Fallen (23 page)

Up close, she had no hope, no intention, of resisting him. His fingers in her hair made her shiver with anticipation.

“Yes. And this.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed her. She closed her eyes immediately, wanting to enjoy it, savor. He came at her with a short, testing-the-waters press first, then without hesitation he went for broke, taking her mouth with his, hand buried in her hair, holding her head.

It was sexy and skilled and Sara felt it everywhere. Gabriel was giving her the kind of kiss that reverberated throughout her entire body, awakening her breasts and inner thighs, stirring up both an appreciation and a restless want for more. He tasted, felt, so damn good, and she gave it back, opening up for him, burning with want for him.

Gabriel was aware with half his brain that he shouldn’t be doing what he was doing, but he ignored the voice of reason and continued feeling, touching, tasting Sara’s mouth. She was delicious, warm and soft, and small, yet strong, confident, kissing him back with passion and fervor, and when he slid his tongue inside her, she opened for him without hesitation. Their tongues intertwined and her fingers dug into his forearm, and it was a damn good thing he was holding a bag of Chinese food or he would have pushed her against the wall, ground his aching erection against her, yanked down her T-shirt and sucked her breasts.

It would be very, very easy to lose control with her, to go from kissing to touching to their bodies naked and sweaty as he thrust inside her. He wanted that. Wanted to take it. Knew he could.

But a kiss would have to be enough, so Gabriel ravaged her mouth, pressed and licked and sucked, plunging his tongue deeper inside her until Sara stumbled backward, losing her balance under his urgent pursuit and breaking their connection. She blinked up at him, lips shiny and wet, as they both panted. Her fists opened and closed at her sides, and her nipples were clearly visible, taut against her shirt. There was a piece of hair stuck to her bottom lip and she didn’t bother to pull it away. He could read the capitulation on her face, could see that one word and they could be upstairs in his bed, yanking off denim and cotton and enjoying each other’s flesh, and he wanted it. Bad.

The only thing he wanted more was freedom. Because he couldn’t make love to Sara. Rochelle was a reminder of that. He didn’t want to see Sara grow desperate with the illogical and demon-driven urge to be possessed by him, over and over. He couldn’t live with himself if he took Sara, then had to watch her lose herself in a debilitating addiction to him, who wasn’t worthy of any sort of devotion.

He had only touched Rochelle once, brushing an ant off her arm when she had handed him his change, and look what that had done, what that had created in Rochelle.

There was no choice to be made. Gabriel had to stay strong, so he wiped his mouth, regretting his actions. It was going to be harder to resist what he had already tasted. But he would. Especially knowing that he was keeping truths from her. Knowing that she was going to hate him if she ever learned any of those truths, especially if Rafe really was her mother’s killer.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, readjusting the bag of food into both hands.

“What?” she said, blinking like a baby owl. Then she took a deep breath, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. “Right. Dinner. Great. Thanks.”

From the Court Records of the
Willful Murder Trial of Anne Donovan,
State of Louisiana v. Jonathon Thiroux
January 13, 1850
Attorney for the defense, Mr. Swift, questioning
Dr. Stephens.

MR. SWIFT: Dr. Stephens, can you explain to us what absinthism is?

DR. STEPHENS: Certainly. Absinthism is a syndrome that chronic ingestors of absinthe eventually incur. It is characterized by addiction, seizures, delirium, and hallucinations.

MR. SWIFT: What precisely do you mean by addiction?

DR. STEPHENS: Addiction is a physical dependence on the intoxicant itself. In this case, absinthe.

MR. SWIFT: And you say this absinthism results in seizures, delirium, and hallucinations?

DR. STEPHENS: That is correct.

MR. SWIFT: Could a person suffering from this unfortunate syndrome lose their faculties during one of these seizures, states of delirium, or hallucinations?

DR. STEPHENS: Absolutely. That’s the nature of the beast.

MR. SWIFT: So they could come to after one of these episodes and have no memory of what had occurred in the interim?

DR. STEPHENS: Certainly. They very easily could have memory gaps as a result of these brain traumas.

