation, still unable to force his tongue to articulate more than a two syllable word.

  “You remember two words. That's progress, but you still have a long way to go before tomorrow night.” She picked up her groceries and turned to leave. “I'm going home, then to work, so there is no need to continue following me. Goodnight.”

  Once she was out of his line of sight, he rose from the bench and relocated to the oak tree to continue his nightly watch even though he had been told not to.

  *****

  Cans of tuna rolled across the counter, spilling from the carelessly placed grocery bag, as Megan collapsed into her brown suede loveseat. Burying her face in her hands she tried not to hyperventilate. Soon a moist black nose nudged her softly. “Oh, Blaze,” she sighed, lowering her hands to cuddle her cat. “I'm afraid I may have just made a complete idiot out of myself.” Pausing, she stroked his soft amber fur, calming down with each stroke. “I met the stranger I bumped into again. He was sitting on a bench outside the grocery store down the street. After sneaking up behind him, I accused him of stalking me.” At that comment, Blaze returned his owner's gaze. Two sets of almost identical green eyes stared at each other. “I know. Am I going crazy? I don't know what came over me. I don't believe he's been following me. How could I? I don't have any proof. Maybe it was just wishful thinking? I sound so crazy. Oh, and me accusing him wasn't even the worst part, I asked him to meet me tomorrow night alone in the park. Why would I do that? Why have I thought of him so often since barreling into him? Ugh!” She gazed lovingly at her plump cat as he lay sleeping in her lap. “Nice to see my rambling has lulled you to sleep. Now, I'm off to work to fret about my lapse in judgment. Thank goodness it's Aunt Josie's day off. With her Spidey sense, it would take her all of five seconds to sniff me out and lecture me on how a young lady should act.”

  *****

  Keys in hand, Dorian headed for the door alone.

  “Ditching me again?” Thomas questioned, appearing out of nowhere to block his escape.

  “Afraid so! Need more time away from the carnage.” Dorian answered, using what he thought was the perfect excuse, his personal ‘get out of jail free’ card.

  “Maybe if you participated in the carnage a little you would appreciate it and not require so much time away to 'catch your breath'.” Thomas suggested with his signature wicked grin.

  Patting his friend's shoulder, Dorian sidestepped toward the door. “I doubt it. Have a good evening, Thomas.”

  He knew blowing Thomas off so easily was a mistake but he couldn't help himself. Maintaining his two separate lives proved more and more difficult. Her allure overpowered his entire being. He simply could not stay away, especially now with her invitation to meet. Besides, talking to her might help him discover the root of his obsession.

  Arriving at the specified location, ten minutes before the designated time, he found her already occupying half a park bench, secluded by several large hardwoods.

  “You're early,” she blurted anxiously, her boldness from the previous night not yet showing.

  “Yes, and you,” he affirmed as he seated himself beside her.

  “I felt it necessary. So that I would have time to survey my surroundings for stalkers,” she joked. Truthfully her early arrival was purely eagerness. She had started preparations for this meeting hours ago by spending that time fussing over her appearance, trying on multiple outfits and hairstyles. Finally deciding on a fitted navy blue dress and a side braid, never before had she cared so much about what a man thought of her. “Are you more articulate tonight?”

  “I think so.” He smiled. “Do you always invite potential stalkers to late night rendezvous?”

  “No, you're the first,” she stammered, his smile nearly melting her into the iron bench.

  “Glad to know you don't make it a habit,” he smirked, attempting to conceal his deep concern. “While I am honored to be the first, don't you think it's dangerous?”

  With her boldness returning and the effects of his smile fading, she chimed confidently, “Maybe, but I figured if you meant me any harm, you would have had plenty of opportunities before now to conduct your misdeed. So, are you ready to admit you've been following me?”

  He laughed nervously. “You must have an overactive imagination. That's the only explanation for how you came up with such a ridiculous idea from simply seeing me sitting on a bench outside a store you happen to be shopping in.”

  “Well, you are definitely more articulate, but you're still a liar. I hope you don't pride yourself on your stealth because you are horrible. By the way, I know you followed me last night even after I asked you not too. Is that big oak outside my apartment your preferred hiding place when you're spying on young women?” She questioned, hoping she was a better liar than she accused him of being.

  Dumbstruck by her knowledge of what he thought was the perfect vantage point for undiscovered protection, he only gawked at her.

  Megan changed subjects when she noticed she wasn't going to get any answers. “Do you have to wear those shades or are you trying to look mysterious?”

  Appreciative of the change in subject and her no longer grilling him about his stalking, he readily explained his need for protective eye-wear even at this late hour. “I have an extreme sensitivity to light. So yes, I wear them most of the time.”

