Demon's Delight (11 page)

It didn't take Rachel long to get into the spirit of things, especially since Gabe paid for the popcorn. She munched a few pieces and gleefully threw the rest, some at the actors, and some at him. He laughed at her antics. She laughed with him, which seemed to surprise and please him.

But it was the warmth in his gaze, the acceptance and approval in his incredible eyes that crept inside her, made her feel special, like maybe she wasn't really a freak. She felt more relaxed than she had in a very long time.

Later that evening, when he left her on Harry Hines with just a light brush of his lips on hers, she found herself disappointed that it hadn't been a deeper kiss.

Or that he hadn't tried to cop a feel.

 

The next evening, Rachel tried not to think about the fact that this was her last night with Gabe. After tonight, she'd have fulfilled her end of the bargain, and if he kept to his word—which she had no doubt he would—he'd be gone, out of her life. She'd be alone again.

She ignored the misery biting at her. It was her destiny to be alone, she told herself. It was better, safer, and less painful. Gabe was an angel. Sooner or later, he'd have to go off and do other angel things. She didn't even know if he'd remain in a body. If she let herself get attached to him, she'd only be setting herself up for more pain. She'd had enough of that to last a hundred lifetimes.

The sight of a white Acura pulling in front of the tattoo parlor drew her from her dark thoughts. She walked over to the passenger side of the car as the tinted window lowered. “Hey, Caitria.”

Caitria looked tired, and she sported a black eye. But she managed a smile when she saw Rachel. “Ooooh, look at you, lil' bitch. Who'd you knock off to get that dress and those killer earrings?”

Rachel fingered the dangling earrings, smoothed her hand over the satiny evening wrap. This would be the last night she wore the black dress and the accessories Gabe had bought her. “Just meeting someone.”

“Ooooh, girl. Is it that hot man with the great threads?”

“It's the guy you met a few nights ago.”

“Oh, yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about. I bet he knows how to fuck a bitch right.”

Rachel couldn't answer. The only sex she'd experienced had been more than sixty-five years ago—and it hadn't been consensual. But something about Gabe told her he'd know what to do in bed.

“Lil' bitch, you got a few to hang with me?”

“Sure.” She got in the car, concerned about Caitria. It was obvious Danyon had been whaling on her. “You don't look too good.”

Caitria lit a cigarette, her hand shaking. “It's been a tough few. Motherfuckin' cops caught me in the act, blowing a john. Arrested both our asses. I spent two days at Sterrit afore my momma got me out. Said she was tired of keeping the kids.”

And Danyon had let her know he didn't appreciate the lack of funds, or the inconvenience—with his fists. “Why don't you leave him?” Rachel asked suddenly. She'd never brought it up before, had kept her distance from Caitria's personal affairs, but she was really worried.

Caitria shook her head with a sad smile. “Girl, I can't do that. Been with him too long.”

“You could go away, get a fresh start somewhere. Find another job.”

“There ain't nothing I can do but whorin'.”

Rachel felt a rush of desperation for Caitria. “You
can
do something else. And there's got to be a decent man out there…somewhere. One who will treat you right.”

“I don't got that kinda choice. Where would I go? How would I support my kids?”

“There's always a choice.” Rachel sat back, stunned she'd just said that. Damn. Gabe was really getting to her. Speak of the devil. He was approaching the car, wearing the same suit he'd worn to The Meyerson.

“Ooooh, he do know how to dress.” Caitria rolled down the passenger window as he walked up. “Sup, sexy man?”

Gabe leaned down. “Good evening, Caitria. How are you?”

“Things lookin' up, with your fine ass here.”

“Not sure Rachel would agree with you.” His tone was light as he opened the car door. “You ready to go?”

“That depends.” She thought about the visit to Children's Medical.

Gabe flashed his killer smile. “Just a good time tonight.”

“Sounds like fun.” Caitria gave Rachel a thumbs-up. “Go for it, lil' bitch. Check you later.” She started the car and roared off.

“Gabe, did you see her?” Rachel couldn't ignore her distress. “That bastard boyfriend is killing her.”

He put his arm around her. “I know.”

