Fallen (7 page)

Shit. How the hell did I let this happen?

Something shifted in me as I watched the silent tears fall down her cheeks. I never knew it could be so painful to watch someone cry. Every tear she shed ripped at me until I couldn’t breathe. Watching her cry made
me
want to cry.

What the hell was happening to me? She was making me soft. She was making me…
feel
.

Jesus, I’m turning into a fucking
girl.
Next thing I know, my dick will shrivel up and fall off.

“You were right.”

Emily’s small voice surprised me. I thought she’d been sleeping.

“About what?”

“I can’t be with him and not— not—” Her words stalled out as a fresh batch of salty tears spilled forth onto my chest.

Petting her hair, I rocked her gently. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

“It’s not fair,” she sobbed.

I winced at the truth of her words. “I know. I’m sorry.” If I could shelter her from this cruel and uncaring world, I would. 

After several minutes, she pulled back, wiping her red, tear-stained face. “Sorry to dump all this on you.” She forced a weak smile and wiped my chest with the blanket. “Sorry ’bout that, too.” 

“It’s fine.” I swiped my thumb under her puffy eyes, clearing away what she’d missed.

“Did you get in trouble with your boss? For not…getting me?”

I stiffened with my hand still up to her face. Quickly dropping it, I lowered my eyes and lifted her off my lap, sitting her next to me on the couch. “No. They don’t know you matured.”

“You didn’t tell them?”

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

“Because they would’ve sent others to finish what I couldn’t.”

She placed her hand atop mine and I looked up. “Thank you,” she said.

I nodded in acknowledgment, but didn’t say anything.

Her brows furrowed as she bit her bottom lip. “What would happen to me, if I was taken to Paris?”

I wasn’t sure. Michael never explicitly told me…but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be good.

A crazy idea popped into my head. I mulled it over, and the more I thought about it, the more I resolved to do it.

I could do this. I could be there for her. And I’d be strong for her. Hell, I’d be her white knight if that’s what she needed. I could do good by her.

I
will
do good by her.

“What if… What if no one knew you were in Paris?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what if you came to Paris with me, but not as a job? Think about it: as far as they know, it could take a few years before you mature, so why not let them think you’re still in school the whole time? If I don’t tell them otherwise, they’ll never know.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Absolutely. I’m…here for you.” The stilted words felt foreign as they left my mouth, but I meant them.

She cocked an eyebrow at me, and I scowled in return. “I
am
.”

Her eyes hardened. “Why should I trust you? Why should I believe a single word you say?”

Not unkindly, I asked, “What other option do you have?”

Her eyes dropped to the blanket and she picked it up, wrapping it around her. “That’d only buy me a few years. Then what?”

I shrugged. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

She shook her head and half-laughed. “This is ridiculous. I can’t go to
Paris
with you.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

Her brow lifted in an incredulous expression. “Well, for starters, what about school? And my parents? Where would I live? How would I make money?”

“As for school, well, obviously you’re going to have to drop out—”

Her shrill voice interrupted me. “
You want me to drop out of school?
”

My jaw tightened. “From that particular one,
yes
. You can pick a new one later on.”

She relaxed her offensive stance. “What about my parents? They’re gonna shit a brick when I tell them I’ve dropped out of school and moved to France.”

I’m sure they would if they knew the truth. But that’s not gonna happen.

I sighed and stood, suddenly aware how little my black boxer briefs left to the imagination. Oh, well. Insecurity was reserved for men who were not well-endowed. “Emily…this thing with your parents—” I paused, trying to find the right words. Eloquence was never my thing. Brash, dickheadedness was my thing. 

Emily stared up at me expectantly, making my words catch in my throat. Shit, how long have I been thinking this through? 

Screw the “right” words,
words
would do it at this point. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and said, “You can’t keep them. You know that, right?” 

Shit.

I grimaced and hung my head. I’d just made it sound like her parents were stray cats or something.

“I know.”

My head whipped up. “You do?”