  “It's not overly bright where we are in the park, so could you stand to remove them?” She asked, hopef
ul she would get a glimpse of his lovely blue eyes.

  “I'll try.” He slowly removed his shades, giving his eyes time to adjust.

  She barely contained herself as his memorizing blue eyes peered back at her. “That's better. Now we can properly introduce ourselves and stop being only known as stalker and stalkee. I'm Megan Miller.” She offered her right hand to shake.

  He frowned briefly at her offered hand, squeamish to grasp it. Many months had passed without physical contact, except to feed. “Dorian Gray,” he announced after finally accepting her outstretched hand. The spark that ignited between them enchanted and alarmed him at the same time. He hastily, but grudgingly released his grip.

  “Nice to meet you, Dorian. Now that the formalities are out of the way, let's get back to the stalking,” she blurted, trying to focus her own intense feelings.

  He cursed silently. He hoped the stalking subject wouldn't resurrect itself. He pondered whether to continue to lie, avoid the subject, or tell the truth. If he told the truth, he knew her next question would be why. He hadn't exactly figured that part out yet. “I'm sorry to disappoint you but I haven't been stalking you. I could though, if you'd like me too?” he responded, smiling slyly.

  Blood rushed to Megan's cheeks, threatening to soon color them to match her hair. Too embarrassed to respond with the YES she felt like screaming, she only returned his smile.

  They observed each other for a few silent, awkward moments, neither able to look away, drawn to one another like opposite ends of a magnet. Finally, he broke the gaze of her moss green eyes. Eyes that transported him back to the forest of his youth to a simpler time in his life; another world, one without monsters. He reluctantly forced himself back to his current life in a world where monsters were most definitely real and he was one of them. Needing time to comprehend the feelings she elicited in him, he suggested, “It's getting late. Would you like me to walk you home?”

  “Sure, thank you,” she replied, though far from ready to end the evening.

  He held open the outer door to her building after walking her home in silence. “Goodnight. If you need me, I'll be under the big oak.” He smiled, hoping that by turning the stalking issue into a joke, she would let it go.

  “Goodnight.” She smiled back, hoping his last words were not just a joke. “I enjoyed my evening. Maybe we should do it again, say, same time next week.” Shocked over being uncharacteristically forward, she caught herself, about to cover her mouth with her hand.

  “Next week then.” He promised.

  Chapter 8

  Reflection

  Dorian's obsession for Megan peaked after conversing with her. Thus, his time between her and Thomas of late wasn't as evenly divided as he had planned. Having ditched him for nearly a week, he decided to spend the evening with his friend. He feared if he didn't humor Thomas with his presence, he might become curious about what occupied his time.

  “Glad to have you back on the dark side,” Thomas laughed, patting Dorian on the back. “To commemorate your return, let's get matching tattoos.”

  “You're kidding right?” Dorian groaned, rolling his eyes.

  “Of course not! You’re my best friend, actually you're my only friend, so it’s high time we seal the deal, so to speak.” Thomas responded earnestly.

  Not falling for his sincerity, Dorian countered. “But our skin will just heal, so what's the point?”

  “It's the thought that counts, remember?” Thomas added, before flashing his infamous sinister grin. “Anyway, won't the look on the humans’ faces be priceless when our tattoos vanish?”

  “If you say so,” Dorian sighed.

  *****

  Not an inch of exposed skin on either of the two tattoo artists remained unadorned. In fact, the male's large frame was impaled with so much metal, if he walked through a metal detector it would explode. Although Dorian was a vampire and could effortlessly rip the guy in half, he was intimated by his massive size. This, of course, was the artist Thomas had chosen for his 'best friend'. Thomas' artist of choice, although just as tattooed and pierced, was female and half his size.

  “This is my friend's first tattoo and he's a little shy,” Thomas informed 'Tiny' as he grabbed Dorian in a headlock and rubbed his head before he wrenched free. “Especially about the tattoo he wants to celebrate his life choices.” He leaned in and whispered in Tiny's ear.

  “What did he say?!” Dorian demanded, smoothing out his ruffled hair.

  “He told me what tattoo you wanted and where you wanted it,” Tiny replied with an overly obliging smile.

  “And?!” Dorian barked, glancing nervously back and forth between Thomas' wicked smile and Tiny's inviting one.

  “He told me to tattoo 'COME IN' across your ass,” gushed Tiny, obviously excited by the prospect of tattooing Dorian's backside.

  Laughter erupted from Thomas, realizing his joke was going much farther than he intended.

  How fortuitous to happen upon a giant queer.

  “Whhaat?” Dorian stammered. “Why would I want 'come in' tattooed on my ass?” He asked his bent over friend. “Thomas, why are you laughing so hard?”