“You need to do something!” She whirled on him, suddenly furious, and knocked his arm away. “How can you stand by and let that happen?”

He sighed. “We've been over this.”

“Fuck free will!”

“You may not believe this Rachel, but there are forces at work to help Caitria.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He took her arm, gave her a little tug toward his car. “Has it occurred to you that maybe you and Caitria are friends for a reason? That you might be able to influence her to make some positive life changes?”

“Me?” she scoffed. “I'm not in a position to help anyone.”

“You underestimate yourself. Caitria likes you, and the two of you share a bond. She might listen to you.”

“I already said something, and she blew me off.”

“She might listen eventually, if you keep talking to her about it.” Gabe stopped by the car. “Although sometimes all you can do is be there, be a good friend.”

“Maybe you could help her,” Rachel said hopefully. Gabe was pretty good at getting his way, as she well knew. She thought about the Ferris wheel and grimaced.

“I'm not part of her destiny. You are my sole challenge right now.” His warm gaze swept over her. “And may I say you look beautiful.”

His intense stare flustered her. “Thank you.”

He stepped closer, his scent and heat drifting around her. His hands settled on her shoulders, sent tingling sensations down her arms.

“Tonight, imagine you're completely grown up. You've graduated from college, and are now a professional businesswoman.” Humor tinged his husky voice as he leaned closer. “You have a date with an experienced, sophisticated man who knows how to treat a woman right.”

His breath whispered over her hair, along her cheek, and she shivered, but not from cold. “Tonight,” he whispered. “Anything could happen.”

G
ABE
took Rachel to the West End, an area of downtown Dallas that had been restored and sported both trendy and funky stores and restaurants. Per their agreement, it was their last night, although he hoped that wasn't the case. He was a little anxious about the evening, because he was still feeling his way big-time, even though he was thrilled with Rachel's progress.

She'd adopted Gertie, not that she would admit it. She'd cried, she'd laughed, she'd expressed a wide range of emotions that had been bottled inside her for decades. She'd begun overcoming her terror in crowds, ridden a Ferris wheel, played games with sick children, and thrown popcorn during a theater production.

She had let him kiss her, with a sweet, hot response that had singed his wings. Still, he wasn't sure of the outcome—or if he should push her toward the next step; that of acknowledging her value as a woman, her innate sensuality, realizing she deserved to be loved. They hadn't dealt with the issue of her being raped, either. So much left to do. Gabe sent up a prayer for guidance, as he and Rachel parked and started walking.

They went to the West End Marketplace and browsed the shops. True to form, she didn't buy anything, but she did enjoy watching fudge being made at The Fudgery. She tasted a sample, and he had to laugh at her enthralled expression; she definitely liked chocolate. He bought her some chocolate pecan fudge to take home, loving her smile of delight.

They left the Marketplace and just strolled, taking in the sights and sounds. Rachel seemed more comfortable outside, with the fresh air and nighttime swirling around them. He hailed a horse-drawn carriage, and she eyed it warily as it pulled up beside them. “We're getting in
that
?”

“It will be fun.” He helped her up, got in and slid his arm around her as the carriage jolted off. “While all males are basically cavemen, your more mature and experienced man will pick a romantic setting like this to make his next move.”

“Next move?”

He answered her by leaning over and kissing her. She tensed, but she didn't resist him. When his tongue gently prodded her lips, she even opened her mouth for him. He sensed she'd been expecting him to kiss her, maybe even hoped he would, but she still wasn't sure about it.

Despite her occupation, she was innately innocent. He explored the softness of her mouth, savoring the taste and texture of her. When her tongue tentatively pressed back against his, a jolt of pure testosterone shot through him. He eased away before he did something crazy, like feel her up in public.

She stared at him, her eyes huge and her lips damp. “Did you like that?” he asked, brushing her hair from her face.

She touched her lips. “I don't know.”

Gabe smiled wryly. “Good thing my ego's not too fragile.” He sat back in the seat, but held her hand the rest of the ride.

After that, they went to a classy jazz club on the edge of downtown. The club was plush, with muted lighting provided by wall sconces and table candles. A soulful saxophone was conversing with a trio consisting of a piano, a double bass, and drums. A small dance floor was already catching some action. They got a cozy corner booth, and Gabe ordered wine.

