by Молли Харпер
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Valentine’s Day was not something we recognized in my day.”
I poked him in the chest. “First of all, yes, it was. Lacy cards and love tokens were widely exchanged even in Victorian times. By now, you should know better than to screw with me on historical trivia. Also, you’ve had one-hundred-forty-something years to adjust. Get with the program. You didn’t notice the giant hearts and paper cupids hanging off every stationary object?”
“I’ve never dated a modern woman before.”
I poked him again. “You can only use that as an excuse so many times. And don’t offer to give me ‘awesome sex’ as a present, because I think we’ve established that given the right circumstances, I can hurt you.”
“I wasn’t going to—” I narrowed my eyes at him. Instead of finishing that ill-fated protest, he said, “Let’s focus on the creepy anonymous gifts.”
“You don’t say ‘creepy.’ Don’t try to get in good with me by talking like me. I just don’t understand how someone could select a pitch-perfect girlfriend Christmas gift and then completely ignore Valentine’s Day.”
“Well, what did you get me?”
“You will never, ever know,” I promised him. And he wouldn’t. Because now that I’d made such a big deal about it, boxer shorts with little glow-in-the-dark vampire lips and fangs all over them didn’t seem that great.
“Let me see the gifts you did get,” he said. “You were going to show me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Not now I’m not.”
“Jane.”
“Fine.” I slid the straps off my shoulders and let the dress pool at my feet. Gabriel’s eyes went wide as he scanned me from head to toe. “Gabriel?”
“Give me a moment. All of the blood just drained out of my head.”
“I find this whole thing to be incredibly gross now that I know I’m wearing some stranger’s undies.” I shuddered and shrugged out of the suddenly disturbing get-up.
And now I was naked and embarrassed, which was a sensation I was much more familiar with. The phone rang.
“Saved by the bell,” he muttered.
“If we had time, I’d tell you about that figure of speech’s origins in connection to gravedigging, but I’m not going to,” I said, picking up the phone. “No gift means no trivia.”
“And yet somehow I think I’ll survive,” Gabriel groused.
I gave him a meaningful look as I barked a greeting into the phone. A sly female voice asked, “Did you like the presents?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Andrea.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded hurt.
“Hi. I don’t—I can’t talk right now,” I whispered. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at the stress in my voice, and language that, after I thought about it, sounded awfully suspicious. “I’ll call you later.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
I turned away from Gabriel and tried to lower my voice even further, but let’s face it, my boyfriend had superhearing.
“I can’t really explain. Let’s just say the words ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ are probably going to make my eye spontaneously twitch for years to come,” I grumbled as Gabriel stared at me, his expression annoyed and somehow helpless.
“What happened?” Andrea cried.
“I don’t want to talk now,” I told her through gritted fangs as Gabriel took a subtle but deliberate step toward me, his ear cocked toward the phone. I shot him a venomous look and started into the next room.
“But I left that package on your front porch to help things along. Seriously, that outfit was flawless, practically a foolproof recipe for the perfect first Valentine’s Day as a couple.
How could you screw this up?” Andrea cried, using that tone my mama used when I’d butchered a recipe.
“That was you?” I demanded, keeping my voice low. “What—why? Wh—you and I are going to have to have a serious discussion about boundaries. What the hell were you thinking?”
Her voice lowered to a slightly more contrite level. “Well, I’ve known Gabriel for a while, and he’s just not the type of guy who puts a lot of stock in relationship milestones like a first Valentine’s Day. I knew you would freak out and read a lot into it if it looked as if he forgot. And I knew he wouldn’t ask for help or accept advice on what to get you, so I thought I’d help you out. I thought he’d be so thunderstruck at the sight of you in simply stunning underwear that you wouldn’t have time to talk about where it came from.”
If she wasn’t so depressingly right, it would really piss me off that Andrea had managed to figure out my relationship before I did. No, wait, I was pissed anyway.
“We have got to get you dating again, because you clearly have too much time on your hands,” I told her. “This is not normal behavior.”
