Part 10
Angel took Cordelia’s face in his hands and gently pushed her from the kiss, raising them both to a joined, seated position in one fluid movement. He brushed at her cheeks, carefully avoiding her bruised flesh. “Wesley said he’d found something,” he mused aloud. “He must have discovered a counter spell or a way to reverse the original. He tried to tell me, talk to me about my curse, but…”
“There is no curse,” she breathed the confession that should have come from Wesley himself. But Angel deserved to know, should have been told. She couldn’t keep the secret from him.
“What the hell are you talking about? You just saw it yourself,” he reached up and touched his face again, reminding himself that it was real. “It’s the first time I’ve been able to change since that night in Sunnydale.”
“No, it’s not,” she sighed. Wesley’s deception was going to make this difficult. She worried if Angel would believe her, if Wesley would finally admit the truth, and if Angel’s ability was temporary. “On the balcony, when I looked at you and seemed to be startled. You remember, just after I …touched you. It wasn’t the face of a vampire that shocked me. For just a second I saw this,” she reached up and touched the side of his face with her hand. “At first I thought I was imagining things. Then, in your room, the night you came back, it happened again.”
Angel stared at her thoughtfully for a moment, his handsome brow producing a line as her words sank in. “Even if you did see me, see my face change, it still doesn’t explain what you mean by ‘no curse’. There was a curse, a spell, whatever you want to call it. Maybe there still is.”
Cordelia shook her head slowly. She didn’t feel good about spilling Wesley’s secret. After all, he had only protected the truth to spare Angel more hurt. But her loyalties, on some base and unknown level, lay wholly with Angel. She couldn’t support the lie, not with him looking at her with dark, chocolate eyes full of hope, and a little fear. “Willow Rosenberg’s spell was weak. Wesley said that it wore off almost immediately,” she tried to still the slight tremble in her voice. She couldn’t stand the confusion that now joined the other emotions shining from his eyes. “Their reaction to you hurt you, made you believe you were what they thought you were. A monster. She might have brought it out, but you kept it there.”
Angel stared at her as if deciding what to believe. Slowly his eyes turned from her face to her mirror just above her chest-of-drawers. He stood and crossed to the mirror, not slow or fast, but purposefully. He stopped in front of the piece of glass. For the second time since Cordelia had come to the hotel, he wished he could see what should be there. He stared at the room behind him in the reflection. What did she see? He knew what his human face looked like, from memories and the couple of photos he’d been caught in in the last century. But what did Cordelia see? He’d never cared what he looked like before now.
He saw Cordelia’s reflection walk behind him, stop at his side, his eyes transfixed on her reflection. She looked to the mirror and then back at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you with the truth. And if it helps, I don’t think Wesley meant to hurt you with a lie.”
He simply continued to stare at her reflection, then to the empty space beside her, longing to see what they looked like together, beside one another. The sheet she had wrapped around herself from the bed draped loosely beneath her arms and she pulled it a little tighter in the silence.
“Can you change back?” she whispered her question. “I mean, shouldn’t you be able to change from one to the other? Is that how it works?” She wanted to see if he really was coming out of his self imposed punishment, wanted to know that he was regaining some control.
Angel stared at the empty space, concentrating on the way his fangs felt as they pushed through his mouth, the way his brow protruded, the way the beast inside him fed his capacity for violence, his need of blood. Holding the image and the instincts in his mind, his face shifted.
He turned to Cordelia, as if to verify the act since the image could not be shown to him.
She smiled.
He had never experienced that reaction before. Sure, she had shown him over the past few days that someone could accept him, that his demonic face could be endured, overlooked. But a smile? No, his monster’s face had never elicited that reaction, ever.
With great concentration, he slipped back into his human face once again, enjoying the ability, the returning sensation of control. “So Wesley knew. All this time he knew.”
“I think he thought he was protecting you,” she tried to make excuses for Wesley. She owed him that, after spilling his secret. “Maybe he knew that no one could bring you out of it. That only you could decide when you were ready.”
Wesley was wrong. He hadn’t brought himself out of anything. It had been Cordelia. Her acceptance, her stupid, blind faith, her presence in the hotel, her body beneath his.
He smiled down at her and her breath caught in her throat. She could feel her pulse jumping wildly in her neck. Angel smiling in demon-face was cute and endearing. Angel smiling with a sinful mouth, dark eyes and a face that belonged on the cover of magazines melted straight through to the core.
