Embrace the Night (36 page)

"Sarah, come home with me."

She started to refuse, angry that he would think she was the kind of woman who would sleep with a man she hardly knew. For, even though he hadn't said the words, she knew that was what he was asking.

Because she wanted it, too.

He stood up, his eyes burning into hers, his stance almost arrogant, but she knew now that he was vulnerable, needy. Hurting. And in that same instant, she knew that he hadn't meant to insult her at all, that he wasn't the type of man to take a woman to bed unless he loved her… but that was impossible. How could he love her?

How could she love him?

And then he put out his hand in silent invitation.

And she stood up and placed her hand in his.

And he felt the darkness evaporate from his soul.

And she felt the loneliness in her heart take wing.

No words were needed now. With a muffled cry, he swept her into his arms and carried her home.

This can't be happening, Sarah thought. She'd never slept with any man except her husband. She had married David right out of high school. He was the first man she had ever known, the only man she had ever wanted. Until now.

Strangely, she didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt or doubt as Gabriel carried her up the winding staircase to the pale pink bedroom.

Very gently, he placed her on her feet, and then he kissed her. And kissed her again. She quivered with anticipation as she felt his hands feather over her shoulders, down her back. His tongue slid over her lower lip and she opened for him instantly, her tongue mating with his. He tasted of wine, and she thought how appropriate that was, for his kisses were intoxicating.

Still kissing, they undressed each other, and then he swept her into his arms and carried her to bed. She drew him down beside her, not wanting to be parted from him for even a moment. His skin was firm and cool beneath her questing fingertips; his mouth was hot as it moved over her. A low groan escaped his lips as his tongue laved her neck, lingering over the rapidly beating pulse in her throat.

"Gabriel… Gabriel…" She moaned his name as his hands caressed her, bringing her body to full, vibrant life. She needed him, wanted him, as she had never wanted anything else.

With bold abandon, her hands explored the broad expanse of his back and chest; her fingertips traced the taut muscles in his arms. She marveled at the strength that lay dormant beneath her hands, the power he held in tight control as if
he
were afraid of hurting her.

But she wanted all of him, and she urged him on, nipping at his ear lobe, caressing him, begging him to take her.

And he did. Like a dark angel, he rose over her, his long black hair falling over his shoulders, his whole body quivering as he possessed her.

She gasped as his flesh joined hers. David had always been a gentle lover. Never demanding, often hesitant, he had frequently let her be in control. But there was no hesitation on Gabriel's part. He took her as if she belonged to him, as if it were his right. He made love to her masterfully, skillfully, powerfully, and she gloried in it. Never had she felt more fragile, more feminine, more desired.

She closed her eyes in complete surrender, her heart and soul and mind bound to his…

She was in a blue bedroom, reclining on a blue and rose quilt. Heavy blue drapes hung at the window. Candlelight flickered on the walls. And Gabriel rose above her, whispering words of love to her in French and Italian. Only it wasn't her, she thought, confused. And yet, it
was
her. She could hear his voice, touch his skin, smell the sweat of their combined bodies. His hair was like a dark cloud, his eyes turbulent, like the sky before a storm
.

His eyes… surely it was a trick of the candlelight that caused them to glow like a bloodred flame…

Sarah opened her eyes, frightened by the images playing in her mind. And Gabriel was there, his dark gray eyes blazing, glowing. Surely it was only a trick of the light, she told herself, and then there was no more time for thought. Ecstasy spiraled through her and she cried his name, her nails clawing his back and shoulders as their bodies merged in perfect unison, the one giving pleasure to the other and finding pleasure in the giving.

Gabriel turned his face away, not wanting her to see the blood-lust that was surely glowing in his eyes. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to contain the hunger that seethed within him, to keep from satisfying his lust for blood as he satisfied his lust for her flesh.

And yet it wasn't lust. He had loved this woman in another lifetime. He loved her now. And he would never let her go.

"Gabriel?"

