"I love you, cara mia," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "Now and for always."
"Yes," she gasped. "Oh, yes."
With a cry, he buried himself within her warmth, and there was no more loneliness, no more darkness.
And as his body merged with hers, she felt herself become a part of him. For a few brief moments, her mind linked to his and she felt the terrible loneliness that had plagued him for three long centuries. For the first time, she understood the vast gulf that stretched between Gabriel and humanity. She understood his loneliness, his emptiness, his overwhelming need for the touch of a human hand.
Her touch. Her hand.
Whispering his name, her eyes filled with tears, she offered him all that she had, her heart, her soul, her love, and prayed that it would be enough.
PART One Chapter Twenty-two
He held Sara in his arms while she slept, one hand lightly stroking her hair. Time and again, he had tried to warn her away, but no more. From this night forward, she would be his. He would watch over her, protect her. He would destroy her enemies, destroy himself rather than allow anyone to harm her.
In the hour before dawn, he made love to her again, and then, too soon, the sun was climbing over the horizon. He gazed at her for a few more minutes, reluctant to leave her, knowing he must.
"Have you a basement?" he asked.
Sara frowned at his odd question. "No."
"An attic, perhaps?"
"There's a small crawl space in the ceiling above my closet. Why?"
"I can't expect you to abandon your bed every day at dawn."
"I could stay here, with you."
"No."
"Please, Gabriel. I hate having to leave you after we've made love. It makes me feel like a... a..."
His eyes darkened. "Like what, Sara? A puttana?"
"Yes, if you must know! I want to go to sleep in your arms."
"You won't like waking up next to a corpse."
"You're not a corpse!"
"That's exactly what I am," he said with a weary shake of his head. "You still don't understand, do you? I'm not alive. I haven't been alive for over three hundred years."
"Stop it!" She pressed her hands over her ears, refusing to listen. She knew what he was. How could she not? But why did he have to dwell on it? Why wouldn't he let her forget?
Gabriel took a deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides as he fought down his anger, his frustration.
"I'm sorry, Sara," he said quietly. "Forgive me."
She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. "I only want to be with you."
"I know. Don't you think I want it, too?" His gaze met hers and she saw the anguish in his eyes. "Don't you think I'd love to fall asleep beside you, to have your face be the first thing I see when I awake?"
"We could go away," she said. "I could sleep during the day and spend my nights with you."
"Is that what you want, to give up dancing, to give up all you've worked for, to be with me?"
"Yes."
It was tempting. For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to have Sara there beside him, to fall asleep in her arms, to reach for her when he awoke.
But he had to give her a chance to think it through, to fully understand what kind of life she would have if she chose to stay with him.
"You're a young woman, Sara. You have your whole life ahead of you. Think of what you'd be giving up. You'll never have a normal life if you decide to stay with me."
He ran his fingertips over her cheek, loving the warmth of her skin, wishing, as he had wished so many times before, that he was a mortal man again, that he could live with her and love her as he yearned to do.
He looked deep into her eyes. "Once you are truly mine, I will never let you go."
The possessiveness in his gaze, the intensity in voice, gave her a moment's pause. He was telling her, warning her, that if she decided to stay with him, her decision, once made, would be irrevocable.
He saw the sudden apprehension rise in her eyes, knew the very moment when she remembered that he was no ordinary man, that she wouldn't be able to decide she'd made a mistake and walk away.
"We'll talk more about it later," he said.
Sara nodded. Reaching for her robe, she slid out of bed and began gathering the