She guessed she still had a heart, because of the pain beating inside her. She pulled her feet to the bench, resting her head against her knees. Then she did something she hadn’t done since Dachau—she prayed. Dear Go—Dear You. Please heal Caitria. Then help her leave that son of a bitch—oh, sorry for the profanity.
She was quiet for a moment, before giving in to the urge to add, And please, take away this pain inside me. I’m so tired of hurting…Amen. She thought about what Gabe had said, and added, Or maybe that’s Awoman. Who knew anymore?
A sense of utter peace flowed through her, and she stayed there a long time, resting both body and spirit. She might have even dozed. A stirring of the air pulled her from her drifting state. The bench shifting jolted her fully alert. She looked over, and there he was.
“I got your message,” Gabe said.
Chapter 7
SHE drank in the sight of him, familiar and handsome in his brown leather jacket and khakis. She shouldn’t have been so glad to see him, but she was.
“How’s Caitria?” he asked. His voice was cool and impersonal, as if they were very casual acquaintances.
Rachel pushed away the regret and sense of loss. “Bad. She might not make it.”
“And you’re here instead of with her.” His eyes were as cool as his voice.
Guilt speared her. “ICU visiting hours are over. And she’s not even conscious.”
“Do you care for her, Rachel?”
She nodded, too tired to fight it anymore. She finally admitted the truth to herself—she considered Caitria a friend.
“Then it’s time to stop thinking only of yourself. Caitria needs you.” Gabe rose from the bench. “Come on.” He didn’t offer his hand or take her arm, nor did he slow his steps for her.
They rode the elevator up in distant silence. Then Gabe strode to the ICU doors, supposedly locked at this hour, but they swung open at his approach. The hospital personnel didn’t spare them a glance as he led the way to Caitria’s room, without any direction from Rachel.
Caitria looked the same, unconscious, battered, and death-shrouded. Gabe moved to the bedside. He looked down at her, and his eyes lost their coolness, transforming to a deep, glowing blue. He placed his hand on her forehead. Light flared around him, so bright, Rachel had to squint against it.
“Caitria Shanice Washington,” he said softly. “Someone is here to speak with you.” He shifted his hand over her heart, and the light grew brighter. “Listen. Listen, Caitria Shanice.”
Was it Rachel’s imagination, or did her friend stir slightly? Gabe stepped back, his gaze pinning Rachel. “All right. Talk to her.”
Shock barreled through Rachel. “Me? What can I say to her?”
“Tell her you’re here. That you care. That she has more to live for than a life of prostitution and an abusive man.” Gabe’s gaze softened. “Speak from your heart.”
Oh, man. Said heart was pounding so loudly, Rachel could hardly think. Wiping her damp palms on her jeans, she moved slowly to the side of the bed. Cleared her throat. “Caitria.” She stopped, overwhelmed by the responsibility Gabe had just thrust on her. She understood instinctively that he had done as much as he could—or would—and the rest was up to her.
She drew a deep breath, focused on Caitria. “Hey, bitch. What the hell are you doing in that bed?” She stared at her friend’s slack, bruised face. “You need to stop lying around on your fat black ass. There are people who need you. Your kids, your momma—” She cleared her throat again. “And me. I’m going to be really pissed if you don’t get well and get out of this bed.”
She paused, feeling her throat tighten. “You have a lot to live for, Caitria. You don’t need that man, and you don’t need to keep whoring. You’re a smart lady. There are a lot of things you can do. You have all kinds of choices.”
She felt a curious shifting inside, a flash of insight telling her she wasn’t just talking about Caitria anymore, but also herself. “You can have a good life. But you have to choose to live.” She realized there were tears on her face. She sensed Gabe moving behind her, felt the strength of his presence.
She swiped furiously at the tears. “Come on, Caitria, damn it, fight! Fight for your kids and for a better life. And if you—If you die on me, I’m going to kick your fat ass from here to Oklahoma. You got that?”
There was the slightest sigh, and then Caitria groaned. Her eyes opened slightly. “That you, li’l…bitch?”
Rachel felt her heart soar. “Damn right it’s me.”
“Where…am…I?”
“You’re at Parkland.” Rachel wiped away more tears. “You’re a little punked out right now. But something tells me you’ll be giving the doctors hell in a day or two.”
“Sure…” Caitria’s eyes drifted shut. “So long as they good lookin’ and have big bangers.”
Gabe and Rachel rode the elevator to the main level in silence. She hated the chasm between them, but she didn’t know what to do about it. They stepped off the elevator, and he faced her. “Caitria’s going to be all right. You said the right things, and she responded to you.” His voice was cool, distant.
She felt a huge rush of relief that Caitria would pull through. “Thank you for coming and helping her.”
“I merely raised her consciousness level so she could hear you. You’re the one who persuaded her to remain Earthbound.”
“I guess.” But Rachel wasn’t convinced. She stared at Gabe, wishing things could be different between them.
“Well.” He took a step back. “Good-bye, Rachel. Have a good life.” He turned and walked away. That was it.
