He wanted to do that again.
Watch. Guide. Protect.
Sara was standing directly behind him, having abandoned her hiding place behind the tomb. She stared at him in wonder, eyes wide, cheeks pale, mouth open.
“What happened?” she asked.
“They’re dead,” he said, hoping that she could handle that reality. It had been necessary.
“Dead?” she whispered, her voice a little shaky and she glanced down at the bodies. “How? And where’s the flashlight? I can’t really see anything.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Gabriel searched around on the ground and found the flashlight where he had dropped it, the beam pointing in the opposite direction of Sara. He went to her and put it in her hand, squeezing her gently. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“How do you know they’re dead?” she asked, pointing them light directly on to Raphael and Marguerite.
How could he ever explain what he was and what he could do? There were no answers, no explanation, no human words. Gabriel just knew. “Their mortal bodies are dead. But their souls still exist inside these bodies… it’s an imprisonment, which is exactly what they deserve.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I have to dispose of them. Maybe you should leave. I don’t have time to take you home though. I have to do this before the cops get here.” He was surprised they hadn’t already shown up, given the lights and the noise they had been making. But the cemetery butted up to housing projects, the residents of which probably had no interest in getting involved in any potential crime and hadn’t bothered to call the police.
Gabriel turned and opened the gate to Anne’s tomb without waiting for Sara’s answer. He didn’t want to scare her, but he didn’t want to get caught with dead bodies either. It was highly doubtful he’d be acquitted this time around. Stepping inside, he removed the front of Anne’s tomb and opened the drawer.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sara asked, coming up behind him.
“I have to hide them, and this is actually a perfect place.” Reaching into the darkness, Gabriel extracted the sack that held Anne’s ashes and set them carefully on the path outside the gate.
Sara just stood there as he went over and lifted both Marguerite and Raphael up and carried them to the tomb. Gabriel felt terrible that she was watching, and he said, “Sara, close your eyes, babe. This isn’t going to be pretty.”
But she just shook her head. “No, I have to see. And did you know–though I’m sure you know–that when the Watchers fell, God sent the four archangels to retrieve them? Raphael bound one of them hand and foot. Gabriel destroyed some of the fallen ones by inciting them to civil war. And Michael put others in a dark cave for 70 generations. A dark cave… like this tomb.”
Gabriel shoved Raphael into the dark opening, sweat rolling down the back of his t-shirt even as he felt a chill at Sara’s words. “I’m not an archangel. I’m a fallen one.”
“But you’re righting a wrong… destroying fallen ones who were well and truly evil. And I don’t think it’s any sort of coincidence that you and Raphael were named after two of the archangels. And that my last name is the name of the third.”
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence either,” he conceded, crossing Raphael’s legs at the ankles. It would be a hell of a lot easier getting him in the tomb in a casket, but he had to make do, and as quickly as possible. Gabriel got the body fully into the hole and did the same with Marguerite.
Out of breath, he turned back to Sara. She was standing there, the flashlight slack in her hand, the beam bouncing around the ground, her face pale, eyes wide. “Gabriel. I have to close it with you. It’s you and I. We’re the ones who had to end this… Gabriel St. John and Sara Michaels.”
“I don’t think…” he started, not wanting her to be a part of what he was doing. Not wanting to burden her or give her further grief, or any sort of guilt. But then he trailed off when she stepped through the gate and looked up at him. She was tenacious, determined.
She was right. They needed to do this together. It made sense, brought the past to the present full circle and ended what had started all those years ago in that nasty room on Dauphine.
He nodded. “Okay.”
Her hand went over his, and they both closed the door, pushing hard. Then Gabriel sealed it shut.
The explosion sent him hurtling through the gate and crashing onto the path flat on his back. It knocked the wind out of him and he blinked, startled, not sure what exactly had happened. His head spun he tried to sit up and he quickly descended again, searching in the dark for Sara. “Sara? Are you okay?”
