Blood and Chocolate (20 page)

30

Vivian backed away from the window, afraid to take her eyes from Gabriel's face.

He ripped out what was left of the screen with one fierce yank. “I've never told anyone before, but I've come to tell you.” He climbed into her room.

“Say what you came to say,” Vivian demanded, her heart pounding. The faster he did the faster he would leave.

Gabriel looked around and stroked his lower lip thoughtfully with his thumb. He sat on her bed. The springs creaked in protest as he propped himself up against her pillows and stretched out his legs. He was too large for her room; his occupation of her bed too intimate. Vivian pulled the neck of her robe closer together.

“When I was first out in the world,” he said, “I met a dancer in a bar. She was out of place there—too educated, too sensitive—but she had fallen on hard times. She needed someone to protect her from the guys who came on too strong. I loved to watch her dance. She was lithe and beautiful, but there was something fragile about her because, of course, she couldn't change. Just looking at her made me feel large and powerful. This excited me.”

Vivian lowered herself into her desk chair. This story annoyed her.

“I couldn't keep away from the bar,” Gabriel said. “The girl became my obsession. I would have done anything for her. I was surprised at how quickly I won her, because I thought she was too good for me. We became lovers and I was the happiest I had ever been. She was gentle and enthusiastic, and I believed I satisfied her, but there was always something missing for me. That feeling tormented me but I couldn't put my finger on the cause.”

Vivian remembered how Aiden was always still kissing when she wanted him to bite. “I don't want to hear this,” she interrupted, blushing.

Gabriel gave a short, humorless laugh. “No doubt you don't, but you will.”

Vivian sighed and shut up.

Gabriel continued. “I found, however, that if I changed only the tiniest bit while we made love I had more pleasure. I thought that perhaps I felt guilty for keeping the truth of what I was from the woman I loved, and that by changing I was being more honest without actually telling her. But it became harder and harder for me not to change all the way when we were in bed together.”

Up to now, Gabriel had stared straight at Vivian with a solemn intensity, but now his gaze went beyond her as if looking into the past.

“Then, one night, I went too far and I couldn't turn back.” The muscles in his arms tightened and bulged as he clutched the sheets. His voice became harsh. “In the midst of a kiss, she pulled away from me and cried in terror. It was unbearable. I should have understood her fear but logic had fled. Here was my true self and she hated me. I was ashamed to scare her, crushed and angry that she rejected me. I shook her while I still had arms. ‘It's only me,' I cried. ‘I love you.' But my mouth had lost the shape for speech.

“She screamed and called me a filthy beast. Her words ripped me to the soul. The room flamed red. I hit her.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “One of our own could have taken that blow.”

Vivian watched the rise and fall of his chest as he struggled for control. Without realizing what she did, she rose and went to him.

When he opened his eyes and looked up at her, he appeared much younger than he had before.
He's only twenty-four,
Vivian remembered. It was his self-assurance that made him seem much older.

“I didn't mean to kill her,” Gabriel said. His voice cracked.

Vivian recalled the fear on Aiden's face, and the despair she'd felt. She sank to the bed beside Gabriel. “I know, I know.” She took him into her arms.

If she hadn't jumped out the window, she could have killed Aiden.

Gabriel held on to her, his head on her shoulder. “I fled from that town, and I lived for months like a stray. I was ashamed to take on human form again.”

They were quiet for a long time as she stroked his hair. Finally he sighed. “Thank you.”

“You could have warned me,” she muttered.

“Would you have listened?” he asked.

“No.”

Gabriel kissed her neck slowly and deliberately. She jerked away. How could he bear to kiss her when she looked the way she did?

He must have guessed her thoughts. “Vivian, you are beautiful in anything you wear.”

She blushed. “Why would we even be attracted to one of them?” she asked.

“Lots of reasons,” he said absently as he gazed longingly at her lips. “They look like us, at least what we look like sometimes, and when you're lonely—”

“But they're not like us,” Vivian broke in.

“They can't change,” Gabriel said, abandoning her lips in favor of her eyes. “But I do believe they have a beast within. In some it's buried so deep they'll never feel it; in others it stirs, and if a person can't give it a safe voice it warps and rots and breaks out in evil ways. They may not be able to change, but they still can be the beast of their own nightmares. It's our blessing that we can exorcise those demons. Sometimes it's our curse.”

“You've thought about this a lot,” Vivian said. She'd taken him for all action, orders, arrogance.

He reached for her hand. This time she didn't pull away.

“But they can't love us,” she said. “Not when they know what we are. What's that legend? A werewolf can be killed by a silver bullet fired by someone who loves him. I guess Aiden didn't love me. I didn't die.”

Gabriel squeezed her hand. “Silly girl. He didn't love Rafe, and Rafe is sure as hell dead. His aim wasn't as good when he hit you, and we got the bullet out in time before it poisoned you.”

“Did you? Then why am I stuck?”

He tugged her to him and caught her in his arms. “You don't understand, do you?”

“Understand what?” she asked, struggling unsuccessfully to get away.

“It's your choice,” Gabriel said, nuzzling her ear. “You're doing it to yourself. If you want to, you can make the change. Relax. Let go.”

“No, I can't,” she said, panic trembling in her voice.

“Yes, you can,” he insisted huskily. “And I know how to help you.” His lips descended on hers.

She was surprised by the intensity of his kiss. It sent a swift pang through her, and she yielded up her mouth without thinking. He tasted her thoroughly, his tongue caressing hers, demanding that she respond, and she found her hands tangled in his hair, refusing to let him stop, her nose filled with the spicy dark smell of him.