He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, his eyes never leaving hers, the small smile still gracing his face. Ever so slowly he lowered his head to hers and kissed her softly on the mouth. Cordelia would have never thought that a kiss like that, mouths closed, eyes open, short and sweet, could ever be described as passionate. But it was. Because it was full of feeling, full of promises and unspoken words.
“Thanks,” he breathed against her lips. He knew that she would misunderstand it, think that his gratitude would be for the kiss, their night together, or her companionship during his healing. How could he explain to her that she had done this, that no one in the world except Cordelia could have done it? She was the only human he had ever encountered that would have accepted him as he was. Not the handsome face staring down at her now, many humans had accepted him when he wore that particular façade. But she had accepted him at his worse. Made love to him as the evidence of what lay inside him stared down into her face.
And he loved her. He knew it shouldn’t be possible. He’d never believed in love that much, not as a human and not as a vampire, and he had known her for so little a time. But nonetheless, he loved her.
“I think I should be thanking you,” she breathed a little dazed after the kiss. She smiled back up at him, playful.
Angel couldn’t chase away his happiness. No matter how hard he tried. Her family drama, the fact that Cordelia would probably never love him, Wesley’s lie, mysterious assailants, none of those things could make him brood, not tonight. Not with some feeling of control back in his existence and especially not with Cordelia standing in front of him, naked under the draping of a sheet, smiling at him with a teasing grin. He wouldn’t think of what the night meant to her, couldn’t bear it if what she felt was mere comfort, company. He couldn’t analyze, not tonight. Reaching out, he tugged the sheet free from the grasp of her hands.
***
Cordelia pressed the pencil to the paper and crossed out the second to last of the long list of contacts her father had in L.A.. She stared down at the last one, a sense of dread filling her at the possibility of failure. What if it was a dead end? How would they ever find her father?
Cordelia had started the morning by calling Angela, her father’s former secretary. She had been wonderful, supplying Cordelia with contacts she had never known existed. Not that she had ever paid that much attention to her father’s affairs anyway. But the optimism that bloomed after talking to Angela began to wilt fast as each contact proved to be of no use.
She stared out of the office, through the glass and into the empty lobby, daydreaming about her night with Angel. They had made love one more time before she fell asleep, her head cradled against his chest. She felt a thrill run through her at the thought of his hands on her, hers on him. The night had been ecstasy, pure and simple. She had wanted it. Had wanted him to be her rock during the storm that was brewing in her life. But he had produce an entirely new storm, a new dilemma.
What had it been? What had it meant to him?
She had awoke to the sun streaming through the open balcony of her room, panic had struck her first as she looked toward the sunlit, empty spot next to her on the disheveled bed. Her panic faded quickly as she eyed the note laying next to her on the sheet. It had read…
Gone to find out what I can. Make a list of all the old contacts you remember of your father’s. I know it seems doubtful he would be in touch with them, but we have to look at every possibility. Don’t worry. We’ll find him.
A
She had caught herself in a little sigh at his stealthy departure from her room. “Well, what would you have preferred?” she had asked herself aloud as she sat in the morning light, the note in her hand, “Angel reduced to dust beside you, or Angel searching for Dad?” Neither she had concluded. She had wanted to wake up the same way she had fallen asleep. But Angel had made a promise. And he would keep it.
Shaking herself mentally and picking up the receiver, Cordelia punched in the numbers with the eraser before replacing the bitten pencil in her mouth, her perfect teeth chewing with unconscious nervousness. There would be other roads to take, this didn’t necessarily have to lead to her father.
“Wolfram and Hart. How may I direct your call?”
Cordelia yanked the pencil from her mouth and threw it to the desk, “Well, I’m not sure really. I’m tracing a business contact. Clinton Chase. He’s about 5’11 with….”
“I’m sorry. We’re not at liberty to discuss our clients with….”
“He’s not a client,” Cordelia interrupted desperately and tried to calm her voice. “One of his former partners oversaw a merger for the firm, he helped with the final billing. He was only at your offices once or twice according to his secretary,” she tried to sound professional, hoping that would help. “In late August of last year. The company he represented was Madison Inc.. Clinton Chase,” she said the name again.
She heard the woman take a deep, exasperated breath. “This is a very large firm Ms….?”
