Part Five
Cordelia eyed the clinking keys. How in the hell was she going to get out of this one? She looked at the smug, satisfied look on the jerk’s face, feeling her stomach roll in protest at the lustful leer he was now giving her body. He had her. And he knew it. Panic set in. He might have her, might even do some damage, but she was definitely going to try her best to make him hurt like hell before he got what he wanted.
Suddenly, a word came to her mind. Crystal and clear.
Stave.
Her eyes darted around the room looking for anything to defend herself with, to hold him off until….for what she wasn’t sure. No one knew where she was. She knew no one would come. She was sure the rapist in front of her had made sure of that. But something in her gut told her differently. Her mind sent her another message.
Stave him off until he comes.
James took a step forward as he secured the keys in his front pocket.
She could use her heels, try to get a good kick in on the family jewels, her nails were at their peek, tailored but long, maybe a good scratch to the eye…..Cordelia’s eyes landed on her purse just behind him, an idea blooming. Quickly, she lunged for her bag as he tackled her to the floor. Just in reach, she slung open the bag and pulled out the small bottle, flipping in his arms and turning her own head as she sprayed.
“What the fuck?” he yelled as he wiped the cold spray from his face. Now he was getting angry.
“Crap,” Cordelia muttered underneath him, realizing that she had changed purses, watching the bottle of Holy Water as it rolled free from her hand.
James pinned her roughly with one hand as his other began to fumble at her clothing. “I’ve never had one fight this hard before,“ he breathed heavily. “I think I kinda like it.“ His face was sweating now and she could feel the result of his excitement pressing hard on her thigh.
“Stave hell,” she mumbled in a rush of breath as she wriggled and brought her knee up hard.
***
Angel approached the address he had memorized from the slip of paper. The place looked deserted, but Cordelia’s scent was strong. Strong and new over a faded one. She had been back. He eyed the building, then closed his eyes, concentrating all of his senses on the darkened interior. His nostrils flared, his eyes shooting open and blazing with fury. An inhuman growl escaped his lips as he bounded up the stoop and ripped open the unlocked front door. Her scent was strong now, mixed with that of a male. Sounds of a struggle echoed in his ears from a back room. With inhuman speed he raced to the door. Whoever had her would pay. He would rend and tear and torture……..
Angel froze in the doorway, what was left of the now splintered door lying before his feet. It took him a moment to take in the sight before him. An unmoving human lay sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from a crack over the head, Cordelia hovering above him in a warrior’s stance and what looked to be some sort of camera tripod gripped in her hands. Her wild, fearful eyes shot to Angel’s. “Did I kill him? Oh, God. I think I killed him.”
Tamping down his anger and his need to kill, Angel approached her slowly, taking the equipment from the hard grip of her hands, letting the metal stand clang to the floor. She was shaking and panic at the thought that she might have actually killed someone was taking over her mind.
“Shhh,” he crooned as he wrapped her in a comforting embrace, stroking her head. “It’s okay. It’s over.”
“Is he dead?” her voice quivered slightly.
Not yet. “No,” Angel answered, his ears picking up the strong heartbeat of the man on the floor. “Just out cold.”
“Check, just to make sure.”
Angel turned her, keeping his arm securely around her and led her to the other side of the room, sitting her down in a chair against the wall, wanting her as far away from the soon to be dead man as he could get her. He left her, walked to James’ side and knelt down beside the now stirring body, careful to keep his back to Cordelia. James’ eyelids slowly blinked and then opened.
“Hey,” Angel greeted with a soft voice, his tone full of false concern. “You okay?” he kept his voice low so Cordelia couldn’t hear.
The man below him nodded slightly, his faculties gradually coming back to him.
“You gave her a good scare. You like that, don’t you?” Angel whispered. “Gives your little dick a great big hard-on.” Angel smiled a lethal smile. “Want to see something really scary?” he pulled on James’ shirt, inching him a little closer, hoping to Cordelia’s eyes he looked only as if he were trying to help rouse the man. When he was sure James’ eyes were completely focused on his face, Angel morphed into his vampiric visage. James jerked and a little moan escaped his lips. “You see, I can’t kill you because she’s here. But I wanted you to see what was coming for you, waiting for you. Hunting you. Are you looking? I want you to take a good long look asshole. I want you to know what death looks like,” Angel’s jaw clenched. “Because the next time I see you, you won’t see me.” Angel stared in the man’s eyes for a moment, then glanced down to the puddle spreading on the floor beneath James’ body. He looked back at the man and smiled before morphing back. “Glad you got the message.”
