yearning toward him. He kissed her, his lips skimming her eyelids, the curve of her cheek, the smoothness of her brow. She felt his teeth graze her throat, his breath like the desert wind, heard a groan rumble deep in his throat.
She arched beneath him in silent invitation, her hands reaching for him, wanting to touch the hard wall of his chest, to span the width of his shoulders, to draw him to her, inside her, forever.
"Forever," he whispered, and she wondered if he had read her mind.
And then he was a part of her, his breath mingling with hers, his heart beating with hers, and she knew that if he loved her forever, it would not be long enough.
PART One Chapter Fifteen
Sara was filled with disappointment and a keen sense of loss when she woke to find him gone.
She pressed her face into the pillow and drew in a deep breath, inhaling his scent, wondering why he had refused to stay the night. It would be so wonderful to awaken in Gabriel's arms, to make love to him first thing in the morning, when the world was new.
Maybe tonight she would ask him to stay. Maybe this time he would agree.
Smiling, she slid out of bed. Tonight, she thought. She would see him again tonight.
"Aren't you tired of the ballet?" she asked later.
They were sitting in their favorite cafe, at the table Sara had come to think of as theirs. As usual, she ordered a light meal; as usual, he had only a glass of dry red wine.
Gabriel lifted one black brow. "Are you tired of dancing?"
"Of course not!"
Gabriel smiled at her then. "And I never tire of watching you dance. You have such passion, such life."
His words brought a flush of pleasure to her cheeks. Her dancing didhave more passion, she mused, and she owed it all to Gabriel. He had transformed her from a girl into a woman, and it had changed the world. Now, when she danced, the music seemed to have more meaning, more depth; her body seemed better able to express deep emotion, whether it was Aurora's love for the prince in Sleeping Beauty, or sorrow for lost love in Giselle.
A last bite, and she pushed her plate away. She wiped her mouth with her napkin, hiding behind the cloth while she summoned her nerve.
"Gabriel?"
"Yes, cara?"
"Why don't you move in with me?"
"No."
"Why not? We spend every night together anyway. It would be ever so much easier if you lived with me."
"I told you before, cara, I have my own way of life. I don't wish to change it."
"But..."
"No, Sara, either we go on as before, or we end it now."
"That's not fair!" She stared at him for a moment, and then frowned as a horrible thought occurred to her. "You're not married, are you?"
"No."
"Then why? Please, Gabriel, it would be so wonderful to wake up in your arms."
"No questions, Sara Jayne, remember?"
"No questions, no questions!" She threw her napkin down on the table. "I'm sick of those two words."
Gabriel sighed heavily, knowing he was being unfair. But he could not explain his reasons to her. To do so would be to lose her forever, and he wasn't ready to let her go, not yet.
He lifted his glass, drained the last few drops of wine, and rose to his feet. "Shall we go?"
With a curt nod, she stood up and walked swiftly toward the door, acutely aware that he was close behind her even though his footsteps made hardly a sound. Sometimes she had the feeling that he walked on air.
Outside, Gabriel took her arm, but instead of turning south, toward her apartment, he turned north, toward a small park. He could feel Sara's anger in her rigid posture, in the tension of her arm beneath his grasp. In all honesty, he couldn't blame her for being angry, and yet, even if he wanted to explain why they couldn't live together, what could he say?
Sorry, cara, I'm a vampire. In the three hundred and fifty years of my dark existence, I've trusted no one to know where I take my rest during the day. And you would not want to see me then, my body hard and unmoving, with the stillness of a sleep that is like death. You don't want to see me when I rise, when the hunger is upon me, when my eyes look like death and no mortal is safe in my presence...
They turned down a narrow path. Few people frequented