“It’s very normal behavior to want your friend to have a nice Valentine’s Day. What’s not normal is you somehow turning this into some Jane disaster. Hell, even your grandma Ruthie knows to buy lingerie on Valentine’s Day. I saw her at Victoria’s Secret the other night. She said she was getting something special for her fiancé. I thought her fiancé died.”
“Oh, my God, why are you making this worse?” I cried. I didn’t know whom I felt more sorry for at that point, myself or poor, unsuspecting Wilbur. “I do not need that image in my head. And as much as I appreciate your intentions, don’t ever do this again. It’s weird.
Wait, wait, if you thought we would be all naked and blissful by now, why are you calling?” I asked, ignoring the way Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up at that comment.
“Well, even vampires have a recovery period.”
I scrunched my nose. “Ew. That’s a conversation ender. I’ll call you later.” I hung up the phone and turned on Gabriel. “I’m going to take a shower. Maybe you shouldn’t be here when I get out.”
Leaving a trail of discarded lingerie in my wake, I stomped toward the bathroom. I turned the water to the white-hot range, slid into the shower, and fought back tears. Oh, how was I mortified? Let me count the ways. One, I put on strange underwear collected from my doorstep without knowing whom it was from or what they could have done to it. Two, my boyfriend blew off Valentine’s Day. Three, my girlfriend was so sure this might happen (and rightly so) that she provided me with a pity present to get me laid. Four, I had images of a teddy-clad Grandma Ruthie doing some sort of fan dance in my head. And five, my boyfriend blew off Valentine’s Day.
I thought that bore repeating.
I soaped my hair, deliberately avoiding the almond-scented antifrizz shampoo Gabriel liked in favor of plain old Pantene. I heard the bathroom door open. Gabriel came in and sat on the bathroom counter.
“Jane, we’ve talked about this,” he said softly. “I’m your sire and your lover. My bond to you is very strong. I won’t share you with another man, even if he does have impeccable taste in lingerie.”
That was sort of a confession of love, right?
I snapped the shower curtain open, glaring at him through the soap bubbles slipping down my face. “Why is it that your first assumption is that it’s another man? What about me makes you think I would cheat on you?” Then I snapped the curtain closed.
Somehow, his voice lowered even further, his tone worn thin. “I don’t know if I can make you happy, Jane. That makes me sick inside. I see the regrets you have. I see the longing in your eyes when you talk about your life before, the things you miss. I don’t know if I’m good for you. There are times when I wonder if you’re really happy as a vampire, whether you wish I’d never met you that night. If some part of you would be happier as a human.”
This time, I slung the curtain so hard the rings popped off the curtain rod. “Well, of course, some part of me would be happier as a human, you dumbass!” I yelled. “For one thing, I wouldn’t spontaneously combust when I wanted to, say, take a walk before sunset. I wouldn’t have to put up with my mother’s undead denial issues. I wouldn’t have to worry about people shrinki
ng away every time I walk into a room. And I’d be able to eat. I haven’t eaten in months, do you realize that? No carbs, no fats, no chocolate.
Nothing! I mean, do you know what it’s like for someone like me, not being able to get chocolate?”
Gabriel was obviously unprepared for the level of anger (or volume) in this wet, naked outburst. Looking slightly dazed, he closed what was left of the curtain. He was barely audible over the sound of the shower spray. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so miserable.”
“I’m not. I’m not miserable. But I’m not completely happy as a vampire. And it’s not fair for you to expect me to be. If you want a real, honest relationship, I can’t put on a happy fanged face for you. Were you thrilled with your new life after you were turned?”
“No, but my family did tie me naked to a tree to wait for the sunrise,” he pointed out calmly. “We’re straying from the point.”
I stuck my head under the rapidly cooling spray. “Which is?”
“That another man is sending you underwear.”