“Is he okay?” Cordelia’s shaky voice came from across the room.
“He’s fine,” Angel dropped the man’s head and rose, walking back to Cordelia.
She stood to meet him. “We should call an ambulance or something. I mean, he’s a loser and a creep, but he’s human. It’s not the same as when we kill demons or any……. “ Cordelia’s face looked puzzled, her brow frowning. Where had that come from?
Angel swallowed hard at what appeared to be a memory. He wanted to egg her on, pry open the crack in the barrier that seemed to be in the way of her past. But when she didn’t continue, seemed lost in the thought, he simply took her back into his arms. “He doesn’t need an ambulance. He’ll be fine.”
“Maybe the police then. I don’t want him to try this with anyone else. I’m sure I’m not the first,” she said the words against his chest.
Angel didn’t want police involved. They would know him then and when they found the man’s body it could get messy for him and Cordelia. “Don’t worry. I gave him a little talk. And that crack over the head you served him will keep him tame for a long time.”
Cordelia wasn’t so sure, but with Angel’s arms around her she could convince herself she supposed.
“Come on. Let’s get you home,” he guided her to the door, both of them giving one last glance to James who was beginning to sit up and gingerly touch his head.
***
The Keeper could not seem to get used to the new feelings that were bombarding her spirit as of late. All of her existence she had only felt the love and peace of her home with the souls rewarded with a blissful afterlife. Now she felt a feeling she could only connect with worry as she made her way to the inner chamber. Worry for Cordelia.
“Welcome, Keeper.” A formless voice greeted her.
She answered with a small bow of her head.
“The warrior has found her. Her time must end. But this you knew. Did you not?”
“I have watched them,” she admitted quietly.
“She must return.”
“She must die you mean,” the Keeper hardly recognized her own rebellious voice.
“Why use this word ‘die’? It is a human word, Keeper.”
“It is what will happen. And she will suffer.”
“Only for a moment.”
“I speak not of the physical suffering of death. I speak of her suffering here. Without him.” Why was she so distraught over this one human? It was not in her nature to feel such emotions. She could only assume that it was her protective instinct of the ones she looked after. After all, it was her job to protect those given unto her care. Make the rest of their existence, their definition of eternity, a peaceful one. Cordelia was the first of her charges that had ever been sent back to the physical world. A world in which she still belonged. Cordelia would find no peace with the other souls and the knowledge of that rendered a large tear in the Keeper’s bright spirit.
The Keeper lifted her head, finding a bravery she wasn’t sure she really had. “Is it so wrong for them to be together? Must the warriors punishment continue? Even after all he has done? Does he not deserve his own kind of peace?”
The Keeper was met with a long silence that finally had her bending her head again in defeat. After several long, stretching moments the voice addressed her kindly, “Dear, Keeper. You do yourself justice in your affection for these souls. But there are events and plans of which you are not aware. Our separation of the warrior and of your charge is not a punishment. It is simply not part of the plan.”
“Then give me awareness of the plan. Help me to understand why this must be done so that I may help her come to peace.”
There was another small pause before the voice began again. “The day of the human warrior is over. The time for a new chosen force is at hand. The Slayers have served their purpose and stopped the firestorm that budded at the Hellmouth. But they were like water to a fire. Dousing it until it is but smoke. But now the fire will resurface as a blazing inferno. The Slayers, being all called, will have no replacements, and not the strength to fight this war. There will be no more born and the called will live out their lives, putting out small fires, and dying heroes. Fire will be needed to fight the new fire. A monster to fight the monster.”
“So he will again be used to fight for us, never gaining his reward, to live.”
“Does he not live now!” the voice became angry. “And is he not ungrateful for his gift.”
“Gift? He is cursed. A broken soul brooding over a broken promise.”
“Ah, to shanshu. To live. And do you define life with the beat of a heart as well, Keeper? Did your charge have a heartbeat in your garden? Do any of your wards?”
“No,” the Keeper answered softly.
“Yet they still are. They have life here. What defines them then? What gives them eternity?”
The Keeper’s eyes widened slightly in understanding. “Their soul.”
The voice was quiet.
“But his soul was a curse. An accident.”
