Embrace the Night

Page 27



Gently, he placed her in her chair and suddenly the magic was gone. She was Sara again.
"The dress," she said, blinking back her tears. "I can't keep it."

He nodded his understanding. There was no way for her to explain to the nuns how she came to have such an expensive gown.

Keeping his face impassive, he carried her to the bed, quickly divested her of the elegant blue dress, and helped her into her night rail. Kneeling at her feet as if he played ladies' maid every day, he removed the satin slippers, drew the gloves from her hands.

"I had a wonderful time," Sara murmured. "Thank you."

"Until tomorrow night, then," he said. Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his lips and kissed her palm. "Sleep well, cara."

She blinked back a tear, and he was gone.
Chapter Six


He walked the streets for hours after he left the orphanage, his thoughts filled with Sara, her fragile beauty, her sweet innocence, her unwavering trust. She had accepted him into her life without question, and the knowledge cut him to the quick. He did not like deceiving her, did not like hiding the dark secret of what he was, nor did he like to think about how badly she would be hurt when his nighttime visits ceased, as they surely must.

He had loved her from the moment he first saw her, but always from a distance, worshiping her as the moon might worship the sun, basking in her heat, her light, but wisely staying away lest he be burned.

And now, foolishly, he had strayed too close. He had soothed her tears, held her in his arms, and now he was paying the price. He was burning, like a moth drawn to a flame. Burning with need. With desire.

With an unholy lust, not for her body, but for the very essence of her life.

It sickened him that he should want her that way, that he could even consider such a despicable thing. And yet he could think of little else. Ah, to hold her in his arms, to feel his body become one with hers as he drank of her sweetness…

For a moment, he closed his eyes and let himself imagine it, and then he swore, a long, vile oath filled with pain and longing.

Hands clenched, he turned down a dark street, his self-anger turning to loathing, and the loathing to rage. He felt the need to kill, to strike out, to make someone else suffer as he was suffering.

Pity the poor mortal who next crossed his path, he thought, and gave himself over to the hunger pounding through him.

She woke covered with perspiration, Gabriel's name on her lips. Shivering, she drew the covers up to her chin.