I could let him keep wondering, I mused, rolling my eyes. I could let Gabriel think I had a secret admirer, make him jealous. After weeks of wondering where he was, what he was doing, whom he was with, he deserved it. But I’d never been that girl, the game player, the girlfriend who played by asinine “rules” laid out in the self-help book of the week. And even though it would probably make me feel better, I don’t think Gabriel pushing a tree on top of some poor guy he suspected of being my suitor would help our relationship.
“It wasn’t another man,” I huffed. “It was Andrea.”
There was a heavy silence on the other side of the curtain. “Er … that wasn’t something I was prepared for. I thought maybe it was Zeb.”
“Ew!” I cried.
“Well, he’s been acting so strange lately,” Gabriel protested. “And I don’t see how Andrea giving you sexy underthings is any less disturbing. I don’t think anyone should be buying you sexy underthings but me.”
“Well, you didn’t.” I cut the water off and snapped the curtain open. I pushed past him and snatched a towel. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to eye level with him. “Andrea felt the need to step in for you. Instead of assuming the worst, you could just talk to me, Gabriel,” I said as he followed me into my bedroom. I yanked open a dresser drawer and pulled out my flannel cow pajamas.
“Not the cow pajamas, Jane, please, there’s no reason to let this ruin our evening,” hegroaned. “I’m sorry.”
“Beg pardon?” I asked, cupping my hand around my ear. “What was that?”
“You heard me,” he grumbled. “With our hearing, it’s impossible for you not to have heard me.”
“No, I don’t believe I did,” I said. “Because I’m sure the Master of Poise could not possibly have just apologized to little old me.”
“Smugness is not attractive on you, Jane.”
“Smugness is one of my best features,” I retorted, backing him against the footboard of my bed. “I’m really, really good at it.”
“I’ve noticed,” he muttered, nuzzling his nose along my jawline. Laughing, he slipped his hand through my hair and kissed my temple.
I shrugged him off. “Hey, I’m still mad at you, Valentine’s Day skipper. You are going to be punished. And not in the fun way.”
“I acquiesce to your demands,” he said solemnly. He nodded at my bovine sleepwear.
“Now, I think you should take this off.”
I snorted. “Not going to happen, my friend.”
And it didn’t. Instead of hot Valentine’s Day sex, I made Gabriel paint my toes lavender (he has incredibly steady hands) while we watched the most dreaded of all chick flicks, Sleepless in Seattle. I would say he learned his lesson, but I caught him wiping at his eyes toward the end.
“Are you crying?” I asked.
“No!” he exclaimed. I snickered and patted his shoulder. “It’s just, it was so unlikely, the two of them showing up at the Empire State Building at the same time after missing each other so often. And—”
“Do you want to sleep over?” I asked suddenly.
“Will I have to sleep on the couch?”
“No, you can sleep in the guest room,” I said sweetly as I secured the blackout curtains.
“I’d rather make a run for my house,” he muttered.
I pulled back the comforter for him. “Fine.”
He grinned and stripped down to his slacks. As a habit, Gabriel didn’t wear underwear. I guess he wasn’t feeling secure enough in my good humor to sleep in the nude. He fluffed the pillows on both sides of the bed and flopped down in giddy anticipation.
“What’s with you?”
“I’m just excited,” he said, grinning.
I rolled my eyes as I reached for the bedside lamp. “Just for the record, this is my first coed sleepover since Zeb and I were in fifth grade. And even then, Mama made Zeb sleep on a different floor of the house. I am the spoonee, by the way. You are the spooner.”
“I don’t spoon,” Gabriel said.
“Well, you do now,” I told him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You don’t snore, do you?”
“I don’t breathe.”
“Good point.”
It was nice to know that our bodies still fit together perfectly outside the sexual arena.
Gabriel rested his head on my shoulder, drawing my back against his chest and his knees under my knees. We lay in silence, and I burst out laughing.
“What?” Gabriel asked. “Am I not doing the spooning right?”