“There are no accidents.”
“But his demon stayed with him. Sharing the body.”
“As it was meant to. It was the warrior who rejected his vampire half. Imagining himself human. Trying to be what he was not. That denial is what put him in danger. Nothing else.”
“But there is another that lives with a soul. Where is his demon?”
“With him as well. It was part of his demon that sought the soul. Two warriors, vampires who live, if not by breath and beat of a heart, then by their souls. And they are just the beginning of a new race to fight for us, for the world.”
“You mean there will be others?”
“There are others now. Or at least one. The new warrior has sired a mate.”
“And Cordelia does not fit into that plan,” the Keeper sighed with realization. “She, like the Slayers, is human and has served her purpose.”
“Do not think we care nothing for her. She served us and the universe well. It is why we sent her to you. And soon she shall be with you and the others again. Time will wash away her memory of life with him. She will heal and the race will evolve.”
“How is it to be done?” the Keeper asked quietly.
“The time is not known, but she will die by the hands of a vampire.”
The Keeper’s eyes shot up sharply, “What?”
“It is our decision and has already been sent to the Fates.”
“And it will serve two purposes, will it not?” the Keeper added suspiciously.
There was no answer.
“Of course it will. It will ensure the warrior’s commitment to the fight by taking her in that way.”
“It has been decided. It will be done.”
The Keeper turned slowly, head hanging in defeat, a feeling that must be sorrow spreading through her body of light. She stilled for a moment, lost in a thought. She turned, hoping. “I would see to her transition. If it would not offend the Fates,” she tried to keep herself calm.
There was silence.
“She is my charge. I feel a warmth toward her. As do I for all my souls. But she has been special. May I see that it is done? Might I help her when it is time?”
“You must not forget what must be done Keeper. Her death has been decided, she must die, and do so in no other manner than what has been given to the Fates. To disturb this delicate balance could mean disaster for us all.”
“I understand,” the Keeper agreed, hoping Cordelia would understand the way in which her life must end.
Part Six
Cordelia’s hands were still shaking as she tried for the second time to place her keys into the lock of her apartment door.
“Here,” Angel said as he reached out and took the keys, unlocking the door.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, her eyes downcast.
In fact, Angel had noticed, she hadn’t looked at him once since they had left the building, even though he had tried desperately to catch a glance from her on the short taxi ride back to her place. He watched her intently as she took the keys from him and walked into the apartment, not looking back. She tried tossing them at an end table by her sofa, but the shaking apparently had her aim a little off and they clanged to the floor. She didn’t bother picking them up. Instead she headed straight for the couch, sat down hard, and stared forward.
She was in shock, Angel thought. Or in danger of it anyway. The thought of how she would have ended up if the dead guy had actually succeeded in raping her made Angel tremble just a bit. And the thought of how he would have handled the situation made him want to go back and finish the job Cordelia had been forced to start on the guy. Instead, he stood just outside her apartment, the door wide opened, staring at her.
“Cordelia?” he finally said softly.
“Hmm?’ she responded but didn’t look his way.
“Cordelia?” this time a little stronger.
Her eyes lifted to his, easing his anger a bit.
“I can’t come in. I mean, I want to. But….”
“I’m sorry,” she seemed to try to shake her trance but failed. “Come in.” She looked forward again.
Angel strode in cautiously, shutting the door and plunging the apartment into darkness. Walking to the couch, he reached for the lamp.
“No,” she said quickly. “Don’t turn it on.”
He could tell she was still staring, holding her hands tight fisted on her lap, desperate to stop their shaking. He sat down beside her, waiting for her to speak. And she would speak, he knew it. This was Cordelia. His Cordelia. She would need to talk. Get it out. Clear the air and get it over with. He loved that about her. The way she dealt with the world and its ugliness. The way she took its punches, falling for only a moment before getting up again.
She looked down at her hands even though he wasn’t sure she could see them in the darkness. “They won’t stop shaking,” she said as she stared at them.
Angel reached over, covering both her hands with one of his. Her hands, usually so warm, were colder than even his own dead skin. “It’s normal. What he did….what he tried to do would throw anyone. Even you.”
She looked his way then, her eyes making out his shape but not his face. “Do you think that’s the first time a guy’s tried that? I stopped shaking around the second or third experience with one of the many creeps in the world like James.”
Angel stilled the growl that seemed to form from the man’s name on her lips.