Cordelia sat silently for a moment, she couldn’t say ‘Chase’. “Price,” she offered.
“Ms. Price, this is a very large firm. They handle mergers on a daily basis. I’m sorry, but there is no way we can help,” the phone clicked.
Cordelia was frozen with the receiver in her hand. It wasn’t until the annoying buzzing staccato jolted her to her senses that she laid the receiver back down. Well, that was that. She looked down at the useless list and grabbed it, crumbling it in frustration and sending it sharply into the trashcan beside the desk.
She lowered her head into her hands. She was glad at that moment that no one was in the hotel. Angel had gone to find out what he could, hopefully through the sewers and in very dark places, she mused. Wesley, Gunn and Fred had gone to an occult bookshop on ninth. Wesley had spoke of an old tome he needed for his research, assuring Cordelia that when they, as well as Angel, returned that they would make a trip to the motel in which her father had been staying. He practically begged Fred to go with him to the shop, excited when she accepted, disappointed when Gunn had tagged along.
None of them had seen Angel that morning. He had slipped out of the hotel silently. Cordelia had not had the heart to tell any of them, especially Wesley, about what had happened. She’d passed enough personal information and opinions between them, they would have to work out the rest themselves.
She had been sitting in a depression for at least twenty minutes, unable and unsure as to what to do next, when the phone beside her jolted her body, its piercing echo giving her a gush of adrenaline. “Hello,” she breathed heavily from the scare of the ring.
“Ms. Price?” a male voice on the other end asked.
Price? Wolfram and Hart? “Yes,” she barely got out.
“I’m so glad I caught you. I was passing by the front desk on my way back from a meeting when I heard one of the interns telling another that someone was looking for Clinton Chase.”
“Yes, that was me,” she struggled to contain her hope. Just a trail, just a crumb.
“I remember him,” the man seemed to pause.
Was that it? All?
“He’s not in any trouble is he?” the man asked innocently.
Cordelia wanted to laugh hysterically. Was he in any trouble? It was such a painful comment, a question that ripped at her heart. “Not from me,” she answered truthfully.
“Can I ask why you’re looking for him?”
“I’m working on the behalf of a long, lost relative,” truth in its own way again.
“Well,” he seemed to mull over his answer, “then I might be able to help you. My name is Lindsay McDonald. I’m an associate here. Clinton helped close a merger of mine last year,” he lied. He hadn’t been anywhere near the merger. “Great guy. Listen,” he paused for a second, “I’ve got an eleven o’clock. Can you come in about one? I’ll try to remember all I can,” he promised.
Cordelia’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. It was just a crumb, she reminded herself. But it was something. “Of course.”
“Great, see you then, Ms. Price,” the line went dead again.
Cordelia shuffled quickly through Wesley’s desk, finding the yellow pages and thumbing through the three-inch attorney section. She scribbled down the address for Wolfram and Hart and placed the book back in the drawer.
Should she wait on Angel? She glanced at the blackened windows, knowing that Angel probably wouldn’t fare too well just past noon on the streets of L.A.. She had no idea when the others would return. She glanced at her watch, at the door, to the stairs. She had to go, she couldn’t wait. The thought to call Gunn on his cell slipped through her brain and passed away quickly. The truth of it was she was glad they were all gone. She wanted to go alone, wanted this crumb for herself. She had depended on too many people for too long. The information she would get wouldn’t be much, but at least she would feel as if she had helped in some way, had contributed something worthwhile.
Opening the desk drawer again, Cordelia’s fingers found the first listing under taxi service.
***
“Well?” Holland Manners asked Lindsay with some impatience as the young lawyer was ushered into the plush office.
“She’s coming to meet me at one.”
“You’re sure it’s her,” he stated with skepticism.
“She used a false name, but it was her.”
Holland thought for a moment before speaking again. “See what you can find out. This…Angel may be more valuable to us than we think. We should tread carefully. If he is what we think, what our seers say he is, we certainly don’t want to destroy him. Not if we want to recruit him.”
Lindsay nodded his head with a mumbled, “Yes, sir,” before turning to go.
“And Lindsay,” Holland called out, halting Lindsay’s quick exit. “HE is important to us. The girl and her father are nothing to us. Bait, chum for the shark. Do we understand one another?”
“Yes, sir,” Lindsay mumbled again before leaving the office.