“Gabriel!” Sara knelt down beside him, hands brushing his hair off his face. “I’m fine. Nothing happened to me. You got hit with… something, and it sent you flying. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Though he felt strange. Weak. Gabriel sat up quickly and almost threw up, intense nausea rolling over him.
“Sara…” He looked at her, looked around him, moved his legs, tested his fingers. He was fine, but he felt different. Mortal. Jesus Christ, he felt mortal. That’s exactly what he felt like. “Oh my God…”
“What?” She was groping all over his shoulders and pushing his hair back, checking his temples, and sliding her hands over his chest. “What hurts? You’re not bleeding.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fine.” He was better than fine. He was mortal, a human, like everyone else. Like Sara. Free from his punishment, freed from eternity. He looked over at her, excited, relieved, stunned. “It’s over. I’m free.”
She just blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
Gabriel stood up and dusted off his jeans, feeling a huge sense of wonder, of clarity, of hope, of awe. “I mean that I’m no longer fallen. Nor am I an angel. I’m mortal.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How do you know?”
“I know.” How could he explain the difference? It was like the world around him had dimmed, that his limbs had gotten heavier, the visual chaos had cleared, the sound of humanity quiet, less deafening. And at the same time, without all the sensory overload, his mind felt clearer, stronger, acute, and he was conscious suddenly of ticking time and the finiteness of life and love and talent. He had a focus he didn’t remember ever really having before.
She put her hands up to her face. “Are you sure?” There was a tremble in her voice.
“Yes. I’m positive.” He leaned over, brushed his lips over her forehead, wanting to linger, to savor the feeling, her, but knowing they couldn’t. “We have to leave now.”
She just nodded as he walked over to Anne’s tomb and pulled the gate shut. Then he picked up the bag of ashes and secured it under his arm.
“Gabriel, look at the angel,” Sara said, her voice low and in awe.
Turning, he followed her gaze, looking up and over his shoulder. The weeping angel statue on top of Anne’s tomb had two red streaks trailing down her cheeks. Blood tears. It should have looked gruesome, but he didn’t sense that was its intent.
“In Him we have redemption, through His blood, the forgiveness of sins,” he murmured, as he felt the weight of guilt lift, the light of forgiveness wash over him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sara stood in Gabriel’s living room as he closed the door behind them. He said he was mortal. How was that possible? How was it possible that he had ever been anything but? She felt the tightness of tears in her eyes, not of sadness or of happiness, but of emotional confusion, of uncertainty.
Where did they go from here?
But then he set Anne’s ashes down on the piano and turned to her.
The look on his face made her forget any questions she had, any fears or worries she had been about to voice. He was staring at her, intensely, but with a peace, a calm, a relief, that she had never seen from him.
She stood still as he walked up to her, sensing that he was going to touch her.
He did.
His hands touched her shoulders, h
is thumbs brushing her hair back, before he slid up her neck, to her jaw, her chin, then cupped her cheeks in both of his hands. Sara closed her eyes, sighing at the pleasure of his warmth so close to her, his long fingers and masculine hands holding her so gently, as if she were precious.
“I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her. “As a man.”
Sara shivered, her arousal immediate and powerful. He was going to touch her. Something she thought she would never have. Her knees actually trembled and she reached out to wrap her arms around him, to mold their bodies together, but he pushed her hands down by her side.
“Just let me feel you for a minute,” he said, his nose brushing over her cheek, his lips tasting the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes drifted closed again and she stood still, overwhelmed by the simple pleasure of his exploratory kiss, his hands caressing her hair, her neck, her clavicle bone. His legs surrounded hers and his waist, erection, brushed against her but shifted and moved, never coming in full contact, a soft whisper of what to expect, but a reminder that this needed to happen slowly.