Twisting her hands together on the table, Rachel stared at the couples on the dance floor. “Ever been dancing?” Gabe asked.

“No.” She accepted her wine from the waiter, took a gulp.

“You're supposed to sip that.”

A rebellious expression crossed her face, and she took another healthy swallow. Thoughtfully, he glanced from her to the dance floor. “What's got you so on edge?”

“Nothing.”

He leaned forward, placed his hand over hers. “You know, I've been totally honest with you during our time together. In return, I'm asking the same from you. If you have any respect for me, then don't lie to me.”

She drew back, pulling her hand free. “Why should it matter? This is our last night together. Isn't it?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

She was silent a long moment. “Yes,” she said finally. “This is it, Gabe. Nothing has changed. I'm still a vampire—a
monster
. I have no future, and I basically have no past.”

He felt like he'd been gut-punched, even as another part of him knew she'd come much farther than she realized. But she didn't yet recognize her progress, couldn't yet accept the truths he'd presented. That was
her
choice. He wasn't allowed to interfere further, once she'd exercised her free will.

“All right, then.” He picked up his wine, took a gulp of his own. He drew a breath, shelved his deep disappointment. “But I have you until the stroke of midnight, à la Cinderella. So what makes you nervous about this place?”

She gestured around. “These people are normal. They're human.” She looked at the couples so intimately entwined on the dance floor. For the first time, he saw longing in her eyes. “They have loved ones, families, lives.”

“You could have that.”
You could, Rachel. You could.

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Never again.”

“Why?”

“You know why. I can't change what I am. I'll never have my family back.”

“No, you'll never have your family back,” he agreed quietly. “But you can change your life. You can forge new relationships. The only thing standing in your way is you.”
Choose life, Rachel.

She looked away, and he felt her grief.

“Dance with me,” he said.

Her gaze swung back to him. “I don't know how to dance.”

He held out his hand, used compulsion. “Come on.”

“I know what you're doing. It doesn't work on me.” But she put her hand in his and let him lead her to the dance floor.

Her body was stiff and unyielding as he pulled her into his arms. “Relax, Rach. Just relax and move with me.” He pressed her flush against him, using his body to guide her. She was graceful and light on her feet. She quickly adapted to his moves, and some of her tension eased.

The music drifted around them, a low, seductive wail. Rachel felt soft and perfect in Gabe's arms. He rubbed his cheek against her silky hair, inhaled the natural, earthy scent of woman. His blood stirred, and desire rose, hot and hard.

His physical body reacted accordingly. His erection pulsed and strained against his pants, and her belly. Rachel might be innocent, but she was too experienced in the ways of lusting men to misread his reaction.

She shoved away and looked at the telltale bulge in his pants. Then she got the expression he'd never expected to be aimed at him—the disinterested, jaded look of a prostitute who's seen and heard everything. “So,” she sneered, a bitter note in her voice. “Are angels allowed to solicit whores?”

Anger flashed through him like a lightning strike. Taking her arm, he guided her firmly off the floor and to the club entrance. “Be right back,” he told the startled host as he dragged Rachel outside.

He took her around the corner of the building before he released her. He stared at her a long moment, willing his anger—and his body—to cool. She stared back defiantly. This was her way, he reminded himself—to build barriers whenever she felt threatened. He might only have her a little longer, but he could damn sure tear down some of those barriers before the proverbial clock struck midnight.

“Rachel, why do you always do that? Why do you always panic at normal emotions and reactions, and try to demean them? They're a part of being human.”

She crossed her arms and looked away, her expression sullen. She wasn't even going to argue with him about her humanity.

His frustration spiked. “No, angels don't solicit whores.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her forward. “But
this
angel is attracted to a beautiful, compassionate woman who has so much to offer the world. A woman who should be cherished by a man, not viewed solely as a sexual object. You deserve that, Rachel.”

He crushed his mouth down on hers, willing a response. He kissed her hard, willing her to know she was every bit a woman; to know how much he wanted her. He felt her vibrating with hurt and anger and outrage and…passion. Her tongue engaged in a sensuous duel with his, and he sensed a new kind of tension in her. His own body hardened with need and desire.