He took a deep breath and then he turned on his side, drawing her with him, his arms wrapped around her, protectively, possessively.

"Cara?"

Cara
. That was what he had called the girl in the blue bedroom. The girl whose emotions and desires Sarah had felt as though they were her own.

Gabriel gazed into Sarah's eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know. I…"

"What is it?"

"I don't know how to explain it," she said, frowning. "But when we were making love, I had the strangest feeling that I was someone else. That
we
were somewhere else."

Gabriel swore under his breath. For a moment, his mind had gone back in time, and he had imagined it was Sara Jayne in his arms. But how had Sarah known that?

"And you…"

A muscle worked in Gabriel's jaw. "What about me?"

"I don't know. You were different somehow. Your eyes…" She raised up on one elbow and gazed at him intently, then shook her head. "Never mind."

Gently, he brushed a wisp of hair from her brow, then pulled her down beside him once again.

"Gabriel?"

"Hmmmm?"

"I think I'm falling in love with you." She bit down on her lip when he didn't say anything. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, Sarah, I don't mind."

She waited, hoping he would tell her he loved her, too, or at least say that he cared, but he only gazed at her, his gray eyes dark with desire. But, deeper than the glow of passion, she saw another emotion blazing in his eyes, one she didn't recognize.

She tried to decipher it, but it was quickly gone, and then he was making love to her again, tenderly this time, carrying her away with him to heights she had never scaled, depths she had never plumbed, ecstasies she had never imagined.

And there, in the midst of rapture beyond anything she had ever dreamed of, she glimpsed the true depths of Gabriel's loneliness, his emptiness, his need to be held, to be loved.

Tears burned her eyes as her soul merged with his. With a sob, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding his body close even as she whispered that she loved him, that she would always love him, that he would never be alone again.

And then they came together, hearts and bodies blending together, their tears mingling as they found that one moment of shared perfection that carried them beyond the bounds of time and space.

And for her there was fulfillment and a sense of peace.

And for him there was light and hope and a sense of coming home after a long dark journey.

With a sigh of contentment, she fell asleep in his arms.

He held her throughout the night, his body warmed by her nearness, his fingers threading through the silky softness of her hair, caressing the curve of her shoulder, the side of her breast.

She dreamed of him, and he knew her dreams. They were Sara's dreams, parts of Sara's life. But only the good parts.

He held her until dawn crept over the horizon.

Leaving the bed, he covered her with the quilt, kissed her lips, then gathered up his clothes and left the room.

Never had the cellar seemed so cold, so empty. Never had the hours until dusk seemed so far away.

As he settled down to take his rest, his last thought was of Sarah. Her scent clung to him; the taste of her lingered on his tongue. In his mind's eye, he saw her sleeping in the bedroom above, her lips swollen from his kisses, her hair spread over the pillow like a splash of molten gold.

"Sarah." He whispered her name as the darkness closed in on him, dragging him down into oblivion.

It was late morning when she woke. Filled with a sense of well-being, she stretched, then sat up, wondering where Gabriel was.

Rising, she took a quick shower, and then, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, she padded downstairs.

"Gabriel?"

She frowned, her confusion growing as she went from room to room. Except for the bedroom they had shared and the front parlor, none of the rooms were furnished. There was no table in the kitchen, no chairs, though there was food in the fridge.

But her curiosity was stronger than her appetite. She retraced her steps, staring, perplexed, into each room. He'd said he'd lived here for a few months. Surely a man who drove a $70,000 sports car could afford to buy a few pieces of furniture.

She couldn't shake off the feeling that the only room that had ever been lived in was the parlor. Nor could she shake the feeling that Gabriel was here, somewhere in the house. But if that was true, why didn't he answer her?

"Gabriel?" She stood in the hallway, her hands clutching the towel. "Gabriel! This isn't funny."

With a sigh of exasperation, she went upstairs. She was about to put on the clothes she'd worn the day before when her gaze fell on the wardrobe.

You'll find clothes in the armoire
, he'd said.