Then his mouth was on hers, in a slow, devotional kiss that took her breath away. Sara sighed, her fingers reaching out and grasping the belt loops of his jeans so she wouldn’t stumble. It felt so good, so pure, so warm and lovely and sensual, to finally feel his mouth again, to taste his lips and know that he was hers. He kissed her again and again, with no hurry, with no destination in mind, but with slow and easy and worshipful presses that had her breath catching, her body aching.
“Gabriel,” she whispered.
His eyes were bright and shiny, a rich chocolate brown, as they trailed all over her face, as if he were memorizing her features. His fingers followed his gaze, chin to jaw to cheekbone, lingering on her bottom lip, slipping into the divot above her top lip. He tucked her unruly hair behind her ears, even touching the lobes briefly before brushing the backs of his thumbs over her eyelashes.
The warmth of his breath, the feel of his chest just barely touching hers, his fingers exploring, left her trembling, wanting more, all of him, yet at the same time, ultimately satisfied. She was getting more than she had ever expected Gabriel would be able to give, and she felt it, understood it. Knew that connection people talked about, that feeling she had waited for and had never experienced until him, that conviction that the two of them were destined to be together, their feelings strong and amazing and deep.
That they had seen each other’s soul and found where they belonged.
“You feel so good,” he murmured. “Sara.”
She had never thought her name was anything particularly special, but when he said it, when his deep voice washed over her with such devotion, such respect, such longing, she thought she would never get tired of hearing it.
And when his forehead rested briefly on hers, his hand cupping the back of her neck, she sighed again. Her body was impatient, wanting more, but at the same time she wanted the moment to stretch and last, to make up for all the weeks of being without him.
Gabriel kissed her, a press, then a pull back, again and again, quick but passionate touches that tossed over her earlier conviction. She did want more. The kisses were so intense, so teasing, so fleeting, so filled with intensity, and she tried to hold them, tried to take more, but he pulled back over and over. Her breathing hitched, her inner thighs ached, her nipples tightened painfully against her t-shirt. She clung to his jeans, her grip tightening, and she gave up trying to follow his mouth.
His hands went everywhere, lingering briefly with the barest of touches on her neck, her head, her back, her waist, while he took her mouth so fully, so completely, that she lost track of time, lost track of anything but the possession of her lips by his. Her eyes couldn’t stay open, her head couldn’t stay up, as she gave herself up to being taken by him, slowly and tauntingly. Worshipfully.
When his tongue finally invaded her mouth and touched hers, she squeezed his waist, rocking back involuntarily at the pleasure. But again, he didn’t take hard and fast, but explored with a control that amazed her, that left her weak, clinging to him, body humming, heart full. She could feel his erection pressing against her, but he ignored it, never attempting to grind against her, his hands staying above her waist. His tongue took hers, mimicking sex until she thought she couldn’t take another second, not more one kiss or slide or suck.
He pulled entirely back, his eyes hot and dark. “You taste so good. I want to eat you,” he said, and leaned forward and nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth.
Sara sucked in a breath as the bite shot an ache of desire through her. “So eat me.”
“Oh, I will. But I’m going to take my time.” He ran his finger along the neckline of her t-shirt, then across her bottom lip. “I never thought I would have this, never thought I would have you. I want to enjoy you.”
She wanted to be enjoyed.
Sara reached out and buried her fingers in his soft hair and kissed him the way he had been kissing her, with love and longing and wonder, before pulling back.
He gave her a Gabriel smile, the kind where only the corner of his mouth tilted up, while his lips stayed together, like he had a private thought that amused and pleased him. “I love you,” he said, his mouth forming the words, but no sound coming out.
Sara felt the tears again, and she wondered why she fought them. There was no shame in her emotions, no reason to apologize for the intensity of what she felt, for the feeling that this was forever, that this man, this moment, had changed her life. That she was in love. Deeply and joyfully in love, and that was worth a tear or two.
