Unfaithful (8 page)

“Evan!” I exclaimed, frightened and amazed.

We were floating, suspended on the mirror of water. “What’s—How is this possible?” I clung harder to his arm, which was rock solid, his muscles flexed, as my eyes shot nervously to the lake beneath our feet. Evan raised me slightly, turning me to face him. Though I knew I wasn’t running any risk, my body refused to relax and continued to move cautiously.

“Well? Fun?” he said, echoing my question.

I slowly raised my eyes and found his smiling ones waiting for me.

“Evan! We’re suspended on top of the water!!!” I cried, my fingers clutching his arm.

“Yes.” He smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Isn’t it electrifying?”

I looked for the right words but it was no use. It all seemed so bizarre yet it was real. “It’s incredible,” I said in a barely audible whisper.

It was as though Evan’s coming into my life had brought down all the barriers between the real and the imaginary. There was no border between them any more; the two worlds had merged, bound together by a gossamer thread of magic—the same thread that had bound me to him since the very first day.

Evan pulled me closer to him and held me tighter.

“We’re hovering on top of the water,” I stammered, still unable to wrap my head around it. “It’s illogical,
impossible
. How did you—?”

His laughter interrupted my babbling. “I’m an Angel, Gemma. Once in a while I like to remind you of that. I want you to be part of my world.”

I leaned in to kiss him and his fingers tenderly stroked my back. Sometimes it was so natural—so
human
—to be with him that I forgot about the power intrinsic to all Subterraneans like Evan: the ability to control the elements. Fire, water, earth, air—they all obeyed his commands so he could carry out his orders.

Suddenly doubt gripped me. No, it wasn’t doubt. It was a sense of foreboding. My eyes shot to Evan’s. “How do we get back to shore?” I said, worried, looking for the two handles. They were long gone.

The mocking smile that spread across his face gave me the answer. All at once I realized why Evan had taken off his shirt. He’d planned this. Before I had the chance to object, the support under my feet vanished and I plunged into the cool water, still in Evan’s arms that didn’t let go of me for a second.

“Woohoo!” Evan shouted, whipping back the dripping-wet hair that fell over his forehead. God, was he a sight to behold.

“It’s freezing!” I shrieked as we treaded water in the lake.

Evan grabbed my hips and pulled me to him. “I can always warm you up,” he whispered, his tone sensual. A laugh escaped him.

“You think this is funny?” I said indignantly, pretending to pout. The water wasn’t actually so cold. “I can do it on my own.” I pushed him away.

Evan raised his eyebrows and stared at me with a sly expression. “I never doubted you could swim.” He pulled me against him harder and my heart leapt to my throat at the rough contact with his body, his face a fraction of an inch from mine. His moist lips rested softly on my mouth and the warmth they filled me with penetrated all the way to my bones. He kissed me again and again, twining his fingers in my wet hair. My hands slid up his shoulder blades, squeezed his hard shoulders, stroked the skin left bare by his undershirt.

The minutes ticked away, heedless of our longing for time to stand still, until the sunlight began to fade behind the dark mantle of forest. The sunset was our backdrop as we came out of the water. My fingers were wrinkly and my sopping-wet clothes clung to my skin as I shivered in the cool September air.

“You’re cold,” Evan said, thoughtfully warming my arms with his hands.

“Just a little,” I stammered, forcing my teeth not to chatter.

“Take this.” He leaned down, grabbed the red shirt he’d left on the grass, and offered it to me. “What are you waiting for?” he said, his eyes on me as I hesitated. “Take off your clothes and put this on. It’s dry.”

I took it, embarrassed. “What about you?” I asked shyly, pointing at his clothes that were as soaked as mine.

He grabbed his white undershirt by the neck and pulled it over his head. My heart skipped a beat as I stared at his bare chest as though seeing it for the first time. The reason for the quiver deep in my heart became clear to me: desire. The fierce desire to touch him, to stroke his smooth, tanned skin without the hindrance of clothing.

“I won’t catch a cold if that’s what’s worrying you,” he assured me.

From his smile, I guessed my dazed expression must have given me away. I instinctively looked away and made myself turn around, but Evan took my wrist firmly in his hand.

“Come on.” He pulled me against him roughly, his gaze sensual. His voice took on the warm tone that made me melt every time I heard it. “Don’t tell me you’re still embarrassed to see me undressed.”

I babbled something incomprehensible and lost all control as Evan held me close. His body was so warm. I tried hard to find my voice, trapped in the flow of my emotion, and opened my mouth only to close it again, powerless.

Evan’s grin broadened at my awkwardness. “I was only kidding! Come on, Gemma!” he said, relaxing his grip. “I’ll wait for you here. Go change or
you’ll
be the one who catches a cold.”

I must have been a statue of embarrassment because Evan touched his fingertip to my nose to snap me out of my daze. I blinked and stared at the red shirt. “Yeah, I guess I should,” I murmured, heading toward the car.

“Everything okay back there?” Evan’s voice reached me behind the door of the BMW as I took off my wet clothes, dropping them to the ground. I wasn’t sure whether the trembling in my chest was because I was afraid he might take a peek in the mirror—or because I was afraid he might not.

“I’m naked and wet and going home wearing only your shirt. Is that ‘okay’ enough for you?”

“Hmm . . . an interesting prospect. I’d say it’s okay enough.” He smothered a snicker.

I got into the car and shot him a look brimming with sarcasm. “I’m really happy you’re having so much fun teasing me today.”

Evan leaned toward me, his face inches from mine, taking my breath away. He reached across my body and shut the door, then sat back and started the car. “Who says I was teasing?” he said with a grin, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He stared at my mouth for a second and then, clearly unable to resist the impulse, slid his eyes down my body in a slow exploration of my legs, barely covered by his shirt. He began to move closer, his face growing serious, uncontrollable desire in his gaze, and I understood that the game threatened to become dangerous.

