Part 11
Staring absently at the computer screen in front of her, Cordelia twisted and untwisted a section of her hair repeatedly as she lost herself in her thoughts. They’d been back at the hotel for an hour already since their appointment, and she was still caught up in one brief exchange between Dr. Van Buren and Angel. One brief, three question portion of the conversation that had her all glassy-eyed and turned on. A part of the conversation that no normal, healthy woman should be turned on by. At least, she didn’t think so.
The words echoed in her brain.
“Do you feel your demon whispering nasty little thoughts into your head? About how you want to take her? How you want to dominate her, subdue her, claim her?”
“Yes.”
Here at her desk, Cordelia swallowed audibly and squirmed in her seat. Unbidden, images of being bound and at Angel’s mercy assaulted her, tickling her in wicked places until she could barely sit still. She knew his demon was a part of him, loved even the Angelus in him, but she’d never thought about the proclivities of demon sex before today. She knew that it was wild and probably dangerous for a human to participate in, but she also knew that Angel, in any variation, was capable of inducing pleasure beyond her limited imagination. If the man could kiss in a way that made her melt from the inside out, she knew that if he unleashed his demon’s passionate nature on her, she’d be nothing but charred ashes when he was though. Totally sated, completely satisfied and eternally content ashes, though.
“Did you find the info yet, Cor?”
Angel’s voice behind her startled her, then sent her into a panic. Oh, god, she was all turned on and he was behind her. Close enough to smell her. Oh, god. Ewww. Sometimes she hated knowing so much about him.
“Um, no, not yet. Got a little distracted.” Quickly, she reached for the mouse and found the pages with the information they needed, writing down the phone number and passing it to him.
Angel tried desperately to fight the urge to inhale deeply. Whatever she’d been thinking about, it had definitely had an impact on her body. She was ambrosia to him right now, a scent that made practically made him high on its potency. God, he’d love to sink himself so damn deep that—
“So are you going to go already, or what?” Cordelia said, derailing the lust train running through his head and looking at him strangely. It was only then that he noticed the scent had dissipated somewhat.
Sighing, he turned to leave, then stopped again. He had to be out longer than this errand required, or he’d never be able to make it back here tonight and not force himself on her.
“I think I’m going to go for a walk after I get the info, Cordelia,” he said, his look far away. “I think I need some alone time.”
Her gaze turned serious. “Sounds like a good idea,” she said. “I could use some of that, too. If I’m asleep when you get back, wake me up.”
He nodded, favored her with a tender smile, then left, all swishing coat and salty goodness.
She sighed, looking after him. Definitely, alone time was of the good tonight. She could relax in a soothing bubble bath without fear that Angel would interrupt her. She could bury herself in a book and forget reality for awhile. Anything but revisit those nasty but so enticing thoughts of bondage and Angel.
Oh, god. Shouldn’t have gone there again, she thought, eyes glazing again. No. Bad Cordelia. Focus. On anything but Angel. And handcuffs. And leather. Oh, god!
But somewhere within herself, the defense mechanism popped up to relieve her of her lust-induced haze and drag her back to the pain of reality. Nasty bondage thoughts of Angel, no matter how alluring, were pointless, because they would never happen. Not because they were bad, but because she could never have Angel. They weren’t to be, and no matter what kind it was, there would be no physical love between them. There couldn’t be.
Despair had a great way of ruining all her fun.
***
She hadn’t even seen him coming. One minute, she was staring out the large window into the twinkling lights of L.A. at nighttime, and the next, she was being yanked out of her chair by a dark figure with a menacing scowl. He pushed her up against the window, pressing her cheek against the cold glass, and she gasped with the pain and fear.
“You’re going to tell me what your up to, Dr. Van Buren, and you’re going to tell me now,” the stranger said, and it was only the deep timbre of his voice that made her relax just slightly. It was just Angel.
Wait, Angel was a vampire. A potentially dangerous, mean vampire, when pushed too far. Okay, maybe this was bad.
“You’re hurting me, Angel,” she whimpered, struggling against him.
He released his grip slightly, letting her turn her head toward him. She was surprised to see that there was no anger in his face, only solid determination.
“What are you hiding from us?” he asked point blank.