This was the kiss she had craved. The kiss that Aiden couldn't give her. Gabriel bit her lip, and she gasped and captured his mouth again with her own. He was raw and sharp and rich and throbbing with life. He was sweet blood after a long hunt. How could she have mistaken Aiden's kisses for this? They had been delicious and smooth like the brief comfort of chocolate, but they had never been enough.

Gabriel pulled her over his body to lie on the bed beside him. His kisses pressed her down into the oblivion of the mattress as her hands explored his chest, his shoulders, his face.

“I want to lay my kill at your feet,” he said, more groan than words, and held her tight by her hair as he marked her neck with his teeth.

She writhed against him. She wanted to bite him, she wanted to rip the flesh from his back, but most terrible of all, she didn't want him to stop. Her back arched, her body shattered, she howled. Gabriel flung himself away. She struggled in a tangle of sheets and robe, floundering, and fell off the bed on all fours.

She let out a yelp of astonishment, then turned in circles trying to look at herself.

Gabriel sat there laughing. His hair had grown shaggy, the teeth he showed were feral. He smelled wonderful.

“Vivian,” he said, a rasp in his deep voice. “When we love someone we want our lover as mate in both our skin and our fur. We couldn't do anything but reveal ourselves to our human choices.”

Vivian trembled. What if her change was only one way? The bile of fear rose in her gullet. She had to prove that she was truly unstuck. Screwing her eyes tight, she claimed her human form again—and it was so easy, like breathing. She staggered slightly with the excess effort.

“It was only a matter of time,” she said, not wanting him to be right, yet wanting him.

Gabriel smiled at her tenderly. “No. I think that you've just proved that you'll have me.”

He reached for her and kissed her again, his claws tracing lines down her back, and her legs turned to liquid, and this time it wasn't from the change.

“Why me?” she asked, holding on to him.

“Because you cared,” he whispered. “You cared so much for your people, it broke your heart to see the pack in ruins. You cared so much for your mother, you risked your life for hers. You cared enough to save someone who wanted you dead. And because you walk like a queen. And just because of the beautiful curve of your neck.”

Gabriel pulled off his shirt. He tossed it behind him. “Come out with me beneath the stars,” he said.

If she left with him now, her world would be changed forever. She would be bound by duty for life, like her father.

Like my father,
she thought, then realized,
This is what I owe him. This is how I make it up to him.

“Don't wag your tail yet, wolfman,” she said to cover her fear and desire. “You've bitten off more bunny than you can chew.”

She followed him to the window, the blood singing in her veins.

A
LSO BY
A
NNETTE
C
URTIS
K
LAUSE

Turn the page for an excerpt from

THE
Silver Kiss

A
VAILABLE FROM
D
ELACORTE
P
RESS

Excerpt from
The Silver Kiss
copyright © 1990
by Annette Curtis Klause

Published by Delacorte Press
an imprint of Random House Children's Books
a division of Random House, Inc.
New York

All rights reserved.

 

She paid the cabdriver in front of her house, but when she got to the front door, she couldn't bring herself to fumble the key into the lock. She shoved it back into her jacket pocket. I can't face that silence right now, she thought. It's suffocating.

She went to the park and watched the children play until they were called away to dinner. It was company of sorts, yet undemanding. A few stragglers came back to defy the dusk curfew on the playground, but as the shadows became deeper, and the lights came on, even they were called back to warm beds in houses full of parents, brothers, sisters, and blaring TV sets.

I wish I had a brother or sister, she thought. Someone to take charge. I don't want to
have
to be responsible. I hate doing laundry. I hate having to remind Dad the phone bill's due. Mom always looked after us. The old anger rose. She thumped her knee gently with her fist as if to subdue it. She thought she'd gotten over that. It's not her fault, Zoë told herself. It's stupid to think that. She's not going away on purpose. But Dad's going to be a vegetable. Who's going to look after me?

A cold breeze swept through the park, and clouds blew across the early moon. Zoë pulled her denim jacket closer around her. It was time to get the heavier coats out from the storage closet upstairs. She shivered suddenly, as if ice trickled down her spine.

“It's a beautiful night,” came a soft voice beside her.

She turned swiftly, heart pounding. A young man sat there. The lamplight outlined him against the dark bushes behind like a ring of frost around the moon. He smiled at her as a cat smiles, with secret humor. “You scared me,” she whispered fiercely. Who was this person invading her bench?

“I'm sorry,” he said, but he didn't look it.

She recognized him then, from last night. As if he saw this he said, “We're even now. You scared me.”

“Why should you be scared?” she demanded. “It's you creeping up on people.”

“Why should you be?” he asked.

Zoë bristled defensively. “I don't like evasive conversation.”

“Do you like any conversation?”

“No. I want to be alone.”

“I think you are alone.” He reached for her hand. She snatched it away and stood up. How dare he be right, then take advantage of it? He seemed surprised for a second, but then his smile deepened, and a dreamy look was on his face. “Please stay,” he said in tones soft as a lullaby. His eyes were huge, dark, and gentle. She hesitated for a moment. He seemed so understanding. Surely she could talk to him. Then her anger surfaced again. The manipulative jerk, she thought.

“I don't know what you're after,” she said, “but you can look for it somewhere else.” She turned and walked firmly away.

“It strikes me,” he called after her in a voice now with an edge to it, “that girls who sit alone in parks at night are the ones after something.”

She was so furious, she could have screamed. She almost turned, but no, she thought, that's what he wants. She walked on. Her anger carried her home before she knew it. Strangely, it had made her hungry. She ate better than she had in weeks.

She hesitated once between mouthfuls with a feeling of dread. Was he weird? Would he have hurt her? No. He looked like an angel in a Renaissance painting. Could beauty hurt?