MR. SWIFT: Would you say that someone who has consumed absinthe every day for a period of at least eighteen months is at risk for absinthism, resulting in these seizures, states of delirium, and hallucinations?

DR. STEPHENS: Absinthe every day for eighteen months? Good God, I would say most assuredly a person ingesting that level of drink would be suffering from absinthism. Without a doubt, in my mind.

MR. SWIFT: Thank you, Dr. Stephens. I have no further questions.

From the Court Records of
the Willful Murder Trial of Anne Donovan,
State of Louisiana v. Jonathon Thiroux
January 14, 1850

PROSECUTOR: Dr. Raphael, in your medical opinion, would the wounds inflicted upon Anne Donovan be easy to create using a bowie knife?

DR. RAPHAEL: I am not certain what you’re asking.

PROSECUTOR: I apologize. Let me rephrase the question. We have heard testimony as to the severe damage a bowie knife can do to an individual. It is inarguably a most vicious weapon. Would you say that anyone, whether they are of great strength or not, could have inflicted these wounds upon Anne Donovan?

DR. RAPHAEL: I wouldn’t say that. The depth of the wounds, the violence of the attack, and the damage to both organs and bone indicate to me that the killer was a man of size and strength.

PROSECUTOR: Even though the bowie knife is used by sportsmen to easily gut fish and skin animals?

DR. RAPHAEL: I am not an expert in knives. I can merely tell you that bone was penetrated in a multitude of places, and as a medical expert, I do not believe that a person who was intoxicated to the point of unconsciousness could have inflicted wounds with this type of severity. I don’t believe a woman could have done this. I believe only a very strong man, in full command of his faculties, could have done this kind of damage.

PROSECUTOR: Have you ever acted as coroner in a prior murder case where a bowie knife was used?

DR. RAPHAEL: No. I have only taken the position six months past.

PROSECUTOR: Is it true, Dr. Raphael, that you are a prior acquaintance of the defendant?

DR. RAPHAEL: Yes. I had met the defendant on several occasions, always in a large social setting.

PROSECUTOR: Were you friends?

DR. RAPHAEL: I wouldn’t say that, no. We barely exchanged a dozen words.

PROSECUTOR: Yet you were seen dining alone in the company of the defendant twice last year by at least seven witnesses. No further questions.

Gabriel had kissed her and pulled back immediately. Then fed her Chinese food. What did that mean? She had no idea, and she wasn’t in the mood to guess.

There was no energy left for prevaricating. She had used it up on grief, sleep deprivation, and fear. So as they ate, she swallowed a noodle, then just said, “You didn’t have to stop, you know.”

“Stop what?” he asked, but she could tell he knew what she was referring to, because he got a wary look in his eyes.

“Kissing me. I was enjoying it.” Immensely. And she wanted to enjoy it again, all over her body. She wanted him to take her to his bed, peel off her clothes and kiss her between her thighs, stroking his tongue over her until she came, then push his hard body inside hers. The idea thrilled, just from thinking about it, and she found that intriguing. It wasn’t like her to respond so sexually to a man, and while she didn’t entirely understand it, she was too aroused to even consider waiting to decipher what it meant. She just wanted him, wanted to feel alive, whole again.

“I know. I was too.” He fiddled with his chopsticks.

It amazed her that he could actually use the utensils. She always wound up flinging chicken chunks onto the carpet when she tried to use them.

“But?”

“But . . . Sara, I can’t. I’m not capable of giving you what you need.” He shot her a beseeching look.

She wasn’t having any of that, because she wasn’t asking for anything. “Why, are you impotent?”

Gabriel let out a startled laugh. “No.” He gave a small smile. “I’m pretty certain of that.”

“Then we don’t have a problem, because I’m not looking for promises or forever or anything other than sex. We’re attracted to each other, so what’s the big deal?” Even as she spoke, she knew she was simplifying things, but she suddenly felt there was a really important reason she needed to win the argument. That she needed to have sex, with Gabriel. That she needed to
know
.

“It’s not that easy. When is sex ever really just sex? Emotion always creeps in.” He dropped down his chopsticks onto his plate. “I have all this guilt over my girlfriend, and sex, it’s like the ultimate letdown of all your guards, you know? I think it’s dangerous for me to lose control.”