“I’ve already had this conversation with—” Her mouth snapped shut before his name escaped her lips. “I know,” she finished.

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling awkward as hell. “I’m sorry,” I said lamely.

She steeled herself and shrugged. “Never should’ve been with them in the first place.”

No, you shouldn’t have.

I cleared my throat, wrongly assuming that things couldn’t have gotten more awkward. Boy, was I wrong. “So it’s settled, then? You’ll come to Paris with me?”

She flopped back against the couch. “
How?
I have no wallet, no phone, no clothes, no passport.”

I rolled my eyes and disappeared down the hallway, into the office. Michael made sure Em would have proper documentation, in case
she
didn’t. We wouldn’t want a little thing like not having a passport to get in the way, now would we?

I came back into the living room and held out the big brown envelope. Her brows pulled together as she took it from me. “What’s this?” she asked as she pulled out its contents.

I sat on the ottoman in front of her. “Your driver’s license, birth certificate, and passport.”

Her brow arched as she looked up at me. “It says my name is Emily Northam.”

I shrugged. “So? The picture’s of you, and that’s all that matters. The name change was simply for security reasons. We don’t want to leave a trail, right?”

“I guess not.” She held the driver’s license up to the light, inspecting the hologram. “It looks real.”

“It is. We’ve got people in the DMV.” At her questioning look, I stood. “Let me get packed and we’ll leave in thirty.”

Chapter Thirteen

EMILY

I’m such a coward.

The realization hit me as we pulled out of Gabriel’s driveway. Instead of trying to face my problems, I ran. I ran from school, from the life I’d built in Potomac Ridge, and from…
him
.

Thomas.

My chest ached at the thought of him. God, I didn’t even have the decency to end it face-to-face. I left him a shitty note on my pillow. How fucking weak was that? All because I wouldn’t have been able to bear the look on his face as I ripped out his heart. Not only was it cowardly, it was selfish. He deserved to have that conversation in person, and
I
deserved to see the look on his face. I deserved to see how much I’d hurt him. I should have to live with the sight of his heartbroken face for the rest of my life.

I curled up in the passenger seat of Gabriel’s Mercedes, staring out the window as tears welled. I wiped them away with the sleeves of my sweater.

This had to be done, I kept telling myself. I had to leave him. Otherwise I could’ve
really
hurt him, and I refused to let that happen. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I had. And while I might hate myself for breaking his heart, it would’ve broken me if I’d harmed him.

Maybe someday he’d see that I did this out of love for him… And maybe someday he’d forgive me for the poor way I’d handled it.

“I almost forgot.” Gabriel’s voice brought me out of my head. He reached behind my seat and pulled out a small cooler. “Here.”

I took it from him and opened it, peering inside to find a one-pound package of ground beef over some ice. There was also a Styrofoam cup with a lid and a plastic fork. “What the hell is this?”

With his arm outstretched and resting on top of the steering wheel, and his aviator’s in place, he glanced over at me and grinned. “
This
is breakfast.”

“Wait—we can eat this?” I knew I could stomach
some
meat, but I was under the impression if it was raw, it had to be human. Sometimes I could also stomach regular food—like small amounts of jello or rice—but I was
not
about to tell Gabriel that. He could never find out I was only half Feeder.

But if I could eat raw ground beef instead of people? I would, no doubt.

A brown brow arched over the rim of his sunglasses. “Em…when did you find out about us?”

I frowned. What the hell did that have to do with anything? “When I matured.”

“And who helped you through that?”

I bit my lip, suddenly interested in the scenery of the highway.

He exhaled a long breath through his nose. “I should’ve known… And yes, we can eat this. We can’t
live
off it, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

The hope blooming in my chest died. “Oh.” 

I picked up the cup, feeling thick liquid move inside, like syrup. Sniffing through the lid, I asked, “What’s this?” It smelled…
good
.

“Pig’s blood.” He said it so casually, like it was Coke or something else innocuous. 

