Fallen (23 page)

My blood boiled at the thought, and for half a second, I wished he were still alive so I could gut him all over again.

“How do you do it?”

Her voice brought me out of my murderous thoughts. “Do what?” I asked.

“Not care.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t let things affect you. I wish I could be more like that. It must be so liberating.”

I pulled back. “That’s not true.
You
affect me. You affect me like nothing else can. And I’m glad you’re not like that.”

She looked down, her dark lashes hiding her eyes so I couldn’t see her reaction. However, given that she shot me down earlier, I had a pretty good idea how she felt.

Shit.

I scrubbed my palms over my face and winced. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” It was kind of funny—in a painfully ironic way—that the first time I stuck my neck out, I got my throat slit. 

God, why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? I’d kept my feelings bottled up for centuries, but after a few months with this chick, I was spilling my guts like a twelve-year-old girl.

“Why didn’t you tell me that marking me was such a big deal?”

“What?” I looked up, thrown off-guard by her question.

“Your boss, Michael, was obviously shocked that you took it that far. Why?”

Oh,
great
. Another topic I had absolutely no interest in discussing. I sighed, thinking about all the other things I’d rather be doing. Like taking a bullet to the head or having all my fingernails pulled off. 

“It’s not easy to mark someone. That’s not the type of thing that can be…faked.” At her confused look, I elaborated. “You can’t mark someone that you don’t honestly consider yours.”

Her eyes widened briefly, but she was quick to play it off. “I didn’t know you felt like—”

Grimacing, I held up my hand to stop her. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s not like I asked you to marry me, or anything. I mean, it’s no secret that I feel…responsible for you.” 

It felt shitty to downplay something so significant, because in our world, marking someone was a BFD, and not something I took lightly. But I couldn’t admit that to her. 

I could barely admit it to myself.

Chapter Forty-One

Monday, August 2nd

EMILY

The Feeder conference was held in a Marriott, of all places. When I asked Gabriel why this big, super-secret meeting was held in a human hotel instead of their compound, his answer was both logical and unsettling: “It’s insurance. Healers won’t want to draw unnecessary attention by blowing up a bunch of humans in such a public place.”

I’d decided not to attend the actual meeting, even though I was staying at the hotel with Gabriel. Since I had my foot in both camps, I thought it best to remain neutral. Besides, it just felt wrong to actively conspire against Healers. After all, I technically was one, and I’d known one personally.
Very
personally. I couldn’t bring myself to root against him.

I waited what seemed like forever for Gabriel to come back from the meeting. After hours of watching mindless reality shows—and still no Gabriel—I threw on a cute sundress and slipped on some sandals, then left the room. 

A perk of recently feeding? I didn’t have to worry about makeup. No more concealer to cover up the dark circles under my eyes, no more blush to make me look less sickly. I felt amazing, and I was stronger than I’d ever been, even right after I matured. I felt like a god.

It was incredibly addictive.

Of course, I knew this post-feeding high wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, I’d need another fix, and I was already worrying about the poor soul who’d wind up as my next dealer. If only it could be like last time, where I had no remorse for killing a bigger monster than me…

I froze as the solution hit me, and I felt like the world’s biggest moron for not having seen it before.

“Miss?”

My head jerked around, surprised by the male voice beside me. I must’ve been deep in thought for him to sneak up on me like that. Hell, a meteor probably could’ve hit me and I wouldn’t have noticed. “I’m sorry?”

“Going down?” The older gentleman smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he pointed to the untouched call buttons of the elevator in front of us.

Apparently I’d just been loitering in front of the elevator, staring off into space like some kind of creeper. Awesome. “Yes, thank you,” I mumbled, knowing my face must have been beet red.

He pushed the button for us and waited with me in silence as the elevator rose to the fourth floor and we got on. My embarrassment quickly faded when I exited in the lobby, anxious to find Gabriel and tell him my plan. 

My face fell when I got to the auditorium doors and saw they were still closed.
How
could they still be in there? It’d been hours. 

