Heavy-hearted, she went into the parlor and sank down on the sofa. What was she going to do about Gabriel? About Maurice? About Nina?
She stared at the strings of garlic around the windows, praying they would keep Nina's evil at bay.
And what about Gabriel? If Nina was evil, what did that make Gabriel?
He survived by feeding on the life's blood of others. She could visualize him lurking in the shadows of the night, waiting to prey on the unwary, his fangs penetrating living flesh.
It was too horrible to contemplate, too awful to envision, and yet it was true.
Feeling suddenly chilled to the depths of her soul, she huddled in a corner of the sofa, shivering uncontrollably.
"Oh, Gabriel," she murmured, "what are we going to do?"
Come to me.
His voice, deep, resonant, was calling her.
Like a sleepwalker, she rose to do his bidding.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the latch, and then she was inside the room.
Gabriel's cloak lay like a splash of black paint against the snowy counterpane.
"Sara…"
He held out his hand, and she went to him, her heart beating wildly as she placed her hand in his. Images of fangs and blood-red eyes flitted down the corridor of her mind.
Gabriel dropped her hand and looked away. "The cross," he said, his voice harsh. "Take it off."
She slipped the delicate silver chain over her head, her mind whirling with images of Gabriel as he had looked that day in the cellar of the cottage, his eyes burning, his flesh taut, pale.
With an effort, she shook the ghastly images away. Turning away from the bed, she dropped the crucifix into her jewelry box and closed the lid.
He met her gaze then and she saw the hurt lurking in the depths of his eyes. Such changeable eyes, she thought, sometimes dark with passion, sometimes filled with an eternity of loneliness, sometimes blazing with an unholy light…
"You're afraid of me." It was a bold statement of fact, not a question.
"Yes." She looked at him curiously. "Why aren't you… how can you…"
"Be awake?"
Sara nodded. "I thought you slept during the day."
"It's nearly dusk," he explained. In another hour or so, his full strength would return.
"I didn't mean to disturb you."
"It's all right, Sara. I could feel your distress, your confusion. I had hoped to put your mind at ease, but it seems I've only frightened you more."
She didn't deny it, and the knowledge that she was truly afraid of him sliced through him like a knife.
"I'm sorry, Sara Jayne," he said gruffly. "I never meant to draw you into my life."
She stared at him, mute, unable to find the words to express what she was feeling and thinking. He had given her so much. For her dancing alone, she owed him a debt she could never repay, but now… willing or not, she had been drawn into a world she would never understand, a world she had never dreamed existed except in nightmares. And as much as she loved Gabriel, she wasn't sure she had the courage to face what he was.
From his place on the bed, Gabriel watched Sara's face. Even if he hadn't been able to read her mind, her every thought, her every emotion, was clearly etched on her face, in the clear depths of her eyes.
She had been so certain she loved him, so confident of her ability to accept him for who and what he was, and now she had come face-to-face with the ugly reality of his existence, and she couldn't accept it.
Feeling sluggish, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He could not blame her for her fears, could not fault her for being afraid.
He watched her leave the room, returning moments later to hang garlic around the bedroom's single window. The pungent smell sickened him, but he would have to endure it for Sara's sake.
Their gazes met when she turned away from the window.
"Did Maurice bring you home this afternoon?"
"No, I left early."
"I told you to stay with Maurice."
Sara shrugged. "I couldn't concentrate, so I came home."
"Dammit, Sara Jayne, I don't want you going out alone."
His obvious concern brought quick tears to her eyes.
"Sara…"
She went to him then, and he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her close to his side.
Sara relaxed against him, her earlier fear seeming foolish now. This was Gabriel. He would never harm her. With a sigh, she snuggled against him.
Moments later, she was asleep.
Gabriel held her close, his nostrils filled with a multitude of odors—the fragrance of Sara's hair, the scent of her skin, the tantalizing aroma of the blood flowing through her veins. And over all the smell of the garlic that clung to her hands, yet he knew he would have walked through a field of the vile stuff to hold her close.