“I learned a long time ago that that was part of the game, part of getting ahead if you wanted to be an actress. So I learned little tricks to get around it, eventually getting lucky enough and good enough at it that nothing ever happened to me. So, you see, I’m not so shocked by his behavior. Maybe a little shaken at how close I came to getting…….”she looked back down at her hands, covered by Angel’s. She didn’t make a move to pull them free. “I’m in shock at my own. I’ve never…..“ She was quiet for a moment, then whispered, “I could have killed him.”
“You didn’t. It was a knock on the head. Self defense, Cordelia. I’m glad you did it. Grateful.” His jaw clenched. “You were merciful. He deserves death for what he tried to do to you,” the last part was said so softly she almost didn’t catch it and was surprised that his statement had not sickened or scared her.
“But there was something in me that took over. Something……like I’d been trained to do it. To fight. To hold him off until-”
“I could get there?”
She looked back at him quickly, “But that’s not possible. Why would I do that? And how did you know I was there anyway?”
“I looked at the address in your hand this morning. When you didn’t show up for our….date…..I thought I would trace the steps you took today, make sure you were alright.”
“See, that right there,” she said accusingly, puzzling Angel. “There is something seriously wrong with me,” she shook her head and looked back down at their hands.
“Wrong with you?”
“Yeah, I mean. That should creep me out, right? You memorizing an address in my hand. Following my…trail….because I’m five or ten minutes late.”
“But it doesn’t,” he made it a quiet statement.
“No, it feels….I don’t know….safe.” She didn’t mention the fact of him watching her apartment from the street that first night. How it had thrilled and scared her, excited her in a way that she didn’t think it should. What was wrong with her? This was Angel. Why this close feeling? Even now, the way he was comforting her. His quiet stillness, his hand on hers, seemed right. Seemed natural.
But even that wasn’t the largest part of what had shaken her. It was the memories of violence that had flashed in her mind at the sound of the crack of James’ head as the tripod connected with bone and flesh. Flashes of violence by her own hands. Hurting people, people she didn’t recognize; and most of all, hurting Angel while she herself smiled. Was it a premonition? She had been having strange episodes over the last few weeks. Knowing when someone was going to burn themselves in the kitchen at the restaurant right before it happened. Stopping Carmen, the other hostess, from walking out into the street just before a speeding car zoomed by.
She stared at his hand on hers, listened to the quiet of the apartment as he gave her time to think, as if he knew her, what she needed.
No, it was no premonition. She could never hurt Angel. Maybe it was fear. Fear of what she was capable of that had given her the horrible images. After all, it could be a shocking thing to realize you were capable of giving someone else a concussion.
Angel watched her think, feel her way through the scare she had been through, wanting to crush her to him but knowing she needed a moment to breathe through the shock of what had happened. “How you doing?” he finally whispered when he felt the tremble in her hands easing.
“Better. Sorry about all this. You wanted dinner, not the thrilling evening you actually got. And I’m sure you’re tired of hiding out here in the dark with me,” she gently removed her hands from his and stood up, turning on the side lamp.
Was she kidding? He could spend an eternity hiding in the dark with her. “I could fix you something,” he offered. “If you’re hungry.”
Cordelia’s eyebrows raised as if he had just made the most ridiculous statement she had ever heard. “You?”
“Sure,” he stood and tried to act nonchalant, hoping to get to stay a little longer.
“I don’t know,” she shook her head, weary from the nights events, confused by whatever was passing between the two of them. “I was just going to take a long shower and head to bed.” And wash the stink of James forever from her body. And burn her clothes. And give herself a long talk about listening to her inner radar.
“Take your shower,” he began to usher her to her room gently. “By the time you’re through I’ll have dinner ready.”
She looked at him as he stood outside her bedroom door, looking like a kid waiting for permission for something in which he knew the answer would probably be a great big ‘no’.
“Alright, I’ll be out in a bit,” she said, giving a weak smile as she shut the door.
***
Thirty-five minutes later, her skin rosy from the amount of body scrub she had used, Cordelia came out of her room in flannel Pjs and floppy slippers. She cringed at what she must look like, had even considered putting on something a little more attractive, but frankly she was just too damned tired to be sexy tonight. So, she opted for comfort, hoping it didn’t destroy any small attraction Angel held for her. Hesitantly, she walked into the kitchen, the most wonderful smell invading her head.