She felt her heart twist, felt the familiar wrench of pain. Only, this wasn’t the old pain. This was here-and-now pain of foolishly allowing herself to care for someone again. Of losing them. “Wait!” she called out. “Gabriel, wait.”
He stopped and turned. She walked to him, stood there, uncertain what to say. “Are you still mad at me?”
He sighed. “I’m not mad at you, Rachel. Maybe a little frustrated—make that a whole lot frustrated. I care for you, more than you can know. But I can’t help you any further, not until you choose to move forward. And the first step is being honest with yourself, and with others.”
She accepted the truth of his words. Willed herself to take the first step. “I don’t want you to go.”
His gaze pierced through her. “What do you want?”
The second step was a little easier. “I want to go back to spending time with you.”
“That’s not possible.” Her heart sank, but then he added, “Without total truth between us.”
Relief slid through her. She knew honesty would be painful on many levels. It would involve intimacy and caring for someone, and those things still terrified her. But she also knew nothing came without a price. She didn’t want to return to the darkness. So, taking a deep breath, she reached for the light.
“I’m ready to move forward. I want to be with you.” Another deep breath, and then she let it tumble out. “I want you to show me what it should be like between a man and a woman.”
She heard his sharp intake of breath, sensed his blood pulsing faster. But his voice was steady as he said, “Be very sure, Rachel. This is not a game. If you commit to this, there will be no turning back.”
“I’m sure.” She looked up at him, trying to ignore the fact her heart wanted to burst through her chest. “Very sure.”
The warmth returned to his eyes, along with a dazzling display of tiny stars that took her breath away. “Good,” he said, stepping forward. “That’s very good.” He kissed her, right there in the middle of Parkland Hospital.
They were at Gabe’s apartment, in his bedroom, although Rachel barely remembered the blurred trip there. All she could think right now was that the man—or angel—certainly knew how to kiss. She thrilled at the way he cradled her head, his fingers tunneling through her hair, as he explored her mouth with slow, tantalizing strokes of his tongue.
He rele
ased her and stepped back. “No second thoughts?”
She was still afraid—terrified, actually—but not of him. Plus the thought of the alternative—the empty barren existence she’d known before he’d come into her life—was unbearable. He’d given her the desire to reach for something more.
“No.” She took his hand and placed it on her breast, tried to ignore her racing heart, which hadn’t slowed since Parkland. “I want to experience life.”
“Thank heaven for that.” He ran a finger down the slope of her breast, teasing the nipple through the sweater. “Undress for me,” he said in a black-magic voice.
She sensed he was pushing her, testing the strength of her resolve. He wasn’t going to allow her to be a passive participant. With shaking hands, she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor.
His heated gaze swept her upper torso, and he gestured to her jeans. “Those next.” His husky voice sent shivers through her. She unzipped the jeans, letting them slip down her legs, and stepped out of them.
“So beautiful,” he said. Moving against her, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra. His hands slid underneath it, covered her breasts. The breath hissed from her lungs. “Like that, do you?” he murmured, his thumbs rubbing her nipples.
“Oh, yes.” She closed her eyes and reached for him, finding his sweater instead of the skin she wanted. She tugged at the cashmere. “Your turn. Take this off.”
He obliged, stripping down to black silk boxers, and her breath caught. He was stunning, golden skinned and beautifully muscled, like paintings of Adonis she’d seen years ago at the Alte Pinakotheka, in Munich.
He pulled her down on the bed, and into a sensual realm of thorough kisses and tactile exploration. The rest of their clothing managed to disappear, and flesh branded flesh.
It wasn’t just the slide of his skillful hands over her body that melted her. It was the way he looked at her, the tenderness and caring in his eyes, and the way he touched her, as if she were a priceless treasure. She felt cherished, loved, maybe even deserving of those things.
In turn, she savored the feel of his body beneath her hands, the artistry of his physique. It was difficult for her to express her feelings, so she tried to show him instead. Coherent thought fled when he kissed his way down her breast and took her nipple in his mouth. She moaned, arching against him.
But she tensed when his hand swept down her abdomen and teased the dark curls there. He raised his head and looked at her. “What is it?”
She didn’t want to remember the brutality of the Nazi soldiers, or for the ugliness to come between her and Gabe. Yet there was the issue of honesty. “I’m not right down there. I tore when they…” She closed her eyes against the memory. “I’d probably have bled to death if I hadn’t been turned. I never healed properly.”
“You’re beautiful just the way you are,” he said softly, “but we’re going to ensure you can have a normal life.”
His hand moved between her legs and stroked the tender flesh. She’d barely registered that incredible sensation, when he slipped a finger inside her. A heated tingling vibrated through her entire abdomen. “Gabe,” she gasped.
“Shhhh. Just go with it, Rach.” He slid down her body, as his finger continued stroking in and out. Then he lowered his head and licked her, and she almost came off the bed. “Gabe!” He splayed his free hand across her abdomen and held her still as he continued the sensual torment.
Her lower body was on fire, but pleasure overrode the pain, sweeping her along in a fast-moving current that shot her into an explosion of light and sensation. “Oh, oh…Gabe!” she screamed, flashing to the stars and back—only it was far more potent than when she drank blood. And it seemed to go on and on.
