Fallen (Seven Deadly Sins #2)(78)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“That you have to stay. I can feel your thoughts.”

“Feel my thoughts?”

“Yes, it’s kind of like an aura. I understand why you need time to think. It’s okay. I don’t want you to do anything impulsively or that you aren’t comfortable with. Take all the time you need to think about us.” He wanted to kiss her, but didn’t dare. “I know I’m asking a lot of you.”

She propped herself up on her elbow and stared down at him, frowning. “Look at me.”

“I am.”

“Tell me what you are.”

Gabriel brushed his fingers over the tips of her hair and swallowed. “I’m a demon.” It hurt to say that, but he had to own the truth.

She nodded. “Yes, I do need time to think. Go ahead and buy your ticket and head back tomorrow and I’ll call you in a few days.”

Only she wouldn’t. He knew it as surely as he knew he was fallen.

Her decision was already made whether she even knew it or not, and her future didn’t include him.

It was something he had to accept.

And he owed her a huge debt for showing him how to love again, for facing who he was and what he needed to do.

So he cupped her cheek with his hand and let her eyes lock with his, let her inside the remnants of his palace, let her see the color and shine and strength of his love.

Her eyes went wide and lost focus as she embraced his gift, and fell into a sleep that would be filled with dreams of everything that made her happy, where there was no murder, no suffering or pain or hatred.

Tomorrow she would wake up and start her life over again, and he would be gone.

Chapter Twenty-two

Walking hadn’t helped. Gabriel had paced down Dumaine to Chartres, across the square, down by the river, walking on and on trying to shake off his feelings, trying to exhaust his body and quiet his thoughts, but it hadn’t worked. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sara, couldn’t stop missing her, wanting her.

The past, his mistakes, were struggling to hold him, and he was fighting to forgive himself, to look ahead to a future that was no longer isolating and self-deprecating. Tired of the anxiety, of the restless wandering, Gabriel stepped into a bar on Conti Street and made his way to the back, where it was dark and quiet.

He ordered a whiskey without hesitation. He smelled it, breathing the sting and tang deeply into his nostrils. He stared at it in his hand, then he set it back on the bar. He watched the ice gradually melt into the amber liquid and he studied the signs on the dingy walls that advertised liquor and beer. He glanced at a waitress moving around the room collecting empties.

Gabriel was amazed at how much he hurt, how he ached and burned, how the thought of Sara made everything in him convulse and squeeze in agony.

But he also knew that if there were no pain, there would never have been pleasure.

That was what living with mortals had taught him. To appreciate the beautiful moments, the joy, the love, the now.

The bartender was wiping down the counter, her thick brown hair falling across her face. She tucked it behind her ear and Gabriel saw a scar on her cheek, running from the right ear to her chin, a jagged white line that was shiny and bright against the rich end-of-summer tan glowing on the rest of her face. She must have sensed his stare because she glanced up at him and smiled, even as her fingertips brushed her scar, like she was conscious of the fact that she had exposed it, that he might be looking at it.

“You going to drink that or just look at it? You’ve been here an hour and you haven’t even taken a sip.” She pulled her hair forward again, covering her imperfection.

He had no intention of drinking his whiskey. It was sitting there to remind him of who he had been and what he was now. To show him that he was a man, master of his own destiny, owner of his actions, and unworthy of pity. He had been granted gifts that he intended to use again.

“I’m here for the company, not the alcohol.”

Her brown eyes went wide. “Are you kidding? Here? Nobody’s good company here, sweetie.”

It was true the clientele was a bit tired and eccentric. Most of the people in the bar seemed to be propped up against the counter, with little conversation or interaction other than that with their glass.

“Do you have a pen and paper?” he asked.

“Here’s a pen.” She tossed one his way, then reached under the counter. “And here’s a paper bag. That’s the best I can do.”

“Thanks. That will work.” While she got someone a beer and emptied ashtrays, Gabriel sketched her, capturing the lushness of her lips, the thickness of her hair, the wide eyes and high cheekbones.

When he was done, he gestured to her.

“You want another one?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at his still-full glass. “Or how about a soft drink or something?”

“I just wanted to show you.” He pushed the bag over to her, wanting her to see her the way he did, as a work of art, a thing of beauty, a woman with a lovely smile, and a cheerful approach to a thankless job.

Her curious gaze turned to shock, then pleasure. “It’s me,” she said in wonder. “I think.”

“Of course it’s you.”

“You made me look . . . sort of pretty.” Her fingers touched the paper.

“That’s how I see you,” he told her.

Her mouth rounded into an O shape. “Wow. Thanks. Can I keep this?”

“Sure.” Gabriel lifted the glass of whiskey and drew in a deep breath, smelling its rich aroma again.

He set it back down. He didn’t need it. Didn’t crave it. Didn’t want it.

He was free.

Sara was alone again. Gabriel had left, which he’d had to do. Which she had told him to do, because it was necessary. She had encouraged him to leave without her.

He wasn’t human, wasn’t mortal, or a man in the sense of what she had always understood. He was from another world, with different rules, and he had to go back.

She knew that.

Yet she was conscious of the fact that she was alone yet again.

It seemed her path in life, no matter which way it weaved and turned, was to be walked in solitude.

Sara drove to her mother’s house and parked in front in the dark. There were lights on all over the house, and she could see two small girls running around in the family room since the blinds hadn’t been drawn. She had sold the house to a young couple who had needed the reasonable price for their growing family, and were willing to overlook the fact that someone had been murdered there. It was nice to see the hustle and bustle of a family moving around the rooms, a plastic play set in the backyard.