Angel’s back was to her as he flipped the humungous omelet over in her pan. God he looked sexy there. Standing in her kitchen. What was it about a man that made him even more attractive when he did something so domestic as cooking or holding children? The omelet was flipped-out onto a plate with an ease that would rival the head chef at the restaurant. Turning off the burner, Angel turned a was struck still, his eyes taking her in from head to toe, a look she couldn’t define passing across his face.
This was not good, Cordelia thought. Of course he was dumb struck. Look at her. He probably expected Cordelia Chase, high school cheerleader, all polished and beautiful before him. He had cooked her dinner after all, with his own hands. And he didn’t even eat. Well, this was the best she could do. So what that the image was ruined. She would not feel bad. She would not be disappointed by that look on his face. No, she definitely would not.
Look at her, Angel thought. God she was gorgeous. From her floppy house shoes to her too-baggy pajamas. That’s what he loved about her. The world thought of her as some ice cold beauty queen, so that’s what she gave them. But his Cordelia was way deeper than that. She was all warmth and strength and it pleased him to no end that she had come out of her room this way. No pretense, no attempt to improve on her already natural beauty. Just Cordelia. Natural and beautiful.
Cordelia fidgeted at the buttons of her flannel top, feeling as if the comfort route had now been a mistake. “It smells wonderful,” she decided to break the tension, pulling Angel from his trance. “I didn’t think I had all of that in my fridge.”
“You didn’t actually.” Actually it had worried him just how empty it was. “I ran down to the little grocer on the corner,” he explained as he sat the plate on the table. He turned and opened a few drawers, found the flatware and placed it beside the plate, pulling the chair out, waiting.
Cordelia smiled, that Cordelia smile and he wished he could rewind the moment, place the plate and fork down and pull the chair out again just to see it form across her face a second time.
She sat down, “Aren’t you going to sit?” she hoped.
Angel shook himself, he was staring again. “Yeah, sure.” He pulled out the chair to her right and sat. Watching her as she picked up the fork, cut off a square and took a bite. She closed her eyes as she chewed.
“This is,” she swallowed. “Oh my gosh. This is great. How did you learn to cook?”
“I’ve been around a while. Picked up a few things.”
“But you don’t eat.”
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled as she took another bite. Loving the way her perfect mouth fit delicately around the fork before sliding back.
“I feel self conscious. You watching me eat.”
“Don’t. I like it.”
She laughed then. Really laughed. “I’ve never been around a man that liked to watch a woman eat. At least I don’t think I have. “
He shrugged his shoulders again, smiling just a little, in ecstasy over the intimate moment. Maybe he was finally being rewarded. Because this definitely ranked top of the list, sitting in Cordelia’s kitchen, watching her eat, giving him a smile now and then in her sexy, heart stopping, flannel moon pajamas and her fluffy slippers.
The minutes flew by and over the next hour their soft voices and occasional laughter floated from the kitchen. Angel didn’t want it to end. Ever. But after an hour, the omelet gone and dishes washed, Cordelia started walking to the living section of her apartment slowly making her way to the door. He didn’t want to leave. God help him, he almost prayed for the days of her visions, the times when he stayed with her, helped her through them. He cursed himself for thinking that way. Knowing what they had done to her. To them all. So he followed her like a good date would, making his way with her to the door.
God, she didn’t want him to leave. But how do you say, “No, please stay” to a guy without him thinking it means you’re a slut. And that certainly wasn’t the picture she wanted to paint for Angel right now. She wanted Angel to feel that glow she was feeling. That warmth that let you know you wanted a guy, not just in your bed for that night, but in your life. She let out a little sigh of disappointment as they reached the door, thinking it too small for Angel to catch.
It wasn’t.
“So,” she said expectantly at the door.
“So,” he repeated. He knew she didn’t want him to leave. That was what the little sigh had meant. Wasn’t it?
“Thanks for the omelet. And the company. I don’t think I could have gotten through tonight quite as well if you hadn’t been here.”
“I could stay,” he said before he could stop himself. “I mean. Not for….just for company I mean. I could stay, sleep on the couch. I hate leaving you here tonight after what happened. Not that you didn’t prove you can take care of yourself pretty well. I just…. I want to. If you’ll let me.”
Yes! That’s what she wanted to say. “I guess,” she opted for the cooler route. “If the couch is okay with you.”
