Embrace the Night

Page 223



Her blood. The smell of it was driving him dangerously near the edge of resistance. He could feel his fangs lengthening in response to the smell. It would be so easy to take her, to make her his for all time. "Sarah… please. Go home."

Reluctantly, Sarah moved away from him. For the first time, she realized it was raining. Lightning cut through the black clouds; thunder rumbled across the darkened skies. How appropriate, she thought. In horror movies, there was always a storm when the heroine's life was in danger.

She looked at Gabriel. He was still standing with his back toward her, his hands clenched at his sides. "Will you still be here tomorrow?"

"What do you mean?"

"You aren't thinking of doing something stupid, are you?"
"Stupid? No."

"You're lying."

He turned around to face her. "Am I?"

"You want to die, don't you? That's why you haven't fed."
She was very perceptive, he thought. But then, she always had been.

"I don't want you to die, and I don't want you to suffer." Sweeping her hair away from her neck, she tilted her head to the side. "Take what you need, Gabriel."

He took a step toward her, his hands clenched at his sides. His eyes were afire with an unearthly radiance, his lips slightly parted so that she could see his fangs. They looked sharp and very white.

"Run, Sarah," he whispered hoarsely. "Run, before it's too late."

"No." She fought down her burgeoning fear. He had never hurt her before. He wouldn't hurt her now.

And then he was there, towering over her, his dark eyes aglow as he grasped her shoulders in a grip like iron and pressed his mouth to her throat.

Her heart was beating wildly, louder than the thunder that rolled across the sky. Every nerve ending, every cell, seemed alive, tingling with fear and anticipation. She felt a sharp stinging sensation, and then a curious lassitude crept over her.

He was drinking her blood. She wondered why the knowledge of what he was doing didn't sicken her, and then the ability to think seemed to slip away and she was conscious of nothing but pleasure. It pooled in the pit of her stomach, flowed through her blood like warm sweet wine. She wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him as the only solid thing in a world suddenly spinning out of control. She could hear her heart beating a quick tattoo in her ears.

His hair lay like black silk against her cheek. She longed to touch it, but she lacked the strength to lift her arm. Her fingers clutched his sweater, and it was as if she could feel each individual thread. Colors danced before her eyes: vivid shades of red and violet and blue.