Page 128 of Temporary Vows

Shit, of all the things that could happen now.

“Tell my driver to leave the keys with one of my brothers,” Dorian answers, but he’s still looking right at me. “My wife and I will make our way home when we’re ready.”

When his cock hardens inside me, I remember he’s still there.

Then I register three things in quick succession.

One, he said when we’re ready.

Two, the way he called me his wife.

Three, he’s moving inside me again.

Chapter 29

Dorian

Taking a deep drag on my cigar, I lean back against the window pane and scan the books on Elodie’s shelf.

We ended up in her room. She’s asleep on her bed, across from me.

I blow a ring of smoke out through the window, then return my gaze to the shelf. I linger on the last three books at the end of the middle shelf.

Lord of the Rings.

Dante’s Inferno.

The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Everything else is neatly organized—by author, by title—but those three sit apart, tucked at the end of the shelf like they mean something more.

I can’t help but think she put those three at the end for a reason.

They must be her favorites. She would do something like that.

The Picture of Dorian Gray, though, might be there for additional reasons. She called me that once—Dorian Gray. I don’t think she ever stopped.

At first, I thought nothing of it. I thought it was a play on similar names. Dorian Gray—Dorian Vale. But as the years went by I realized there were more similarities between me and the classical fictional character. And that’s what she meant.

Dorian Gray is a man who begins as innocence shaped into beauty, untouched by the darker edges of the world. But once he becomes aware of his own perfection, that awareness turns into obsession. He comes to believe that life is meant to be lived in pursuit of pleasure above all else, and that youth and beauty are the only things of true value. Over time, he grows detached, cruel in his indifference, and increasingly hollow, chasing sensation not because it fulfills him, but because he cannot stop. The truth of what he has become festers beneath the surface, until it finally destroys him.

Swap out the pursuit of pleasure, youth, and beauty for power, and that’s me.

Except I never intend to lose control of what I become. At least I hope not.

My gaze drifts to Elodie.

She’s lying on her side with her hair sprawled around her. Moonlight spills over her skin, casting it in a soft silver glow.

She’s perfect.

Even in sleep, she carries that ethereal presence. Something angelic that suits her.

She crashed out after our last round, completely spent from my relentless taking.

All the resistance in her was gone. Like it had never existed.

I liked her like that. She felt like the dreamer again.