“Why? Because if you lose control, you might have to admit that it’s okay to live, to have a good time, without your girlfriend?”

He looked defiantly at her. “Yes. You should recognize me in yourself.”

That was why she understood him so well. That was why she was certain they were both damaging themselves further by letting the guilt eat at them. “So if I push it, and you eventually give in, I’m the bad guy, aren’t I?”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t give in. And eventually we’ll both lose interest.”

“Oh, really?” She had to admit, that infuriated her. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He nodded with confidence.

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?” She wasn’t sure whether she regretted it or not. It had been a fabulous kiss, and she had been curious what it would be like, but on the other hand, now she knew their chemistry was real, yet he was telling her they couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Because I’m an idiot.”

Which was the male answer to everything. They seemed to think if they just admitted their stupidity, somehow it exempted them from responsibility for it.

“I can’t really argue with that.” It was snarky of her, but she didn’t want to play those games. Not with him. Not now.

He just smiled. “You shouldn’t.”

Sara stabbed a carrot, still feeling irritated. “You didn’t find out who sent those pictures, did you?”

“No. But I think we should inform the police, both here and in Naples.”

That was the last thing she felt like doing. “They’ll just make me fill out a bunch of paperwork, then they’ll never do anything with it.”

“You’re not just some random person showing up with gruesome pictures. This might have some bearing on their investigation.”

“What investigation? They think they found their man. They’re done, and whether he was convicted or not, as far as they’re concerned the case is closed.” Sara had tried to tell herself she wasn’t bitter about that, but hell, she sounded bitter. She was.

Gabriel didn’t call her on it. He just said, “It’s up to you. We can say something or we don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to. Not right now. Maybe later.” And what would change later to make her suddenly take the pictures to the police, she didn’t know, but she was having trouble being definitive. Changing the subject before he could reply, she said, “What do you think of that whole absinthism argument? Do you think that was a real syndrome? And could it have debilitated John Thiroux to the point where he wouldn’t have been able to use that bowie knife on Anne?”

Gabriel said, “I think absinthism was just a term given to alcohol addiction. I’m sure drinking excessively would result in blackouts with absinthe, like any other form of alcohol. As for hallucinations and delirium? I doubt they were true hallucinations. I think alone, absinthe acts mostly like a heightened alcohol drunk.”

Sara was sitting next to Gabriel on his couch, the food on the coffee table in front of them. Angel was perched on the window ledge, looking out at the courtyard. It was weird to her how comfortable she felt with him, in his apartment, in his life. Now that she knew about his girlfriend, saw clearly how he punished himself for her death, she knew it was a major concession for him to allow her in his space. And she wanted to help him move forward as much as she wanted that for herself. “I wish I knew exactly what that kind of drunk felt like. Can you still buy absinthe?”

“Yes. Mostly online.” Gabriel was no longer eating, but just shoving rice back and forth on his plate. “I have a bottle of it.”

“Why?” she asked him in surprise.

“Because I thought the same thing you did. That if I could know exactly what it felt like, I could determine for myself who was right. Thiroux maintained he was out cold and didn’t hear a thing. The prosecutor said that in a violent rage he sliced Anne Donovan to pieces. The coroner said a man under the influence couldn’t have exhibited the force necessary. I want to know. So I bought a bottle of absinthe.”

Sara stared at his profile. He was speaking with nonchalance, but she knew exactly what he was saying. “You can’t drink it and you know you can’t. It wouldn’t be worth it.”

“I know.” He dropped his chopsticks and pushed the plate away from him. “That’s why it’s sitting in my kitchen cabinet unopened.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Sara touched his knee, stroking the denim with her thumb, her heart aching for his pain, for hers. “But I can. I’ll drink it.” If he wanted to know badly enough that he had risked that kind of temptation, she could answer the question for him. Alcohol was not her demon.

“You don’t have to do that.” Gabriel looked at her in that way he did sometimes, where he just watched, and his brown eyes bored into her, unreadable, like he had a thousand thoughts that he wanted to share, but couldn’t, wouldn’t.