Poor Gabriel must be bored out of his flippin’ mind.

I thought about texting him, just to keep him entertained, but ultimately decided against it. I didn’t want to get him in trouble, and Michael was already pissed that we were here to begin with. But Philip had invited us, insisting he needed someone on the council who “wasn’t a complete fucking moron,” so, here we were. Plus, Gabriel had enjoyed the not-so-subtle
eff you
message it sent Michael’s way.

Meandering back through the lobby, I wandered into the hotel bar. It was 9:30, so the place was moderately busy. I grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a cherry coke.

I’d just taken my first sip when someone took the seat next to me. “You get bored in there, too?”

I glanced at the guy next to me, surprised to hear an American accent. You didn’t hear too many of those here in London. I was even more surprised to see the gorgeous face that voice belonged to. He was a Feeder. I thought I was the only one here not in that conference room.

Shaking my head, I set my drink down. “I never went in.”

“Ah.” He smiled, and it was one of those perfect, million-dollar smiles I’d come to expect from all Hidden, regardless of race or gender. Signaling to the bartender for a drink, he said, “Maybe next time I should do the same.”

I watched him as he ordered, noting his smooth mannerisms and easy confidence. He was self-assured, and that was hot. And it didn’t hurt that he looked like he stepped off the pages of a J. Crew catalogue, either.

Lifting his drink, he said, “Here’s to playing hooky.” 

“Cheers,” I said, smiling as I lifted my glass.

Chapter Forty-Two

GABRIEL

To my immense displeasure, I spotted Emily across the lobby, in the hotel bar, talking and laughing with some Feeder as I left the conference. 

Damn it, I
told
her to stay in the room. I wouldn’t put it past Michael to try and snatch her while I was gone today, and even though I’d watched him like a hawk, I knew that made little difference. He could just as easily have sent someone to do it for him. And if it wasn’t for the way this guy’s eyes lingered on Em’s tits as they talked, I’d wonder if this was the guy. But nope, it was pretty fucking obvious that his motivations were not of the monetary variety.

Didn’t she see how he was ogling her? Or did she just not care?

My hands fisted as an ugly feeling bubbled deep inside me. Had she forgotten whose arms she slept in every night? In whose bed? And whose goddamn scent was all over her?

Mine. Mine, mine,
mine
.

“Don’t do it, Gabriel.”

I glanced beside me, frowning at Helen. “Do what?” I asked, crossing to a darkened side of the bar where I could watch them easier. 

Wow, stalk much?

Scowling at myself—and my seriously creepy behavior—I signaled to the bartender. Seeing Em with another guy was the cherry on top of a
fantastic
day. 

I didn’t just need a drink, I needed the whole friggin’ bottle.

My scowl deepened as Helen slid into the empty seat next to me. “I don’t know, exactly, but you look like you’re about to do something stupid.”

Why, sure, Helen, you can join me. Thanks so much for asking.

My eyes flicked over to her, looking at her pointedly. “So going over there and ripping that guy’s head off would be stupid?”

Half of her mouth lifted into a smirk as she looked at Em and that douche. “I’m afraid so.”

The bartender came over and set two square napkins in front of us. “What’ll it be?”

I leaned on the bar and looked at Helen. “I’m in the mood to make some bad decisions. How ’bout you?”

She grinned, eyeing the bartender. “Always.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Poor bastard didn’t stand a chance.

“Tequila it is,” I said, slapping the bar. “Bring us a bottle of your best.”

Twenty minutes later, I downed the latest shot in one gulp. I didn’t even feel the burn this time. Hadn’t in…how many now? 

I tried to think back to how many I’d had. All I could come up with was:
a lot
.

Helen winced as she took another hit, her delicate features twisting as she said, “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

I snorted. “How I
feel
? What are you, human?” Since when did Helen understand…
mushy
feelings?
I
didn’t even understand them. All I knew was that I didn’t like this guy talking to Em. It made me…angry. Violent.