“Hey, I’m crashing with Spike. I’m obviously not that picky.” Christ, why did he say that? Smooth. Real smooth.
Well, that was not promising, she thought with sarcasm. Her place ranked on the ‘I’m not that picky’ chart. Right along side Spike’s. “I’ll get some blankets and the extra pillow off my bed.” She disappeared into her room, her voice echoing out from its walls, “The curtains are thick, just pulling them closed should be okay,” she came from the room with a blanket and pillow in hand.
She was thinking about him. Worrying over what the sun might do to him in the morning. Angel stared at her for a moment because he couldn’t help himself, catching them both in some kind of unspoken moment. Something that neither could voice passing between them. He walked to her slowly, taking the pillow and blanket from her arms. “Thanks,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers as he let the bedding fall to the couch beside them. God, he wanted her so badly, and felt like a jerk because of what she had gone through just hours before. How could he be so insensitive? She had almost been raped for Christ’s sake.
She wanted him to kiss her so badly. If she was honest with herself, she wanted much more than that. But he seemed hesitant, scared even. So, she took the initiative, “Well,” she said and stood up on her toes a little, giving him a soft, slow peck on the cheek. “Goodnight,” she whispered, knowing it had been no innocent gesture, the word ‘goodnight’ breathing against his cheek before she was completely facing him again.
Angel caught her arm gently when she would have turned to go and pulled her close to him. He felt her heart race a little, but couldn’t sense fear. He took that as his green light and pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms around her.
Cordelia watched as his lips descended slowly to hers, felt their first brush of cool, soft skin. She kissed him back, not hard but not soft. A solid kiss that had Angel leaning in a little further, pulling her a little closer.
Angel growled softly. She tasted so good, he’d forgotten how good. All of the others, the ones he had tried to make into her in his loneliness seemed like shadows compared to what he felt now. His hands found their way up and tangled in her mass of hair and his chest rumbled with something between a growl and a moan, he tilted his head, his mouth enticing hers to open to him.
The vibration coming from Angel’s chest sent a shock racing through Cordelia and when he deepened their kiss, she opened her mouth to his, felt the first stroke of his tongue, and…… Fire. That’s what she felt. Some exquisite burn that started in the pit of her stomach, making it’s way lower until she lost herself, melting in the kiss.
His tongue slipped inside, dancing with hers, diving in, retreating, until they both groaned together with the ecstasy of the kiss and the frustration of wanting more.
Cordelia reached up, her arms sliding around his neck, fingers slipping through his hair. Their heads changed positions as they kissed and nipped at each other, deepening the kiss yet again, mimicking with their mouths what they wanted to do with their bodies.
Her body was going up in flames, burning even as it shivered in response to him. Her flannel top suddenly felt itchy against her hard nipples. She couldn’t get close enough. God, she was so aroused and……so was he, she thought as she felt the evidence of how turned on he was through his black trousers as it pressed hard against her stomach. She pulled back slightly for a breath.
“Couch,” Angel said a little weakly. “I’m sleeping on the couch,” as if to reassure her or to harness himself.
“Uh-huh,” she agreed before diving back in for another kiss.
Cordelia was pressed solidly to him now, flannel and silk and leather their only obstacles. She was lost, almost gone when her brain began its attempt to interrupt. ‘It’s Angel.’ She heard it whisper to her.
She ignored it. So, what? It was Angel, and she wanted him more than she had ever wanted any other man in her life.
Man….pire.
Vampire.
Angel. Vampire, with a soul.
Cursed, vampire with a soul.
Cordelia shoved him away.
“What? What’s wrong?” Angel asked, confused and a little more than dazed.
“We can’t,” Cordelia panted, trying desperately to catch her breath. “You…me,” her hand waved between them, her head shaking.
It had been too soon. Damn it. He knew it had been too soon. “I’m sorry, Cordy. I should just go.”
“No,” she said quickly. “We just,” she took a deep breath. “Maybe we need to cool things off for tonight.”
Angel took a small, reluctant step away, wondering if his body would agree to the retreat.
“I’m just going to turn in,” she started backing to the bedroom before losing her self control again, knowing if she stayed any longer they’d both be in a world of trouble.
“I’m just going to,” he indicated the couch.
Cordelia reached her room, “Goodnight,” she made herself shut the door even as he repeated the word back.