***
Angel traveled quickly through the sewer, heading back to the hotel. He hadn’t been able to find out anything from the underbelly of L.A. and felt a deep regret at having to return to Cordelia without any information. He knew that by now she had probably gone through the list of her father’s contacts, disappointed at the lack of information she was sure to have gotten. He felt a little guilty about that, the dead-end task he knew he had given her, but he wanted her there, at the hotel when he returned. She would insist on going with them to the motel near the airport of course, to talk to the employees or see if Angel could pick up anything, but at least he would be with her then, able to protect her.
He slipped from human visage to demon and then back again. It had been a practice he had imposed on himself as he walked the sewers alone. Making sure that he was gaining back his control, making sure that the miracle didn’t slip away. He had done the exact same thing several times as he watched Cordelia sleep in his arms during the dark, early morning hours. It had been torture looking at her, wondering what their night had been to her. He had asked her on the balcony to stay with him, but he knew that even if she did it would only be temporary.
She was too alone and vulnerable to make a promise like that to him, and he had been a selfish bastard to take advantage of that. But he wanted her, and for now he had her. Even so, Angel had walked the earth enough to know what would happen in the end, what should happen. As soon as they found her father things would change. Cordelia would have a piece of her old life back, a reminder of who and what she was. She wouldn’t stay, not for the length of time or for the reasons Angel wanted her to. And he would have to let her go. Despite the fact that he felt as if she belonged to him, as if he belonged to her.
The thought made him wish her father far away, unable to be found, or worse. He closed his eyes against that desire. Cordelia could never be happy without at least knowing her dad was safe. And so Angel would make it so.
Angel opened the sewer entrance and entered the hotel, at once his senses flared, his demon raged. She was gone. Suddenly the thought of their assailants crossed his mind. Damn it! An unforgivable mistake. He strode purposely into the lobby, trying to pick up the freshest scent she had left, afraid of what he might find. Terror gripped him. He should have stayed with her. He turned to the office, entered the glass door with frantic urgency. What if more had come? What if….?
Looking down at the desk, he saw a scribbled note.
Got a lead! Be back soon.
Cordelia
P.S. Don’t worry!
Angel growled, crumbling the scrap of paper and tossing it so hard the metal trashcan slid two feet and hit the wall. He tried to stay calm. Lifting his head slightly, he tried to sense the other’s presence. Maybe they had gone with her? It was certainly a possibility. In fact it was probably exactly what had happened. They were all probably at that very moment sitting in some sterile office, asking about a man that no one probably cared to remember about. It was a safe enough outing. Wasn’t it? And even if there was any kind of trouble, at least she had Gunn with her.
But that thought just seemed to make things worse. Angel didn’t want to picture Gunn helping Cordelia, saving Cordelia, being flashed an outstanding smile of thanks by Cordelia.
He shook his head and walked back into the lobby. He wasn’t angry at Gunn. He was angry at himself. He shouldn’t have left that morning the way he had. A note? They had just had a night he’d remember for an eternity and he had left her a note. He should have stayed, at least until she had awoke. But the sun had been minutes away from the open doors of her room, and besides, he knew he wasn’t strong enough to look at her face if it had shown any regret at what they had done. He also knew he would not have been strong enough to hide exactly what the night had meant to him.
So he had taken the coward’s way out. As always. Leave a note and make a grand gesture like finding her father instead of facing the morning after. He knew that whatever regrets she might have about the night would be deeply hidden from him as long as he was searching for her father, offering his own protection for the man. Another proof positive of his selfishness at his use of that fact.
Angel sat himself down on the crimson sofa, then stood, paced and sat down again. He’d wait for them. He’d practice patience, just as he had practiced the change of his face. It might be a foreign quality to him – patience – but it would become more and more comfortable with practice.
Just sit here and wait. She would be back soon and he would not be angry. She didn’t believe he was a monster, an animal, and so he would not, for her sake, act as one.
He stood again, paced again, sat again. Repeating the action several times. Repeating the word ‘patience’ between gritted teeth with each angry stride.
***
Cordelia leaned over slightly on the leather sofa in the contemporary and tasteful waiting area, catching a glimpse of herself in the shaded glass of the office. She reached her hand up and brushed her fingers over her cheek and temple. She had done what she could with make-up, but she knew that the hint of a nasty bruise still showed through. Sighing, she leaned back straight and smoothed her hands over her skirt.