“No, it’s great.” I giggled. “But sunrise is not for another four hours. We’re basically going to bed at the equivalent of two P.M. We’ve officially become the least interesting people we know. And considering that we drink blood and burst into flame when we tan, that’s sort of sad.”
“You’re saying the magic’s gone,” Gabriel said.
“Yep.”
“Well, it was nice while it lasted.” Gabriel released me and started climbing out of bed.
“I’ll be going now.”
“OK, well, keep in touch.” I clasped his hand. “It was nice knowing you.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
I yanked his hand, forcing him back into the bed and rolling over me. He kissed me to show me exactly how boring we were.
“I’m sorry I ruined your Valentine’s Day,” he murmured against my neck, his voice soft on my skin. “I didn’t know it was so important to you.”
“Well, you do now. You’ve been put on notice.”
“I’m glad we’re sleeping together,” he said.
“Of course you are,” I snorted. “You have a Y chromosome.”
“I mean sleeping, as in resting,” he said, pulling me flush against him. “It’s very intimate.”
“I never should have let you watch Sleepless in Seattle,” I moaned. “I’ve ruined you.”
Gabriel did not snore. Nor did he squirm around or steal covers, which made him a far more considerate bedmate than Fitz. At dusk, I could feel the sun fading as I rolled against the contours of his side. It was sweet to wake up next to him, to see his face relaxed and his mouth hanging open. Everything was still, quiet.
I slipped my hand around his back and snuggled my face into his neck. It was oddly cool. I inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the scent of sleep on his skin, soft and clean and sweet.
I closed my eyes and swallowed against the rising sensation in my chest, a mixture of happiness that I’d finally arrived at this place in my life and fear that it would be over soon. I was even less experienced at long-term relationships than I was at decent sex. And what did I really know about either? Pledging your eternal love took on a whole new meaning when you actually lived forever.
What if Gabriel got bored with me? What if he woke up in both senses of the word and realized that I was really the same boring librarian under the fancy new fangs? What if Jeanine was the last vampire girl he’d cast off? Or worse yet, the vampire
girl he was planning to be with once he’d cast me off?
These were heavy thoughts to have at vampire dawn. The noise of the gears turning in my head must have jarred Gabriel awake, because he stirred next to me, pulling on the front of my cow pajamas until I was flush against his chest.
“Morning,” he rumbled.
“Morning,” I whispered into his neck. “You sleep with your mouth open.”
“I learn something new from you every day,” he murmured, kissing my temple and stroking my back. He pulled me under him. I felt boneless, liquid, more relaxed than I’d been in weeks. I belonged here. I was wanted. I didn’t even worry about morning breath when Gabriel pressed his lips to mine, because, technically, neither of us had breath at any time of day.
The remnants of my unhappy thoughts still haunting me, I took the time to run my fingertips along his long, sinewy limbs, his smooth, pale skin. I cupped my palms around his cheeks, lazily tracing the line of his bottom lip with my thumb. I was almost beyond caring when Gabriel peeled my pajama top over my head.
“I hate these pajamas,” he muttered, tossing them over the edge of the bed. “The pajamas must go.”
“The pajamas stay,” I told him. He arched his eyebrows, making me giggle. “Well, not at the moment, obviously.”
He snickered, pushing the bottoms down to my ankles with his feet. He tucked his fingers between my hips and the waistband of my panties and tugged. The cotton buckled and tore, landing in a frayed heap next to my pajamas.
“What do you have against my panties?” I moaned, mourning the loss of yet another pair.
He smirked, casting a glance to where he was brushing against my wet, willing flesh.
“Well, I think that should have been fairly obvious.”
I was still laughing when he slipped inside me. I stretched my arms above my head, gripping the headboard as he trailed kisses down my chest, increasing his pace. The deeper he drove, the tighter I held on, until I ripped the wood spokes out of the frame. I gasped, horrified at what I’d done to a family heirloom. And then I just gasped, lost in the waves of sensation that threatened to drag me under.
When I came to, I still had the hunks of wood clutched in my hands. Gabriel looked vaguely guilty.