For the first time, his movements seemed hesitant, cautious, almost embarrassed. He slowly swept back my wet hair on one side, baring my neck, and gently caressed my skin, his face inches from mine. Tenderly, he drew his lips to the curve of my neck and rubbed his temple against my cheek. After a moment he sought my gaze, a tortured look on his face, and his forehead came to rest on mine. With a deep breath he closed his eyes, his chest trembling, revealing his desire. Was it possible he was experiencing the same emotions I felt in my heart?

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered against my lips as his hand hesitantly slid down my skin to where the shirt didn’t cover it. I half closed my eyes, pervaded by a quiver of uncontrollable heat.

“It’s your shirt,” I murmured, lacing my fingers with his. “You should lend it to me once in a while.”

Evan smiled, his forehead resting on mine. “But then I’d have to kill anybody who saw you,” he whispered, stifling a smile before growing serious again. “Do you realize you risk driving me crazy?” he murmured, narrowing his eyes.

I sought his lips with mine and ran my fingers down his bare chest, letting myself be swept away by my uncontrollable desire for him, to feel his hands on my body. I felt feverish as my mouth melded with his, my heart ready to burst. My skin wanted him. Driven by the need to eliminate the distance between us, I moved closer, lifting myself a little without taking my lips off his. My body brushed his and my need for him overwhelmed me.

In the middle of the blaze of passion that enveloped us, a glimmer of lucidity made me pull my lips away from Evan’s and rest my forehead against his, forcing myself to regain control of my breathing.

We’d never spoken about it openly but I could sense how intensely Evan wanted me. At times I had the feeling his human body couldn’t contain the passion that set his blood on fire. And yet he always managed to control himself, leaving the decision about when to stop to me.

Forehead to forehead, our eyes expressed our desire, locking for a long moment as our breathing grew steady again.

“We’d better go back so you can dry off,” he said, my hesitation checking his impulses. I nodded without saying a word as my heart rebelled, continuing to race.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we drove, breaking the silence. Probably neither of us had ever experienced such feelings before.

“My place. That way you can put on something”—he cleared his throat and I thought he was about to say
dry
—“less dangerous.” He shot me a glance.

“Less dangerous . . . ” Interesting choice of words.

Contact with him had lit a fire inside me that burned silently day after day, blazing up whenever his body was close to mine. Sometimes all it took was one look from him to set it aflame, like gasoline.

A few minutes later the car stopped in Evan’s driveway. I dried my hair in the bathroom and went to join him in his room but unexpectedly found it empty. I fell onto his bed. On the ivory-colored walls, the old family portrait caught my eye. It had always been there and I’d studied it down to the last detail, but his parents’ faces, gazing at me from the canvas yellowed by time, had taken on a new meaning now that I knew their story. In the portrait Danielle was seated beside a piano in blond wood. Soft dark curls cascaded to her shoulders, partially obscuring Evan’s hand as he stood behind her. On her lap she held a pair of long gloves in white lace. Her face looked strained, her smile dictated by circumstances. I studied her more carefully, looking into her eyes, and was startled by the depths I saw in them. It was almost as if they were actually looking at me.

The elder James stood on the other side of the grand piano, his haughty posture effectively conveying the clear-cut division between him and his family.

Evan had one arm hanging at his side, his shirtsleeve rolled up, holding his violin, of which I could see only the flower carved into the scroll. I stopped to examine it and thought how bizarre it was that this was actually him in the centuries-old painting. He hadn’t changed at all except that his hair was bit shorter and less rebellious. The defiant look in his eye was the same. His dark, austere, fearless gaze stared at me from the canvas, taking my breath away. I would have loved him back then too, I was sure of it.

“Does it frighten you?” Evan’s cautious tone startled me. Who knew how long he’d been watching me from the doorway.

“Not at all,” I reassured him. “I wish I’d known you then,” I admitted.

Unexpectedly, my answer made him laugh. “I brought you some dry clothes.” He came into the room and laid them on the bed.

“I imagine I have Ginevra to thank for these.”

“I’ll wait for you outside so you can change.”

The gallantry of his words, no matter how forced, reminded me that this was the same Evan who’d posed for that portrait three centuries ago.

“Evan,” I said, causing him to pause in the doorway. “After your—” I searched for an alternative to the word
death
. “After your transformation, your appearance didn’t change. I was wondering if the rest stayed the same too,” I mumbled, awkwardly trying to make myself understood—though at the same time I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted him to realize what I was getting at.

“That depends. What do you mean, exactly? What is it you want to know?”

Why the hell did he always have to be so direct?

“Um, well, I was wondering if—compared to when you were human—I mean, if an Angel can—” Could I manage to make him understand? I wasn’t so sure.

“If he can . . . ?” he prompted, though the smile he was trying to hide spoke volumes.

“If he can still feel the same emotions, act like a human. I was wondering if your sensations have stayed the same like your body.”

He came over and sat down beside me, never moving his eyes from mine. “I can’t feel human emotions any more, Gemma.”

The disappointment on my face made him smile. I’d felt his desire growing along with mine day after day, but maybe I’d been completely wrong. Maybe it had just been a reflection of my desire for him, a delusion. Was that what he was trying to tell me? “I thought—so you’ll never feel what I feel when I’m with you,” I murmured sadly. There was no point in asking him. A bitterness that I tried unsuccessfully to hide rose in my throat. I’d been fooling myself.

“I can’t feel the same emotions I did when I was human,” he continued, looking at me intently, “but only because the ones I feel now are much stronger.”