She had had just enough time to change into something a little more professional before the cab had arrived. The drive over she spent touching up her foundation, trying desperately to cover the bluish-green injury to her face. It hadn’t worked completely but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t expect Mr. McDonald to take anyone with a pair of dark shades on seriously, she only hoped that her black eye didn’t make him uncomfortable.
“Ms. Price, Mr. McDonald will see you now,” the secretary smiled.
“Thanks,” Cordelia smiled back, stood and entered the office.
“Ms. Price,” a young and handsome man in a very tasteful suit greeted her, ushering her to the chair in front of his desk. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Thank you for seeing me. I know you must be very busy.”
Lindsay McDonald sat on the edge of his desk, looking down at her, “Not at all. I’ll be glad to help your client in any way I can. Although it has been a long time since I’ve seen Mr. Chase. You said you were working for a family member?”
“In a way. His daughter. She needs to find him. It’s very important to her.”
Lindsay seemed to stare at her for a moment as if he were thinking of what he should say next. “That’s a nasty bruise,” he reached out and she turned her head down and away, shocked by his bluntness.
Lindsay pulled his hand back, “There’s not much I can tell you,” he seemed to easily ignore his own loss of business etiquette. “He closed a deal for us, we all went to lunch together. That’s about it.”
Cordelia’s heart sank. He could have told her that on the phone. Half of a precious day wasted. “I see,” she was defeated. “Well,” she tried to brighten her tone and stood, “Thanks for your time anyway.”
“Ms. Price,” he called out and stood from his desk as she walked to the door. “There may be another way I can help,” Cordelia paused a few steps from the door and watched as Lindsay rounded the desk and picked up his phone. “Lisa, get me Research and Investigation,” he ordered politely.
Cordelia’s eyes shown with eagerness at what she thought his order might mean. He was going to help her.
“Frank. Lindsay McDonald, Special Projects. I need to find someone,” Lindsay smiled at her and motioned for her to sit down.
Cordelia couldn’t help the hope that sprung up inside of her at his gesture, she beamed back and took her previous seat.
“Clinton Chase, former Sunnydale, California resident. Missing….” he raised his eyebrows in question to Cordelia.
“About a week,” she stretched the days.
“About a week,” he parroted. “Salt and pepper hair, hazel eyes, about five ten, five eleven. Last seen at…” he looked at her again.
“Logan’s Motor Inn and Suites,” she supplied, her brow furrowing slightly at Lindsay’s accurate physical description of her father.
Lindsay supplied the man on the other end of the line with the little information they had along with some more small facts Cordelia gave him during the conversation before hanging up the phone.
“How did you know what my…client’s father looks like? It’s been almost a year since you’ve seen him.”
“I told you, I remember him,” he seemed to answer easily and she tried to convince herself that it was nothing more. “Frank will want to interview the daughter. It’ll help out in the investigation.”
“Oh,” she hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t as if she had an aversion to letting the man in front of her know that she was actually the daughter, but she had started with a lie, an unnecessary one, and it was a little embarrassing. “Actually…”
“Let me guess,” he smiled sympathetically. “You’re the daughter.”
“How….?”
“I told you, I remember him, and those eyes are definitely his.”
It seemed impossible, but he must be telling the truth. How else could he know? “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know why I lied. I guess I thought being an agent might convince someone to help me more than being just a girl looking for her dad,” she shrugged.
He gave a small laugh, his perfect, white teeth flashing at her. “It’s alright. But just for the record, I would have helped, either way.”
She smiled again, grateful that he had dismissed her white lie so easily, made an effort to make her comfortable. “Well, I guess I should talk to your investigator.”
“Nah, let him get the preliminaries out of the way first. In a day or two, after he’s combed over the motel and interviewed any witnesses or workers, we’ll set an appointment.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said.
“I do,” he answered quickly. “Do you like sushi? There’s a place not far from here, Kyoto,” when she seemed hesitant he used his best persuasive voice. The one that won him every case he had taken. “I’m starving and I’d love it if you’d have lunch with me. In fact, now that I think of it, Kyoto is where your dad and I had lunch.”
If she had been hesitant before, he had found the spark to light her interest with the mention of her father. And she was famished after all. And the little Japanese restaurant was, from her knowledge gained from every magazine she read, one of the hot spots in L.A.. Mr. McDonald might even remember something more being in a place where he had talked with her father. He might remember another contact or high powered name thrown out into conversation, a lead that might find her dad. “Alright,” she conceded.