She sighed, her eyes compassionate, as she realized the game was up. She reached a hand up and grasped his forearm, stroking him soothingly. “Angel, I will explain everything to you, but I’d like to do it in a calm, civilized manner if you don’t mind.”
Feeling a little ashamed at his heavy-handed tactics, Angel released his grip on her and backed away. With perfect composure, she straightened her mussed collar and returned to her seat, gesturing to one of the empty chairs nearby. He sank into one, his posture controlled, like a panther ready for a fight.
She smiled slightly, her eyes open and honest for the first time since their initial session. Angel hadn’t noticed the steady increase of shadows in her eyes until he was faced with the clarity of her honesty staring back at him. He knew she was going to be candid with him, and it made him relax.
Her next question threw him off guard.
“Angel, I have to ask you something before I answer your questions, and I know you’re not going to like it. But understand that to reveal what I’ve hidden from you I have to know your true feelings on this. It’s important, vital even, to your relationship with Cordelia, maybe even to her very life.”
That got his attention.
“Okay,” he said, eyes wide. “What is it?”
She paused, then let the bomb drop. “Are you in love with Cordelia?”
He seemed startled by the question. Okay, so he’d already admitted it to himself, but saying it out loud was another thing entirely. Hearing it made it real, and it made it that much more painful. He knew he couldn’t have her, and the only protection he had against complete and utter despair was verbal, if not internal, denial.
“What? No! Why would you think that?” he said, laughing nervously, looking anywhere but her eyes. “Of course I love her, she’s my best friend. But I’m not in love with her. No way.”
She just raised an eyebrow at him, then shook her head with a sad smile on her face.
“Wrong answer, Angel. Try again. You’re forgetting that I’ve seen the interaction between you two for over a month now. You’re electric, the two of you, and if there are no feelings on your side of this relationship I’d be extremely surprised.”
He finally met her gaze and saw the compassion there, the understanding as to why he chose to deny his feelings to her. After a moment, he sighed, then ran his fingers through his hair.
“Yeah, okay? I’m in love with her. More in love with her than I’ve been with anyone in my life. But I can’t have her.”
“Maybe you can,” Dr. Van Buren said softly.
“No,” he said with a humorless laugh. “You don’t understand. I have a curse that denies me perfect happiness if I want to keep my soul. I was cursed by Gypsies as punishment for killing one of their favored daughters. I deserved the punishment, all right, but it sucks to live with it.”
“I know about the curse, Angel.”
“Oh, right. Wesley told you.”
“No, I knew of it even before Wesley and I met.”
“What?” he said, staring at her.
“I am the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter, spiritual leader of the Gypsy people, Angel.”
His eyes grew huge and he shrank away from her, fearing the worst.
She smiled compassionately at him, her countenance soothing. “No, Angel. I’m not here to punish you further. In fact, I tried to get your curse lifted. I tried to make it so that you could find the happiness that you crave. And I succeeded, in part.”
“You did what?” he whispered, in awe. “There’s no curse anymore?”
The sparkle in her eyes faded and she turned away from him to look at some unseen point out the window. “No, there’s still a curse, all right.” Her mouth curled up in a mockery of a smile. “I had your curse removed, then reinvoked with a different clause.”
This was not sounding good. Angel’s nervousness grew. At least before, he knew what he was up against. What had she done?
“The new curse allows you to keep your soul, and it is made permanent in a moment of true happiness.”
He visibly relaxed. Well, that was good news. No, better than good news! He could go home and find his perfect happiness, right now. Today. With Cordelia. A wide grin began to spread across his face.
Dr. Van Buren noticed and doused his happiness with cold water. “There’s more, Angel. If you don’t experience that perfect happiness by next week, your soul will leave you, never to return. Angelus will be back. For good.”
Immediately, a growl of frustration escaped him. “Why didn’t you tell me this?” he demanded. “I could’ve been working on this for a month or more now, and you hid it from me?”
“Did you know you were in love with Cordy a month ago?” she asked knowingly.
That stopped him. “No,” he admitted.
“Then you understand why I couldn’t tell you. Your happiness must be genuine, Angel, or the powers behind the curse will know. Your moment of pure happiness can not be forced. I take a chance telling you, even now.”
