Embrace the Night

Page 22



He held her body to his with both arms now, and she could feel every inch of his hard masculine form pressed against hers. The sadness in his eyes was burned away by a sudden blaze of emotion that she did not recognize. She felt the heat of it spiral through her, making her aware of him in ways she had noticed only in passing before. He was tall and muscular. His shoulders and chest were broad. She could feel the heat of his body, the maleness of it, where it touched hers.

How well they fit together, she mused, and even as the thought crossed her mind, she became acutely aware of her own body, of a sudden restlessness. She wanted him to hold her closer, tighter. She wanted him to kiss her, the way the prince kissed the princess in the fairy tale.

"Gabriel…" She leaned toward him, until all she saw was his face, his eyes.

"No." With a choked cry, he carried her back to the bed, dropping her onto the mattress as if her skin burned his hands.

"What is it?" she asked, confused. "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" He laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "Ah, Sara, you foolish child. If you only knew…"

"Knew what?"

He clenched his hands at his sides in an effort to still the monster rising within him. Not for centuries had he satisfied his unholy desire with a girl as young, as pure, as Sara. Not since he'd first been made vampire had he quenched his thirst with the blood of an innocent.

"Gabriel?"

Ah, the sweet, trusting sound of her voice as she whispered his name, the unconscious yearning, the untapped passion. He could hear every beat of her heart, hear the thrumming of her blood as it pulsed through her veins, thick with desire. It was almost more than he could bear.

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep, calming breath. This was Sara, his Sara. He could not violate her. He would not take her blood, though to do so would be ecstasy.

"Gabriel, are you ill?"

"No." The word was one of harsh denial. "But I must go."
"So soon?"

"Yes." He opened his eyes and forced a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night." She repeated the words, holding them close to her heart.

"Good night, cara," he said, his voice thick, and then he was gone, running as if he, himself, were being pursued by demons.

He ran for hours, unable to outrun his loneliness, his longing, and then, filled with self-loathing, he entered the monastery. He had no need of a light as he made his way down the long, winding staircase that led to the underground catacombs where the monks had buried their dead. It was a dark place, musty with age