She hesitated a moment, then opened the doors, her eyes widening with wonder. There were dresses, blouses and sweaters, jeans and slacks, pumps and sandals, all obviously selected with her likes and dislikes in mind. She shook her head in amazement. She'd never owned this many clothes in her whole life.

It took her twenty minutes to decide on a pair of black pants and a lavender sweater. Barefoot, she went back down to the kitchen and fixed herself a cup of coffee.

Where was he?

It was then she noticed the narrow door. Painted the same color as the kitchen and tucked into a corner, it was almost invisible.

Setting her coffee cup on the sink top, she crossed the room and opened the door to discover a short flight of stairs, and another door at the bottom.

"Curiouser and curiouser," she murmured. And feeling like Alice in Wonderland, she made her way down the steps, her hand reaching for the doorknob.

It was locked. She looked around for a key, ran her hand along the top of the lintel. Nothing.

Sarah exhaled softly. Did the door lead to the garage? A basement? Into the garden?

She rested her hand on the door for a moment. The wood, a dark oak, felt smooth and cool beneath her fingertips.

Images flashed through her mind, images of a small cottage, of a broken window, of narrow stone steps, of another door also made of oak. A door that led to a damp cellar.

And she heard Gabriel's voice, filled with warning.
Be gone
!

With a start, she jerked her hand from the door and took a step backward. She hadn't imagined that voice. It had been real. Gabriel's voice.

Overcome with a sudden sense of foreboding, she turned on her heel and ran up the stairs, slamming the kitchen door behind her.

She ran through the kitchen, down the hall, through the parlor, and didn't stop running until she was outside in the driveway. Only then did she remember that her car was parked in the garage at home.

Breathing heavily, she ran down the long, winding driveway to the main gate. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes when she realized it was locked, and then, as if by magic, the iron gate swung open and she ran outside. She heard the gate slam shut behind her, but she didn't turn around, just kept running, driven by sheer terror.

He rose at dusk, his steps heavy as he climbed the stairs.

She was gone, and it was just as well.

He repeated those words over and over again in the next few nights—nights spent staring into the fireplace, or riding Necromancer. Sometimes he sat in the bedroom remembering, until his need for her became too painful. At those limes, he went out into the night to walk the lonely streets. No one saw him. Moving with preternatural speed, he moved from one end of the city to the other, his presence no more than a breath of cool air to those he passed by.

Anger aroused the urge to hunt, to kill, but he refused to do so. He fed only when absolutely necessary, taking only enough to sustain his existence but never enough to quench his thirst, punishing himself with the hunger because it was easier to be tormented by the lust for blood than by his constant need for Sarah.

A week passed, and his anger grew, and with it the knowledge that he could take her at any time.

He was a vampire, after all. He could hypnotize her so that he could make love to her whenever he pleased. Then he would have only to summon her with the power of his mind, and she would be compelled to come to him from wherever she might be, warm and willing, unable to resist.

He could initiate her, and in that state she would do anything he wished. Anything. She would be miserable when they were apart. She would find prey for him, kill for him, worship him if he so desired.

Or he could force the Dark Gift upon her, and keep her by his side for eternity.

But he could not make her love him.

And that knowledge filled him with rage.

And it was that rage, finally, that drove him to her door.

Sarah sat in a corner of the couch, comfortably wrapped in a blanket, watching an old rerun of the Dick Van Dyke show. She'd seen this particular episode at least a half-dozen times, but for some reason she never tired of it.

When it was over, she turned to the country music channel, her thoughts drifting toward Gabriel. Always Gabriel, she thought, annoyed. She hardly knew the man, yet she couldn't forget him. He was ever in her thoughts, her dreams. Her nightmares. Deep down, she had the feeling that she was going slowly insane. Surely that was the only explanation for the dreams she'd been having. Sometimes she dreamed she was in England, other times in France. She spoke French in those dreams. She danced. She made love to Gabriel. Only it wasn't really her, but another woman, one with blond hair and blue eyes.