Dorian's Destiny: Altered (14 page)

Dorian jumped from the couch as soon as
Megan left his view; his nerves not allowing him to remain
stationary. He pondered how to best begin his confession. Did he
need to start by saying the word for what he was, or show his
hideous enhancements first? He was angry with himself for not
investing more time in the execution of the decision to
confess.

When Megan returned from her bedroom, she
witnessed her guest pacing back and forth, obviously distressed,
deep in thought with a furrowed brow.

Sensing her return, Dorian paused in his
pacing. “Please sit.”

She complied, but wondered what topic of
discussion would be so important for such a shift in mood. However,
before she lost her nerve, she asked the question that had been
assaulting her nearly every thought, “Why did you stand me up?”

“What I am about to tell you will answer
that question.” He returned to his previous seat. “I'm a vampire,”
he blurted out, covering his ears with his hands to protect them
from her inevitable scream.

She only gazed at him, unaffected by his
revelation.

Removing his hands from his ears, he
sputtered, “Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you, and let me just say that is
the strangest excuse for standing someone up I've ever heard.
Brownie points for originality.” She barely held back her laughter
at the sheer absurdity of his statement.

Flabbergasted by how calm she remained, he
figured she must not believe vampires existed. “You don't believe
me do you?” He shook his head.

“Uh, no.” She leaned over and whispered in
his ear, “Vampires aren't real.”

Hoping to up the shock value, he grabbed her
firmly by the wrists. “Believe me, unfortunately, they are very
real.”

“Oh,” she sighed, barely discernible even,
for Dorian's excellent hearing as she watched an extra set of teeth
and nails grow sharp as daggers.

He carefully released her wrists and the two
stared at each other. When she didn't scream or even move, he
asked, both puzzled and impressed, “Aren't you frightened?”

“A little,” she lied. In truth she wasn't
scared at all. She knew she should be; any rational person would
be.

“Only a little?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah, well, I figured if you meant me any
harm, you would have done it already.” She stated, trying to
rationalize her lack of fear to both him and herself. “To be
honest, I'm more fascinated than anything.” She admitted.

“What!” He pulled his fangs back. He hated
the way he sounded when they were extended.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, ignoring his
outburst.

He cocked his head to the side, unsure of
what she referred to.

“Your teeth and nails,” she clarified. “Does
it hurt when they come out?”

“I haven't thought about it, but yes, it
does.” He rubbed his tongue across his tender gums.

She reached for his hand, but hesitated.
“May I?” She asked eagerly.

“I guess,” he reluctantly agreed.

She grasped his right wrist and brought his
hand up to her face. “Amazing!” She chimed, marveling at the extra
feature. She desperately wanted to touch his nails, but she knew by
appearance they were razor sharp. “Oh!” She gasped, releasing his
wrist as the nails retracted as rapidly as they extended. Gazing up
at their owner, she was greeted with a weak smile full of only
human teeth. She would have enjoyed a closer look at his fangs, but
thought he probably wouldn't want her poking around in his
mouth.

Dorian unexpectedly stood up, causing his
admirer to jump. “This is not going at all like I imagined. You
were supposed to be frightened, not fascinated.” He started pacing
again. His mind struggled to decipher where he went wrong.

“I am frightened a little,” she reassured,
using her little white lie again.

“Not nearly enough.” Shaking his head, he
turned for the door. “I should leave.”

“Wait!” She shouted,
panicked over his possible departure. Thinking fast, hoping to
prolong his visit, she added, “There must be more to your reason
for being here than just telling me you're a vampire. So please sit
back down and let's discuss this like rational adults.”

He halted his pacing, but remained standing,
eager to bolt. “Fine, I guess I might as well tell you the whole
story.”

She patted the empty cushion of the sofa,
hoping he would sit back down.