Lindsay smiled his shiny smile again and picked up the phone. Cordelia thought that she should find him handsome with his boyish good looks and expensive suite. In fact, he would have been the perfect man for the old Cordelia. But for some reason her tastes had changed. His eyes were too light, his build not quite large enough. His hair was too tailored, too tame. And his perfect smile reminded her of a shark more than, well, a perfect smile. Not too mention the fact that he was a lawyer. Even though he was helping her, and her gratitude was immense, she couldn’t imagine him protecting market women or saving children or secretly giving donations to needy shelters.
Even now he was making sure she knew he would help, coaxing a lunch from her that he knew because of his assistance she wouldn’t decline. And she wasn’t blind to the fact that his eyes had slipped several times to her bare skirted legs, had taken her in when he thought she wasn’t looking as he spoke with his secretary on the line. But Cordelia was desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures. If he was using his power to find her father in order to impress her, then she wasn’t beyond a little flirting in order to have his help. After all, it was a practiced skill, one she detested now, but one she was more than willing to use.
“Well, I’m free for the rest of the day. Kyoto sometimes takes a small wait,” was his flimsy excuse for canceling the rest of his day. “Do you mind leaving your car here? I thought I’d drive us over.”
“I took a cab.”
“Perfect,” he walked over to her and she stood, allowing him to open the door. “Just one more thing,” he paused just outside of his office.
“Yes?”
“I refuse to call you Ms. Price again.”
She smiled politely, “Cordelia, Cordelia Chase.”
A sense of dread and guilt washed over her as they walked down the hall. She should have called the hotel. She knew Angel would be furious when he returned and read the note. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t called. He never seemed to want her to leave the hotel without someone with her.
But she was a grown woman for goodness sakes. If she wanted to meet with an old business contact of her father’s, have lunch in broad daylight with him to discuss finding her dad, then she had every right to do just that. Angel didn’t own her.
Or did he?
He seemed to think he did. In a charming sorta idiotic kinda way.
He wouldn’t be mad. He would understand and be proud of the progress made in the search for her father.
She considered that fact for a moment, matched it with the manpire she was beginning to know so well. Her dread began to consume her.
Angel was going to be pissed.
***
It was near five when Wesley, Gunn, and Fred arrived back at the hotel. Their short errand had turned to a day of treating Fred to L.A., neither of the two men able to deny her excited, young face anything. It had been wonderful to watch her emerging from her shell, but Wesley was drastically behind now and he wanted to get right to work researching his newest book. Not to mention that they were also supposed to help Cordelia locate her father.
Wesley stopped suddenly as he stepped inside, his two friends falling in behind. “Angel?” Wesley’s mouth gaped open at the sight of Angel, pacing the lobby furiously, his face smooth and handsome.
“I should have guessed she wasn’t with you,” his voice was low and menacing. He never looked at Gunn, Wesley, and Fred as they stood shocked still inside the doorway of the hotel. His paces quickened, lengthened. “I give her a simple job. One. Safe. Simple. Dull. Job,” he bit. “I should have known she wouldn’t just sit here and wait. Of course, she is Clinton Chase’s daughter,” he groused. “I guess I shouldn’t expect her to stay out of trouble.”
“Angel, your face,” Fred breathed. No one replied. Angel might be in his human face, but he was dangerous, pacing back and forth like a kept lion, just waiting for the lock on his cage to snap.
“Cordelia isn’t here?” Wesley inquired, ignoring for the moment Angel’s appearance.
“Does it look like she’s here?” he finally turned his cold eyes to Wesley, remembering the secret.
“Maybe she just stepped out for a while, Angel,” Fred tried, taking the cue from Wesley to ignore Angel’s obvious change.
“No, because that would be simple. That would be safe. She’s gone looking for her dad. The same man that risked her life, that forced her to go groveling for his own life, forced her to come here and risk herself for him. She just doesn’t see. It won’t end. He’ll never change and she will always pay a price for trying to help him,” he rumbled.
“Oh dear,” Wesley ventured closer into the room, watched as Gunn entered easily and plopped down on the red sofa next to Angel’s trail of fury, pretending not to be alarmed. Wesley wished he had Gunn’s air. “She should have waited for us, trusted us to go with her.”