“But I can find my happiness with Cordelia now. I can tell her I love her and we can find it together.” But even he had doubts. What if Cordelia turned him down? What if she didn’t love him? What if she didn’t want him, didn’t want all of him? If she couldn’t accept his demon like he needed her to, he couldn’t be happy. Not perfectly happy.
Dr. Van Buren’s face was sad.
“I hope so, Angel, I hope so.”
***
The walk home from Dr. Van Buren’s office gave Angel plenty of time to contemplate his fate. Plenty of time to think of a thousand ways to screw it up. A thousand ways that his happiness could escape him again, just when it was within his grasp.
Just when he’d thought he was going to implode with the stress of it all, he happened upon a demon, the extra slimy kind, and it was exactly the treatment he needed. Pure, unadulterated violence was always good for working out the wrinkles in one’s psyche.
The demon’s death had been quick and precise, a decapitation that was beautiful in its deathly grace. One swing of the sword concealed beneath his coat had done the job, but the mess it created more than made up for the quickness of the fight. Now walking into the lobby, alone, yet satisfied, Angel felt as though he’d had glue dumped over him and left to dry.
Filmy clumps of slime, the consistency and color of snot, had landed in various places on his body, clinging to his hair and clothes despite his efforts to scrape them off. They were merely uncomfortable, not toxic, but walking home had been especially irritating. The time it took to return to the hotel had made the substance dry, making his clothing stick to his skin in some really annoying places.
Walking into the empty lobby, Angel first stored his weapons away in the cabinet, then began the trek upstairs where he knew Cordelia was waiting. His chest tightened in anticipation at seeing her again. The feeling was quickly replaced by irritation as part of his hand began to itch under the drying slime. As he climbed the stairs, he began undressing, one layer at a time, carefully peeling back the stiffened, soiled clothing until he was shirtless, pants unbuttoned, and walking through the door to his suite.
At the threshold, he stopped and stared at Cordelia, asleep in the bed and completely oblivious to his presence. His enhanced night vision gave him a perfect view of her face, flushed in sleep, her body curled up and around itself, her knees pulled in close to her chest. Her hands were pressed together, as if in prayer, and tucked underneath her pillow. The sheet and blankets rode low on her hips, leaving her upper body exposed. The soft fabric of his t-shirt hugged her curves as if it had been caught somewhere underneath her, pulled taught against the front of her body.
He stood there, lost in the rhythm of her even breathing and steady heartbeat, thrumming with the strength of his love and desire for her, before suddenly moving back into action and quickly crossing the room without a sound at all. Along the way, he lost the rest of his clothing, his socks and shoes, and made his way quietly into the bathroom. A quick, cold shower rid him of the slimy residue of his hard work, and he slid on his pajama pants as he walked back into the silent sleeping room. She lay there still, oblivious to his movements.
It wasn’t until he slid under the sheets next to her that she acknowledged his presence. With a somnambulist’s innocence, she sighed, then turned over and snuggled into his side, burrowing the top of her head under his chin and laying her cheek across his upper chest. One of her legs draped over his thigh, and she reached down, pulling the blanket up to cover them both.
He stiffened for a moment at her change in position, then wrapped his arm around her, pulling her even tighter against him. He ran his fingers lightly through her hair, caressing her, hoping that her dreams were pleasant in the gift of sleep. He lightly kissed the top of her head, but paused as his lips touched her scalp.
He had to wake her up. He had to tell her about the curse, tell her that they could be together and love each other just like they’d been dreaming of.
Well, just as he’d been dreaming of. He had no idea what her thoughts on the subject were, and the fear of her rejection stopped him cold. No, he decided emphatically, he wouldn’t do that. Not yet. He’d kiss her, just as he had every night for the last week, but let her think it a dream. Tomorrow he would probe her feelings to see if she felt the same way he did.
Scooting down underneath her, he brought his face level to hers and tilted her chin up so that her mouth was in line with his. Briefly, with a touch lighter than a ghost’s, he brushed his lips to hers, then flicked his tongue out to taste her. She whimpered in her sleep, opening her mouth slightly and bathing him with the scent that drove him wild. Groaning, he leaned in and tasted her again, sampling, nipping, barely touching but meaning so much at the same time. She sighed and curled into him, returning the kiss even in her dreams.
And as he broke away from her, seeing the contented smile on her face, he felt safe to say what was in his heart. His pledge echoed in the quiet night, despite the low resonance.