His internal clock told him night was fast approaching. Soon it would be time for Sara to go to the theater.
Soon Nina would be on the prowl. Was she here, in Paris, even now? How could he thwart her if she truly intended to do Sara harm? If he agreed to do as she asked, would she agree to leave Sara alone, or would her pride demand that she carry out her threat? If he could find her lair, he might be able to lie in wait and destroy her when she was at rest. The question was, would he be able to do what had to be done before she discovered his presence, before the daylight destroyed him, as well?
He held Sara as the shadows grew long, felt his strength slowly increase as the sun went down. And still he held her close, listening to the steady sound of her breathing.
"Are you coming to the theater tonight?" Sara asked.
"I'll be there." He grinned at her. "But only if you clear the door."
Laughing softly, she removed the garlic from the lintel and washed the holy water from the floor.
"Is Maurice coming to pick you up?" Gabriel asked, helping her with her wrap.
"Yes, but I'd rather go with you."
Gabriel shook his head. "No, go with Maurice. I'll follow along behind."
"Why?" She drew a deep breath. "You don't think Nina is here, do you?"
"I don't know, but if she is, I'd like to take her by surprise if I can." Gabriel cocked his head to one side, then grunted softly. "Maurice is here."
A moment later, there was a knock at the door.
"Be right there," Sara called.
"Let Maurice bring you home."
"All right." She rose on tiptoe, brushing her lips across his, and then she opened the door and stepped outside.
Maurice stared at her, his brow furrowed. "What's that smell?" he asked. "Garlic?"
"Yes," Sara said quickly. "Shall we go?"
She took Maurice's arm and urged him down the steps. It was full dark now and her heart began to pound as he helped her into the carriage. Was Nina out there somewhere, waiting?
Maurice settled onto the seat beside her and took her hand in his. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel fine," Sara replied. "Why do you ask?"
Maurice frowned at her. "You left rehearsal today because you weren't feeling well. I just wondered… what's wrong, Sara?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me, Sara Jayne. You've never missed a rehearsal before, not even that time you sprained your wrist. What's going on?"
"Nothing. I was just tired. Can't I be tired once in a while? I work hard every day."
"Sara Jayne, I know something is bothering you." He gave her hand a slight squeeze. "We're engaged to be married," he remarked quietly. "I had hoped you would share your troubles with me."
Sara glanced down at their joined hands. She should tell him now, she thought, tell him their engagement was off now that Gabriel had returned.
"Sara Jayne?"
"There's nothing wrong."
With a sigh, Maurice released her hand and sat back against the seat. "Whatever you say."
Sara was relieved when they reached the theater a few minutes later.
The opera house was filled to capacity that night. Even so, she had no trouble locating Gabriel. Her gaze was drawn to him, and even amid a sea of faces, his stood out. She felt his pride in her, his desire for her, and as she moved across the stage, she forgot everyone and everything else and danced for him, only for him.
Maurice watched Sara's face as she danced. Her skin seemed to glow; her eyes were radiant. And her dancing… never had she moved like that, her slender body swaying, turning, leaping gracefully across the stage, every nuance sensual, inviting.
From his seat in the balcony, Gabriel, too, watched Sara dance. She was dancing for him, tempting him. He saw the fire in her eyes when she glanced his way, recognized the hunger there, the promise of the night to come.
During the intermission, he left the theater, walking its perimeter, but he detected no sign of Nina, sensed no other immortal nearby.
With that in mind, he went to the stable where he had left Necromancer, speaking softly to the stallion, making sure the horse was being well cared for in his absence.
Leaving the livery barn, he went to a nearby clothing store and purchased several changes of clothing, which he dropped off at Sara's apartment before returning to the theater.
When the performance was over, he applauded as loudly as everyone else, and then made his way out of the theater, lingering in the shadows, his revenant senses testing the air for any sign of Nina, but he perceived no threat.