If it hadn’t actually smelled good, I probably would’ve been grossed out. Well, I would’ve been
more
grossed out. I lifted the lid, eyeing the thick dark liquid. If black cherry syrup existed, it would look like this.

I stuck my finger in the cool fluid and brought it up to my mouth for a taste. It tasted like bacon.
For. Real.
I took a tentative sip, preparing for an onslaught of cold metallic salty grossness, but it never came. Cool, bacon-y goodness exploded across my tongue, slipping down my throat like velvet. “Mmm.” I licked my lips, seeing I already drank half the cup. Who’d have thought liquid bacon would be good? But it was.
Really, really
was. “This is good.” 

“It’s shit compared to the real thing, but—” he shrugged “—it’ll do in a jam.”

I dug out the beef and fork, setting the cooler on the floorboard in front of me. Tearing the cellophane off, I inhaled the raw meat. It didn’t smell any different than cooked ground beef. Sure did look different, though. It reminded me of brains. 

Ugh, let’s not go there.

I stabbed my fork into the hunk of meat and took off a chunk, grimacing as I took a bite. It wasn’t bad. Tasted like cold hamburger patties. “This would be better warm,” I muttered after I swallowed.

Gabriel shook his head. “Only the live stuff is good warm.”

I blanched, but continued to eat. A sick thought occurred to me, and I turned to Gabriel. “When you feed, where do you— I mean what
part
do you…?”

He smirked. “Eat from?”

I nodded and set my fork down. Better wait and see if this stayed put before I ate anything else.

He shrugged. “Muscle is good. Thigh, calf, back. Or ribs, ribs are good. A little time consuming, but good. Depending on my mood, I could go for a liver or a kidney, maybe even a heart—”

“Okay, stop.” Horrific images had popped into my head while he spoke, and I struggled to get rid of them. Time to change the subject. “How much longer till we’re there?” Gabriel had been able to book us a last minute flight to Paris out of Dulles International Airport, in Sterling, Virginia. It was the closest airport to us, at only an hour away.

“ ’Bout forty minutes.”

Dang, I thought we’d been driving for more than twenty measly minutes. After I put my food back in the cooler, I leaned my chair back and curled up on my side, facing the window. 

For the rest of the drive, I pretended I wasn’t crying.

Chapter Fourteen

GABRIEL

“You should get some sleep. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us.”

Emily frowned and crossed her arms. She turned to look out the window next to her as people continued filing onto the plane. The steady stream of humans passed us with curious stares as we sat in our first class seats. 

Before I had to turn off my phone for the flight, I dug it out of my pants pocket to send a quick email to Joseph, my personal shopper. 

Joseph,

I have a female guest coming to stay with me for the foreseeable future. She’ll need an entire wardrobe, toiletries, the works. She prefers coconut scented shampoo. I’ll also need you to furnish the guest bedroom. Make it…feminine, I guess. As far as her size, she’s maybe a head shorter than me and around 52 kg. Bra size is 95D. No clue what shoe size.

If you can get this done by tonight, there’ll be a generous tip in it for you.

-Gabriel

The bra size was a guess, but I’d be willing to bet my Rolex that it was spot on. It was a hidden talent of mine. Besides, I knew a D cup when I saw one… Or
two
, as the case usually was.

Em’s quiet voice brought me out of my musings. “I’m scared to go to sleep,” she said, turning back to face me. Her red-rimmed eyes were puffy and watery. “Every time I close my eyes, I see his face.”

My cold, unused heart ached for her. I knew how bad it could be at first. The pain was constant, and followed you like a shadow. You’d be okay for ten minutes, and then your mind would snap back to the unbearable pain, like
Oh yeah, my life sucks and I want to die. Silly me, how could I forget?

I had no comforting words for her, so I did the only thing I could: I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her against me as I kissed the top of her head.

Chapter Fifteen

EMILY

I was in
Paris
. I still couldn’t believe it. From the back seat of our taxi, I watched in awe as we drove to Gabriel’s place. The sun had set, and the lights of the city cast everything in a warm, orange glow. It was beautiful.