A sad smile touched her lips as she looked down. “I was in love once.”

Love?
“I don’t love her.” The denial was automatic, but I had to wonder if I really meant it.
Was
this love? Was that why I felt so possessive? I thought love was supposed to make you happy. I was miserable.

It’d been so long that I wasn’t even sure I could recognize it anymore, let alone feel it. I’d just assumed centuries of deadening myself to any and all emotion had killed the capability. But somehow, Emily had managed to claw her way into the vacant space where my heart used to be, and she was making it beat again. She was making me
feel
. 

For the first time in over four-hundred years, I found myself with hope. And that was a dangerous thing.

When I glanced back at them and saw him leaning in to say something—saw how close his body was to hers—my hand reflexively squeezed my shot glass, shattering it in my palm.

The shards slipped through my fingers as my feet started moving, seemingly of their own volition. I vaguely heard Helen call out my name.

Red tinged my vision, my fists clenching by my sides. I squeezed so hard that the few pieces of glass still in my palm turned to powder as I stalked toward them. 

He was a dead man.

Em looked up as I approached. “Gabriel, hey—”

“The hell is your problem, man?” I shoved the guy’s chest, making him stumble back. “You don’t have to be all up on her to have a conversation.”

“
Gabriel!
” Emily hissed, pulling back on my arm. “What the hell is your problem?”

I met his glare with my own. “My
problem
is that this asshole won’t stop staring at your tits for more than two seconds at a time.” Grabbing Em’s upper arm, I dragged her away, back toward the restroom. 

“Get off me,” she seethed, trying to jerk free from my hold. 

I pulled her into the empty ladies’ room, locked the door, and tossed her on the couch of the waiting area.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she shrieked, scrambling up from her spot on the black leather. 

She shoved at me, and I captured her wrists. “What the fuck is
your
problem? I mean, really, Em?
That
guy?”

Yanking herself free, she had the gall to look offended. “He was
nice
, and for Chrissakes, we were just talking.”

Likely fucking story.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “You were talking to him for over twenty goddamn minutes! What could
possibly
be that interesting?”

“You were timing me?” Her eyes narrowed into murderous little slits, and if I were a lesser man, I would’ve shielded my balls.

“So what if I was?” There was a hard edge to my voice as I stepped closer, trapping her against the wall. She looked up at me, her face inches from mine.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been drinking,” she muttered, moving to slide past me. 

I grabbed her hand, stilling her. “That has nothing to do with this.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine. “What has gotten into you tonight?” she asked, yanking back her arm.

“I don’t know!” My fingers ran through my hair as I tried to think, the shots catching up with me quickly. It was hard enough trying to articulate my feelings about her when I was sober. Add booze to the mix, and my brain was a giant train wreck. “You can’t just…talk to guys like that.” Even in my inebriated state, I realized how stupid that sounded, so to a perfectly sober Em, it must’ve been epic. “It makes me feel…” 

My jaw clenched as my mouth snapped shut. I had to make her understand what she did to me, how I felt when she was around and how I missed her when she wasn’t. If she could just know what this felt like…

Her stance and mood shifted as my eyes seared into hers.

Without thinking, I pulled her to me and cupped the back of her neck, kissing her hard. 

Gasping, she broke away, her hand flying up to her lips. “What are you doing?”

I have no fucking clue.

I swallowed and touched my head to hers. My heart pounded beneath my ribcage, its beating protests all I heard as I prepared to have it ripped out. “I need you to feel this—feel what you do to me.” I ran down her impossibly smooth arms to intertwine our fingers, my eyes locking on hers. “Please tell me you feel it, too.”

She has to. This can’t be one-sided. It just
can’t.

Her eyes dropped to my mouth as she nodded. “I feel it too.”

My lips melted against her, desperate and feverish as they kissed and sucked. I grabbed her ass, lifting her off the floor as her legs wrapped around me, and carried her to the couch. Sinking into the seat, she straddled me, grinding her hips against the impossibly hard bulge in my pants.