Blending into the shadows, he waited to make sure that Maurice saw Sara safely home.
The drive home was uncomfortably silent. Inside the carriage, Maurice sat across from Sara, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression impassive.
Sara kept her gaze lowered, but she could feel Maurice's steady regard, feel the tension that hummed between them. Several times, she started to speak, to tell him their engagement was a mistake, that it was over, but she couldn't summon the nerve, couldn't find the words to say what was in her heart.
When they reached her door, Maurice bid her a curt good night.
She watched him climb into the carriage, and then, with a sigh, she closed the door.
She knew Gabriel was waiting for her before she turned around. In a heartbeat, she reached for him, her mouth searching hungrily for his.
She felt him hesitate, and then his arms were locked around her waist and he was holding her close, letting her feel the need pulsing through him. He kissed her deeply, his tongue teasing hers. His hands slid up her back, unfastening her gown, delving through layers of cloth to find the warm satin of her skin.
Sara moaned softly as Gabriel's hands skimmed her flesh, bringing all her senses to life. She pressed herself against him, her fingers playing over his arms and shoulders. She drew off his cloak, his shirt, wanting to see him, to touch him. His skin was cool to her touch, his body like something sculpted from marble, hard and beautifully formed.
Excitement bubbled up inside her as he carried her to bed. Lowering her gently to the mattress, he began to undress her, his mouth gliding over her lips, the curve of her neck, the hollow of her shoulder, until she was writhing beneath him, wanting more, wanting it all.
She moaned softly as he drew away to remove his boots, his trousers. For a moment, he stood beside the bed, a dark silhouette against the blackness of the room. She could feel the tightly leashed power that emanated from him. The fact that he was no ordinary man was both frightening and seductive.
And then he was on the bed beside her, enfolding her in arms like steel, pressing her down into the mattress, his voice murmuring her name, and she forgot everything but the wonder of his touch, the magic of his voice, the need that shimmered in the depth of his eyes.
"I love you,
cara mia
," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Now and for always."
"Yes," she gasped. "Oh, yes."
With a cry, he buried himself within her warmth, and there was no more loneliness, no more darkness.
And as his body merged with hers, she felt herself become a part of him. For a few brief moments, her mind linked to his and she felt the terrible loneliness that had plagued him for three long centuries. For the first time, she understood the vast gulf that stretched between Gabriel and humanity. She understood his loneliness, his emptiness, his overwhelming need for the touch of a human hand.
Her touch. Her hand.
Whispering his name, her eyes filled with tears, she offered him all that she had, her heart, her soul, her love, and prayed that it would be enough.
He held Sara in his arms while she slept, one hand lightly stroking her hair. Time and again, he had tried to warn her away, but no more. From this night forward, she would be his. He would watch over her, protect her. He would destroy her enemies, destroy himself rather than allow anyone to harm her.
In the hour before dawn, he made love to her again, and then, too soon, the sun was climbing over the horizon. He gazed at her for a few more minutes, reluctant to leave her, knowing he must.
"Have you a basement?" he asked.
Sara frowned at his odd question. "No."
"An attic, perhaps?"
"There's a small crawl space in the ceiling above my closet. Why?"
"I can't expect you to abandon your bed every day at dawn."
"I could stay here, with you."
"No."
"Please, Gabriel. I hate having to leave you after we've made love. It makes me feel like a… a…"
His eyes darkened. "Like what, Sara? A
puttana
?"
"Yes, if you must know! I want to go to sleep in your arms."
"You won't like waking up next to a corpse."
"You're not a corpse!"
"That's exactly what I am," he said with a weary shake of his head. "You still don't understand, do you? I'm not alive. I haven't been alive for over three hundred years."
"Stop it!" She pressed her hands over her ears, refusing to listen. She knew what he was. How could she not? But why did he have to dwell on it? Why wouldn't he let her forget?
Gabriel took a deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides as he fought down his anger, his frustration.
"I'm sorry, Sara," he said quietly. "Forgive me."