“I think I'll take that rain check on copping a feel now,” he murmured, sliding his hand upward to cup her breast. She gasped against his mouth, and he felt her nipple harden through the layers of fabric. He lowered his other hand and molded it over the firm curve of her rear. Her low moan was like music.

He raised his head, teased his fingers along her breast. “Come home with me, Rachel. Let me show you what it should be like between a man and a woman.”

 

Rachel watched Gabe unlock the door to his apartment, panic edging out desire. What was she doing here? She'd been turned on like crazy when he'd kissed her outside the club and stroked her breast. Sensations and unfamiliar physical demands had stormed through her, leaving her stunned and aching. In that heated moment of insanity, she'd agreed to go with him.

He'd kept her in a sensual fog by kissing and caressing her at every red light on the short drive to his apartment, in a gated community on north Maple. But now that they were here, sanity was emerging.

I can't do this
, she thought, the panic growing stronger. Yet…the allure of
normalcy
hung in her mind, a tantalizing hope. She hated being a freak. Maybe, for one night, she could simply be a woman.

Gabe took her wrap and purse and tossed them, along with his suit coat, onto a nearby chair. Then he removed his tie and tossed it, too. Rachel tried to calm her jittery nerves. “Are you sure you can do this…that you're allowed to…? I mean, if you're an angel, isn't this a sin or something?”

He smiled, and her heart stuttered. Taking her hand, he pressed it against the bulge in his pants. “Oh, I promise you, I can do
this
.” She couldn't help herself—her fingers curled against his erection. Desire resurged in a staggering rush.

He groaned and pulled her hand away. “I'm not an angel tonight, Rachel. I'm a man, and I want you.” He watched her intently. “You understand you don't have to have sex with me. This is
your
choice. Are you sure this is what
you
want?”

She felt no compulsion, only his need, warring with the innate honor that insisted he ensure she was willing. Her body certainly wanted to—every cell was screaming for more. She hadn't felt this vital and alive since before the war.

Oh, she wanted to be willing. Gabe had awakened a yearning in her, not only the fierce physical need she felt right now, but the longing to be human, to taste love and passion, to experience the things a cruel fate had denied her. “Yes,” she whispered, before she could lose her nerve.

His face took on a fierce, triumphant expression. She felt a frisson of alarm, but then his expression gentled. “Thank God,” he murmured, framing her face in his hands and kissing her senseless. Oh, yeah, she liked this.

She groaned a protest when he left her lips to trail kisses down her neck and over the slope of her breast, and he chuckled. “Soon,” he promised in a low, sexy voice. “We'll get to the entrée, I promise.”

He knelt and slipped her shoes off, running his hands along her bare legs, then farther up, beneath her dress. His fingers stroked dangerously close to where she was wet and aching, then retreated. She found it difficult to breathe, wanted to protest again when he stood.

He moved behind her, and she heard the sound of a zipper, felt the cool air on her back, followed by his warm hands. He slipped the dress from her shoulders and arms, letting it pool below her breasts. He reached around to cup her breasts as his lips seduced her neck. Helplessly, she dropped her head back against his shoulder.

“Nice bra,” he whispered, his fingers teasing along the edge of the lace and then slipping inside.

She should have been lost in the pleasure, but something shifted inside her, a darkness welling from the depths of her soul. Fear came crashing out, colliding head-on with desire. Pain and grief and guilt—that she was still alive, while her family was dead. The knowledge that she was completely, utterly alone. The cruel faces of the three Nazi soldiers as they took turns with her, brutally destroying her innocence…
No
.

No!
She
couldn't
do this, couldn't bear the intimacy, or the pain when Gabe left. How could she have even considered it? She felt herself withdrawing emotionally, even as his fingers stroked her nipple and his other hand slid down her belly.

Renewed panic pounded through her. Frantic, she reached out mentally to Gabe. She hit his mind barrier, remembered the futility of trying to glamour him. But then, she felt the barrier lower. He was letting her into his mind, inviting her to meld both mentally and physically with him. She was stunned by the depth of his gesture. He was giving her everything.