“I love you, Cordelia.”
And in that moment, his happiness was nearly complete.
***
Contentment washed over Cordelia as she felt the first fingers of consciousness prod her mind. She sighed, snuggling further into the cool length beside her. It was mere moments before she came fully awake and realized that the pillow she was burrowing into was Angel. She fought the urge to jump away in shame, knowing that it would wake him. One glance at the light behind the curtains told her it was way too early for Angel to be up, and she didn’t want to disturb him. She hadn’t even heard him come in last night, so it must have been late.
As it was, she was happy to just pull back a little bit, rest her head on her own pillow, and watch him in the quiet stillness of sleep. It was disconcerting to her that he showed no signs of life when he slept, no breathing, no heartbeat, no twitching or muscle spasms like humans had in their sleep. It was as if he were a statue, a beautiful marble work of art waiting to be set on a tomb and admired by tourists for centuries.
He stirred briefly, as if in defiance to her thoughts, and his eyes fluttered as he turned to face her. They opened slowly, unfocused, as he centered in on her face. She smiled at him tenderly, loving the gentle battle he fought with sleep.
“G’morning, big guy,” she said softly.
“Morning,” he said back, his voice husky with an early morning growl.
Just as she was about to say something else, his arm around her tightened, bringing her closer to him. His other hand came up from under the covers and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her gently. His eyes liquefied, turning to pure, undiluted love as he looked at her. She nearly gasped at the openness in his gaze, and it was almost more than she could take. Again, she tried to speak, and again, he rendered her speechless. This time, with his mouth.
The kiss was tender, passionate, and wild all at the same time. His tongue moved out to taste her, and the control left him at that brief contact. Cordy whimpered underneath his assault, and opened her mouth freely to him, bringing her own tongue to rub against his. In a replica of the actions above, their bodies began to rub against each other beneath the covers, her heated core coming briefly in contact with his cool hardness.
In a desperate bid for clarity before it became impossible, Cordelia pulled back, then pulled back again when Angel followed her. She shook her head, turning her lips away from him, and pled, “Angel, wait!”
“What is it, baby?” he said, his voice husky with desire now. He moved down to her neck, kissing, licking, tasting, hitting places that made Cordelia’s eyes cross as she struggled to regain her hold on reality.
“Angel, we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”
He stopped, pulling back from her and staring into her eyes. “I need you so badly, Cordelia. Just let me love you, baby.” He kissed her, a passionate melding of their mouths that stole all of Cordelia’s fears away and replaced them with liquid desire. He stopped again, his voice ragged. “Don’t worry, Cor, We need this. We need to be together like this.”
The roar of desire deafened her to his words, and with lust-filled eyes, she focused on him, breathing heavily. She brought her hands to the back of his head, pulling him down to her for yet another kiss, this one wilder, more primitive than any they had shared before. He tasted of so many things, like the smooth, thick headiness of deep, dark coffee, an addicting taste that had her panting and writhing beneath him. Her hands covered his face, stroking his jaw, his brow, his cheeks, resting her palm against his cheek and feeling the movement of his tongue inside her mouth.
Angel was overwhelmed by the full-on, undiluted onslaught of Cordelia Chase. He was drowning in her, in her scent, her taste, her feel, knowing that he had to have her or he wouldn’t be whole. Knowing that without being inside her, he would never be complete. His hands wandered her body, cupping, stroking, caressing, until she was one mass of exposed and quivering nerves, trembling from the force of her desire.
Slowly, he pulled up the t-shirt of his she was wearing, exposing her perfect body to his hot gaze. His mouth followed the trail of exposed skin, brushing her belly with his lips, lightly tonguing the dip between her breasts, breathily kissing her collar bone, sucking on her pulse point and feeling her life flow beneath her skin. Eventually, he found her mouth again, sliding the t-shirt over her head and flinging it away. He grasped her hands with his, holding them above her head as they frantically kissed, mouths moving in frenzy against each other.
Cordelia was not going to let her occupied hands stop her quest to see him equally naked. She spread her legs, bringing him closer to her center, so, so close, yet not close enough. She undulated beneath him, moving until her feet were free to wrap around him. She scooted up, hooking one toe into the waistband of his drawstring pants and slowly sliding them down his body. He let her struggle with his clothing, smiling against her mouth at her creativity. When she’d shoved as far as she could, he finished, pulling the pants down and off, out of the way.