“It's best I remain standing.” He wasn't as
comfortable in her presence as she obviously was in his. The
reasons for his discomfort were many. Namely, the strange allure
she possessed. And now she represented a hope; a doubt about his
current state of being. He had become content with his situation
but with her in the mix, he was becoming unstable.

“Okay,” she sighed, frowning slightly.

He exhaled. “I'll tell you why I felt the
urge to tell you what I am, but I need to backtrack a little. There
may be parts of my story you won't understand, there are many I
don't understand myself. That said, I ask that you please not
interrupt.”

She nodded her head. His request to not be
interrupted reminded her of her speech to the young man responsible
for her parent's death.

After receiving her acceptance of his
request, hands behind his back, he initiated his long story,
intending not to falter, no matter her reaction. “You were right to
accuse me of stalking you.”

She gasped, but remained silent as
requested.

“I am not sure why I felt such a strong
desire to do so and that was part of the reason I did, to try and
figure out why. I didn't feel this urge at our first
encounter.”

She felt her face heat up
at the words ‘urge and desire’, although his use of the words was
far from the meanings she wanted.

Why are you going there?
Well, just look at him. How can you help yourself? He's gorgeous
and he's in your apartment wearing those snug jeans. What if he
sees you staring at his groin? He's trying to explain himself, tell
you something important, and all you can think about is how great
he would look naked. Megan, get a hold of yourself. Think of one of
the less attractive patients you dealt with earlier.

With that thought, she felt her temperature
drop and her attention go back to his words, not his form.

“The urge manifested itself while on an
outing with my friend, Thomas, who is also a vampire.”

“Sorry,” she uttered after sighing again.
She swore to herself she would maintain her composure no matter
what came out of his mouth.

“Thomas and I traveled past the location of
our collision and that's when I decided I didn't want you to fall
victim to him. To keep this from happening, I followed you and
attempted to keep Thomas far away.”

She managed to keep from outwardly
responding, but inside her mind spun.

Two vampires, each with different opinions
about my fate.

“It was about two weeks from that point to
when you caught me sitting on the bench outside the little store
you frequent. I'm still clueless how you were able to sneak up on
me. How did you do it and how did you know I had been following
you?” He asked, once again puzzled and impressed by the woman
sitting in front of him.

The words took a moment to make their way
out of her mouth since she had been concentrating so hard on
remaining silent. “I'm not sure, just got lucky.” The next part of
his question wasn't one she wanted to answer, but since he was
being truthful, so would she. “Truthfully, I didn't know. The
accusation kind of just stumbled out. I did find it odd to see you,
but I was extremely happy. I had been hoping to see you again since
our collision.” Stopping herself, she stared down at her hands,
shocked by how her feelings poured out.

“I see,” he replied,
despite not understanding her answer. She was obviously just as
confused as he was concerning their connection. “At that encounter,
you asked me to meet you at the park and, being caught off guard, I
agreed before thinking things through. I followed through with the
meeting against my better judgment, hoping to ascertain why your
existence had become so valuable to me. Until meeting you, human
life has slowly, but surely become of little importance. I enjoyed
myself at the park and agreed to do it again. However, between our
first park meeting and the next, I was forced to see what a
terrible mistake I was making.” He stared off as the face of the
blood soaked monster invaded his mind. He shook his head to rid
himself of the horror.

Looking into Megan's innocent face, he
concluded the “why” of his confession. “I realized then that you
and I could not be. Because of what I am, I can't be your friend.”
He felt sure with how strongly he felt about her already that their
relationship would quickly evolve into even more than friends. “So
I stood you up. I observed your reaction from the cover of night
and it saddened me deeply, but not nearly as much as your
discussion of me with your friend in the coffee shop.”

She held up her hand like a school girl.
“Sorry to interrupt, but you weren't in the coffee shop. I would
have definitely noticed,” she insisted, lowering her hand.

“You're correct. I was on the sidewalk
utilizing a broken a street lamp to remain hidden.”