  Straightening himself, Thomas jeered. “Oh, Dorian, I never tire of your innocence.” Patting Dorian on the back, he led him away from the two tattoo artists. One hand on Dorian's shoulder, Thomas attempted to explain the joke to his naive friend. “It's a joke, Dorian, about your sexual preference. Let's just say, if you tried to kiss Tiny, he wouldn't push you away.” Thomas glanced back, spotting Tiny ogling Dorian. “No, judging from the look he's giving you, he would enjoy making you his bitch.”

  Knocking Thomas' hand from his shoulder, Dorian huffed, “I know you enjoy my lack of sexual knowledge, but I'm tired of always being the butt of your jokes.”

  Dorian's choice of words ignited Thomas' laughter once again. After receiving a not so pleasant look from his friend, he tried to calm himself. “Sorry, your choice of words was too much. Butt? I couldn't help but laugh.”

  “Fuck you, Thomas!” Dorian snapped.

  “If anyone's getting fucked, it's you.” Thomas teased, unable to resist another jab.

  “Ha-ha! I'm leaving!” Dorian yelled, Thomas' last remark the final straw.

  Blocking the exit, Thomas placed both hands on Dorian's chest to hold him back. “No, don't go. I'll behave. I'll even smooth things over with your boyfriend.” Dorian shoved him away from the door, but before he could escape, Thomas once again grabbed him by the shoulder. “Okay, okay!” Thomas pleaded, turning his friend back around to face him. “I'll explain it was all a joke. Scouts' honor.” Thomas held up three fingers on his right hand.

  “Scouts' honor?” Dorian asked. “And why the hell are you holding up your fingers?”

  “It's the boy scout salute.” Thomas informed Dorian, who just stared back clueless. “It's a group for adolescent boys who teach useful skills and instill honor and virtue – like how to build a fire and help the elderly. I was a member in my youth. I probably still have the uniform.”

  The image of a young Thomas dressed in a uniform helping an old lady with her groceries was too much. Dorian bent over laughing, clutching his abdomen. After catching his breath, he joked, “Well, they failed because you don't have any honor.”

  “Ha, that's true,” Thomas retorted, flashing his fangs, happy to be the butt of the joke if it improved Dorian's mood. “Let's go back in. You don't even have to get tattooed, just stay and enjoy the show with me.”

  “Fine.” Dorian balked, removing his friend's hand yet again from his shoulder.

  “Fantastic!” Thomas clapped. “You're going to enjoy what's on the menu for this evening.”

  Both vampires headed back to where the tattoo artists had been left waiting; Thomas wearing a smile, Dorian, a frown.

  “Looks like I'll be the only one getting tattooed this evening. My friend has had a change of heart,” Thomas informed his audience. He perused countless pictures of past client tattoos plastered all over the walls. “H
mm. No. Maybe.” Circling the entire room at least twice, he appeared to be giving much consideration to his pick. “I know,” he announced, ending his second trip around the room. “Since I appreciate a good laugh, mostly at the expense of others, how about an evil jester? What do you think Dorian? Wouldn't that embody my personality perfectly?”

  Tired of Thomas' games, Dorian only shrugged his shoulders, not seeing a point to his friend's elaborate display. Definitely a charmer, Thomas always had the lesser species, as he lovingly called them, fawning over him within minutes. These two unfortunate souls would be no different.

  “But where should it go? Any thoughts?” Thomas glanced at Dorian questioningly, only to receive a blank stare. With his left hand hiding his mouth, he whispered in the direction of the female, who giggled, but had so far not said a word. “I guess he is still a little peeved at me over the homosexual puns earlier. Thomas pulled off his shirt and jumped into the seat. “Come on, Tiny, let's get started.”

  “My name is Leslie,” corrected the oversized pin cushion.

  “Okay,” Thomas smirked.

  That explains a lot.

  “How about an extra hundred if I can keep calling you Tiny?”

  “Whatever,” Tiny replied, shrugging his shoulders.

  Relaxing, Thomas leaned his head back. He knew his was about to begin when he felt the needle pierce his skin.

  Just as Tiny finished the outline of a jester on Thomas' upper right arm, he watched the ink disappear. Rubbing his eyes, he inspected his tools to find everything functioning properly.

  Noticing the stall, Thomas spurted, barely able to contain the pleasure of his performance. Like so many predators, he loved to play with his food. “Is there a problem?” he asked innocently.

  Tiny stared at him unsure, shaking his head slightly.

  Thomas inspected his forearm where moments before it felt like he was being attacked by an angry bee. Seeing nothing but his flawless skin, he shouted, “What the fuck?! I'm not paying you to poke me with your little prick for nothing.”