He made equally quick work of her underwear, until they were laying, skin to skin, mouth to mouth. Cordelia groaned with the perfection of the feel of his body against hers, and it nearly undid her to know that soon, the burning inside her would be replaced with the cool length of him.
But Angel wasn’t to be hurried. Despite his initial frenzied passion, he was determined to love Cordelia like she deserved. His mouth traveled from hers, back down her body until he found her unattended breast. He cupped it in his big hand, stroking the tip with his roughened fingers, smiling in satisfaction as he realized it was already hard from his attention to the rest of her body.
Cordelia looked down at him, her body taut with unresolved lust, and it nearly burst as his mouth closed over her nipple. She moaned as he sucked, his cheeks hollowing with the effort, and she thrust up underneath him, hoping for a friction that would ease the ache.
He ignored her attempts and lazily continued his worship of her body. He stayed at her breasts for awhile, sucking and licking until Cordelia felt like she’d explode from the torment. When he left them, intending to travel further south, she growled, a low feminine rumbling, and yanked on his biceps until he looked up at her in amusement.
She was panting, her eyes glittering and black with desire. Forcing past the haze to get her words out, she said, “If you don’t get up here now, Angel, I’m going to stake you. I swear,” she threatened.
He smiled, but did as his lady asked. Within moments, he was poised at her entrance, the tip of him kissing her wetness, when clarity returned full force to Cordelia. Oh, god. What was she doing?
She loved him, that was without a doubt. But Angel wouldn’t be doing this with her unless he was sure that he couldn’t be happy with her. Unless he was sure that Angelus wasn’t a threat. Despite his attention to her body, despite his obvious lust, it was clear that Angel didn’t love her. The love she thought she’d seen so clearly in his gaze was clouded over with the ambiguity of now, and she questioned what she’d so clearly accepted just moments ago. He cared about her, that much was obvious. But love her? That was impossible. She choked back a sob, the movement brushing his hardness against her clit, and she gasped, closing her eyes against the painful intensity of his gaze.
Angel realized there was something wrong the moment he aligned himself with her entrance. The moment he pressed against her and her eyes widened. He was about to open his mouth to declare his love, when he saw something in her eyes, something that shouldn’t be there. He watched in disbelief as sadness, and regret washed over her eyes, mixed with the desire until the sunlight he’d seen there was obscured by clouds of doubt. He felt his heart break as he realized she was pushing him back, pushing him away, even as her body was opening to accept him.
And yet neither of them could deny the strength of their desire for one another. They hung in that painful moment for what seemed like years, both struggling with their desire and their tumultuous emotions, before Cordelia took the initiative to bring them to fulfillment. She turned tear filled eyes back to Angel and uttered one word that undid him.
“Please,” she begged, arching against him. “Please, Angel, I need you inside me.”
Her breathy whisper propelled him forward and he gasped at the heated, silky glove that enveloped him. Her arms wrapped around his back, her legs tightened around his hips, and she held him there, tears streaming down her face as she experienced the beauty of Angel’s body and the despair of her heart breaking in two.
The misery in Angel’s heart was just as acute. She felt so good, better than anything he’d ever felt, ever experienced, in all his many years of life. But the joy of this first time with her was being stolen from him by the knowledge that she didn’t love him, couldn’t trust him with her heart. So he did the only thing he could in his blinding love for her: he gave her everything he had, moving against her, thrusting, creating friction that brought them both gasping and panting to the edge of oblivion. Oblivion that would deliver them from the pain, if only for a moment.
Cordelia buried her face in his neck as she neared completion, refusing to meet his eyes. The pain and joy mingled together into a macabre river that flowed through her, washing her away. She wailed as he lifted her hips, changing angles, hitting places inside that made her come apart, bursting into a thousand glittering pieces. Her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth dropping open as she panted, and still, he moved inside her.
It wasn’t long before Angel gave up, gave in to the demands of his body and released himself inside her. There was joy in the fulfillment, but the pain overshadowed it, and his hopes for the achievement of perfect happiness were dispelled, whisked away on the winds of fear, regret, and unconfessed secrets.