Embrace the Night

Page 205



Stay away from the park. Stay away from me!

And that was just what she intended to do. She had buried herself in her grief long enough. It was time to start living again, time to find a job.

She glanced around the cheery sunlit kitchen, remembering the happy Saturday mornings she had spent here, fixing breakfast for David and Natalie. It had been in this room where she had told David she was pregnant, in this room where Natalie had taken her first steps…

There was no help for it, she mused, she'd have to sell the house. She'd never be able to look ahead while she lived here, surrounded by memories.

A fresh start was what she needed. A new job. A new house. A new life…

Some of her optimism vanished as she considered the possibilities. She hadn't worked in four years. She hated moving. She didn't want a new life; she wanted her old one back again.

She wanted to see Gabriel.

With an effort, she put him from her mind. Rising from the table, she washed her few dishes, took a quick shower, and drove to the mall, telling herself she'd feel better if she got her hair done, had a manicure, and bought something new to wear.

He prowled the silent house, restless, edgy. Hungry. For blood. For the touch of a human hand. The love of a woman.

Sarah…

Over and over again, he paced from room to room. All were empty of furniture, of life, save for the front parlor and the bedroom he had furnished for Sarah.

Why had he bought this place, he wondered. What need had he of a mansion with eight bedrooms when he preferred to sleep in the quiet darkness of the cellar? He had no need of a kitchen or a formal dining room, no opportunity to sit in the glass-enclosed solarium and enjoy the beauty of a summer's day.

He stared out the window at the gardens, imagining Sarah there cutting a bouquet of roses, wandering along the narrow tree-lined paths, sitting in the swing, sunning herself near the goldfish pond.

Sarah.

Swearing softly, he turned away from the window. He wanted her, wanted her as he had wanted his other Sara. But he could not endure the pain of loving again, could not endure the agony of watching another woman die in his arms, her body ravaged by age or disease while he remained forever young, a mockery of life.

With a roar of impotent rage, he dropped to his knees and smashed his fist against the hearth, again and again, welcoming the pain that splintered through his hand and up his arm. Blood spurted from his knuckles, and he cursed himself for the monster he was, cursed the hunger that fed upon his anger, and fueled his unfulfilled desire.