When she finally settled, and coherent thought started staggering back, Gabe moved up and took her in his arms. “You’re perfect down there now,” he whispered, his lips against hers.
“But, how—”
“What do you think?” He arched his brows at her. “I am an angel in my other incarnation.” He rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him. “Now it’s my turn to be all better.”
He probed upward between her legs, lowering her slowly until he was deep inside her. Then he stilled, raised his hand to cup her face. “Are you okay with this?”
Taking a deep breath, she stared into his eyes, into an infinite universe of warmth and light and stars. This was Gabe—not a Nazi soldier. “I’m…good,” she said, surprised to find it was the truth. She felt safe, and an incredible sense of freedom. She couldn’t resist pressing her knees to the mattress and sliding upward, and found the friction sinfully pleasurable.
“Sweetheart, you are way beyond good.” He groaned as she slid back down him. “Do that again.”
She discovered how wonderful it felt to have him inside her as she moved, made headier by being in control, and by the power to render him at her mercy. She kept moving, caught up in his hoarse words of encouragement, urged on by his hands roaming over her. Then she was seized by a need so fierce, so intense, her body instinctively took over the rhythm, moving on its own accord, knowing exactly what to do.
“Yes, that’s it,” Gabe groaned. “Oh, yes. God…yes!”
And they both flashed to the stars and back.
Rachel lay in Gabe’s arms, drowsy and pleasantly sore. Her body still hummed from the incredible sensations of two orgasms. She’d have gone for more, but he’d been firm in his insistence that she needed time to recover. “You’re new at this,” he said. “Your body has to get used to it.”
“Oh, please. I’ve been a prostitute for over sixty-five years.”
He smacked her bare butt. “Don’t give me that crap.”
“Ouch!” Rubbing her abused posterior, she glared at him. “I thought angels weren’t supposed to mistreat their charges.”
“Oh, well, then, let me kiss it and make it better.” Laughing, he did just that, and then drew her into his arms with an angelic smile. “Now be good.”
“That’s your job.” She sighed and snuggled against him. But soon, her acute awareness of his heartbeat and the blood rushing through his veins stirred a voracious hunger. She hadn’t fed tonight; needed to take care of that before she lost control.
She rolled over and sat up. “I’ve got to go.”
“Why?” He stroked her bare back.
“I have to feed. I haven’t had any blood since last night.”
“You can take my blood.”
She glanced back and saw he was completely serious. “That’s not a good idea.” She got up and started gathering her clothes.
“Why not?”
“I don’t feed from people I know.”
“But why not?”
She gestured helplessly, struggling to put it into words. “I want to keep that part of my life separate.”
Gabe stood and took her arm, halting her attempt to put on her jeans. “What are you keeping it separate from?”
She thought of the dark depravity of having to drink blood—which was forbidden in the Torah. Somehow, the only way she could do it was if she took it from strangers, and gave them something in return. “It’s bad enough I’m a monster,” she said. “Why would I want to expose anyone I know to it?”
“Because maybe it’s part of who you are?”
There he went, getting philosophical again. She pulled away. “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t. I said you could take my blood.”
“And I said I don’t want to do that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you drinking my blood, Rachel.”
Her hunger was beating at her, fraying her nerves. She whirled on him. “Damn it, Gabe! I don’t want your blood. I don’t want you tainted by what I am.”
His eyes narrowed. “First off, you’re not tainted, and you’re not a monster. Secondly, it would be nice if you would trust me for once.”
“I do trust you,” she said, frustrated.
“No, you don’t. You�
�ve resisted me at every turn. Every victory with you has only been after a major battle.”
“Damn it! What do you want from me?”
His eyes glowed, and the light around him brightened. “I want you to believe in me. And in so doing, accept that She loves you and wants you to live.”
Back to Her again. It was becoming harder and harder to think clearly, with the hunger growling. Rachel sank on the edge of the bed. “Why does everything have to be so hard with you?” she asked wearily.
Gabe sat next to her, beautifully naked. “It’s not me, it’s the nature of free will. Each of us has to make our own choices. The most important decisions are rarely easy.”
“Tell me about it.” She thought about his request, and it made her stomach clench. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Do you love me?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Do you love me?”
“No! I can’t love you.” Utter panic exploded inside her. The beloved faces of family members flashed through her mind—Mother, Father, Aaron, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins—all murdered at the hands of the Nazis. “I can’t.”
“You either do or you don’t, Rachel. Just because you’re afraid of something doesn’t make it go away.”
She dropped her face in her hands, frustrated, confused, and trying to sort out the emotions swirling through her.
“I know you care,” he said. “It’s all right to feel love for someone. Love is divine, and it’s the pattern in which we’re supposed to live our lives.”
“Love hurts.” Sudden tears filled her eyes, tracked down her cheeks. “I can’t love you, Gabe. That will only cause more pain when you go away. I don’t want to take your blood. I don’t want you to remember me as a monster.”
“Blood is life, Rachel. Needing it does not make you a monster.” He leaned closer, his voice seductive. “Use my blood for your hunger. Give yourself to me. Give me your heart, your soul, your trust. Choose life, Rachel.”
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