“Then how could you possibly know I was
talking about you?” She asked, her curiosity not allowing her to
remain quiet.

“I have enhanced hearing,
along with other enhancements which aren't important, but are more
reason for there to not be an “us”. Back to my story, if you are
done interrupting.” After receiving a nod, Dorian continued. “After
I heard and saw how distraught you were because of the bad
decisions I made, I decided something should be done. So I
confessed, hoping you would see the fault was mine, not yours.
There is nothing wrong with you, except maybe your illogical lack
of fear. By the way, confessing wasn't the only solution I thought
of. The thought of simply walking away and forgetting about you
crossed my mind, AND,” He bent down, grabbed her forearms tightly
and bar
r
ed his
fangs. His blood red eyes seared into hers as he spat his words,
“murdering you! The easiest most natural solution for my kind would
be to drain you dry.” Releasing her with a shove, he hoped his
words and actions finally instilled some much needed fear. “But no,
that's not the solution I chose.” Dorian spoke more to himself than
Megan. “I chose the hardest, because for some reason, I still give
a fuck. Not even Thomas' depravity has changed me completely, much
to his bedevilment.” Dorian stalked toward the door, frantically
pounding his temples to quite the conflicting voices.

The shock from his actions and the
revelation of contemplating her murder wore off fast, replaced by
the fear of him leaving.

Why does that thought
scare me more than my own death?

Shaking her head, she jumped from the couch,
barely reaching the door in time.

Not registering her presence in front of
him, he halfway turned around to tell her, “I need to leave,” when
he realized where she now stood. Looking down at her tiny frame
anxiously blocking his escape, Dorian changed his mood. “I'm sorry
I grabbed you. I came here tonight to scare you, but only with my
words not with physical harm.”

She looked into his sad blue eyes and
pleaded. “Don't leave, please! You said what you came here to say.
Now let me talk. You can even interrupt, I won't mind. Just don't
leave, not yet.”

“Fine.” he sighed, ignoring his better
judgment again.

“Let's sit back down,” she suggested,
walking him farther away from the exit.

As soon as they were once
again occupying their respective ends of her small couch, she
commenced her speech. “I lied earlier. I'm not afraid of you, not
even a little. Do I understand completely why that is? No. I am a
reasonable person, far from what any would consider a risk taker.
Common sense tells me I should be afraid of you even without your
unusual confession. You've admitted to stalking me. You've
convinced me you're a creature I didn't know existed, whom I assume
has been at least partially portrayed correctly in literature and
cinema. That being said, you're obviously not good for my health.”
She swallowed to keep down the inappropriate giggle making its way
up her throat. “However, against
my
better judgment, I am far more scared for you
than of you. So you can continue to attempt to scare me with more
words or physical harm, but it's not going to give you the results
you're expecting. You're not going to scare me away.” She crossed
her arms defiantly across her chest.

He rubbed his temple to
soothe the aching. “How has t
his gone so
far from the way I planned? You were supposed to be frightened or
disgusted.”

“Disgusted?” She questioned. Disgusting
would never be a word she would use to describe her feelings for
him.

“Yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I
am a monster, a parasite. Like a leech to survive, I must take
drink blood from others. Not only that, I crave it, enjoy it.”

Undeterred by his tone, she countered his
reply, “You could say the same thing about those who eat meat.
People kill millions of animals every day to satisfy their hunger.
I had a hamburger for lunch, so I guess I'm a parasitic monster
too.”

He shook his head at her ridiculous
comparison of the two of them. “Humans have a choice, I don't.”

She smiled, pleased he had proved her point.
“Then that makes you better than them, me even. Dorian, why do you
insist on convincing yourself and others that you're something
you're not?”

“Ugh!” He
forced his hands to remain stationary in his lap
instead of shaking some much needed sense into his host. He grew
more and more frustrated by her
reluctance
to see him for what he truly was. “You should stop
trying to convince me I'm not as horrible as I
think I am.”