So she let a drop slide down each cheek unencumbered as she studied Gabriel, the straight line of his jaw, the whiskers that had snuck up onto his chin in the last few hours. She couldn’t resist touching him, running her fingers over and down his cheekbones and his lips, before cupping his cheeks the way he had with her.
Gabriel kissed her, and Sara opened up for him, let him have everything she had to offer, let him taste her, let him feel and know that she was his.
His hands slipped lower, caressing her back as he tasted her, as their tongues tangled and she felt a hope, a happiness she had never expected to know. Because not only had she never loved any man like she did Gabriel, she had never been loved this way. Had never felt such adoration, such devotion, such true and pure love as she did from him, and the fact that he had lived for so many years only made it all that much sexier. It was like he had been waiting for her and she for him.
And just when she thought he intended to do nothing but kiss her indefinitely, he took the bottom of her t-shirt, pulled it up and over her head, and tossed it on the floor. Sara shivered from the sudden movement of air over her bare skin and from the immediate tickle of his fingertips over her shoulders and down to her elbows as he stroked her. He did that everywhere, just touching lightly, all over her arms, her stomach, her cleavage, acquainting himself with her feel, and Sara swallowed hard, pleased by his interest, his intensity, but tortured by it. Her body was tight and tense, impatient, wanting more, wanting to take him inside her. She gripped the hem of his shirt for balance and let her head fall back as Gabriel slid her bra straps over her shoulders, kissing her along the path he bared.
“You feel so good. You smell so good. Like cinnamon.” He licked her flesh, the tip of his tongue tripping off goosebumps on her shoulder.
“Body oil,” she said, though he probably didn’t need or want an answer. His tongue slid down, down, until he was tracing the swell of her breast above her bra.
“I’ve wanted to touch you since the moment I met you,” he said, his hair tickling her arm as he peeled down the front of her bra.
“What a coincidence. I’ve been wanting you to touch me since the moment I met you.” Sara sucked in her breath when his finger brushed her taut nipple. She was so tight, so eager, so ready for him.
He glanced up at her, his expression serious. “But you came back knowing I couldn
’t.”
She nodded. “Yes, I did.” And she would have stayed even if the outcome had been different.
His head dipped in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Sara moved her hands across his chest, enjoying the firm feel of him so close to her.
“For loving me like that.”
As if she deserved gratitude for that. “My pleasure.”
Her bra disappeared. And his answer was to cover her nipple with his mouth, to suck it and lick and pluck at it with his teeth. Sara moaned, feeling that tug all the down to her toes. Then she didn’t even have the ability to make sound because Gabriel was touching and kissing her everywhere. He moved from nipple to nipple, to neck, to mouth, plunging his tongue inside her and kissing her hard and fast, then soft and sweet. He kissed her chin, her nose, her eyelids, the insides of her elbows.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured. “I want to touch you everywhere.”
That worked for her. Sara buried her hands in his hair and held on, overwhelmed with desire, by his attention, his intensity. His fingers popped the snap on her jeans, and slid inside to cup her. She knew what he felt. Her panties were wet already, obviously so, and the way he pressed his finger into her softness confirmed that he knew exactly that little fact.
It was his fault for being so damn sexy and she moved her legs a little further apart, encouraging him to touch her. She craved that moment when he took her, when he was the force behind the thrust, when he took and possessed her body with his for what was truly the first time. She had taken him last time and he had let her.
Now she wanted him to make her his.
Gabriel had been enjoying taking his time, exploring and touching Sara everywhere. He felt like he had been granted a gift so amazing and beautiful and huge, that he needed to reassure himself that it was real. That she was real. That he was entitled to such happiness, such pleasure.
But when she thrust her hips forward toward him, the front of her panties damp with desire, Gabriel felt the urge to take what she was offering, to finally and truly have Sara the way he had wanted to from the beginning. There was no reason to hold back this time and he knew it. He felt the lust rising hot and fast, driving him to shove down her jeans as he dominated her mouth with his tongue.
Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 62