“Maybe you don’t instill that much trust,” Angel turned his anger toward Wesley.
He knew. Obviously. He had figured it out. Healed himself. Or Cordelia had told him. “Angel…” Wesley began to explain.
“Not now,” he almost growled. “It’s not important. Right now, the only important thing is finding Cordelia.”
A car door caught the attention of everyone in the room, even Gunn. Angel paced as close to the door as he dared, careful to avoid what sunlight that would pour in when Cordelia….. Angel growled……or whatever man she was with, opened the door.
***
The food had been delicious, the company only tolerable. Lindsay, as he insisted several times that she call him, seemed to want to talk about everything but her father. His job. His great apartment. His fabulous car. His this, his that.
She had sat across from him, regretting her acceptance of his lunch invitation the entire time. Luckily she was able to zone out through most of the meal. It didn’t take much concentration to listen to a one sided conversation. The only time she had been forced back into focusing was when he inquired about her bruised eye again. She explained it away. Walked into a door. Typical battered woman answer. He probably thought she had some bad-boy boyfriend with a penchant for violence.
Did she? Angel hadn’t been the one to strike her. On the contrary, he had been the one to take care of her. But the description, ‘bad-boy boyfriend, with a penchant for violence’ seemed to fit.
Except for the boyfriend part.
That was silly. He wasn’t her boyfriend. They were attracted to each other. They were becoming friends. Okay, more than friends and they were EXTREMELY attracted to each other. And their night together had been one she would never forget, never regret. He was sweet and dangerous and sexy and strong. She stared off in a daze, a smile creeping across her face as she numbered his qualities.
“…..Cordelia,” Lindsay’s voice registered in her mind.
“I’m sorry,” she shook herself.
“We’re here. This is the right place, isn’t it?” he pretended to look surprised at where she was staying.
“Yes, I know it doesn’t look all that welcoming. But it’s home.” Why had that word slipped out so easily?
Cordelia thought she saw a disturbing look cross Lindsay’s face before he got out of the car. But it was gone when he opened her door for her, his ever present ‘smile of the shark’ back in place.
“Thanks.”
The two walked silently in the early evening sun to the doors of the hotel. When it was obvious that Cordelia had no intentions of inviting him in, Lindsay brought out another tactic. “You know, I forgot to mention it before, but it would really help if you had a picture of your father. I could get it to Frank tonight and he could show it around.”
It made sense. It was a good idea. And she had one in the solitary bag she had brought with her to the hotel when she first arrived. She took a deep breath for courage. “Alright, come in and I’ll get it for you.”
Cordelia blinked her eyes for a moment, adjusting her vision from the bright western sun to the dimly lit interior of the hotel lobby. The sight that met her was not a pretty one.
Fred sat on the hotel counter, twisting her hands together with nervousness, Wesley stood beside her, looking just as uneasy, while Gunn reclined back on the round sofa, pretending not to look between Cordelia and her companion. Angel stood just inside the door way, the tips of his boots just millimeters away from the bright sun that poured in from the street outside, as if he had known exactly where the rays would land and had gotten as close as he could.
His arms were folded across his broad chest and a muscle twitched at his temple. His face was human, handsome and beautiful, but his eyes were cold and hard, boring a hole straight through her.
Cordelia froze, swallowed to alleviate her suddenly dry throat.
Angel’s eyes held her for a moment, letting her see the weight of his anger, before turning to the man at her side.
“Angel,” Cordelia said slowly, cautiously, just as one might a snarling dog. “This is Lindsay McDonald. My father closed a deal for him a while back.”
Angel just stared at the man. Lindsay gave a small, satisfactory grin at the name ‘Angel’ despite the fear of being so close to the vampire. “Nice to meet you,” he smirked.
Angel was as still as stone, a snake ready to strike.
“Lindsay,” she continued. “This is Angel, my….friend,” she struggled to define him.
That word struck Angel like an arrow.
“I was worried about you,” he accused, his eyes still locked on Lindsay as if waiting for the man to move.
“I’m sorry,” and she meant. On some level she had known how he would react. “I just got so excited when I finally found someone who would talk to me about my dad. I should have called.”
“You should have waited,” he finally looked back at her and she felt the full force of his rage, his worry.
Deciding that it would be better, healthier and less embarrassing to continue the discussion with Angel in private, Cordelia decided to do what she could to get rid of her escort. “I’ll just go get the picture,” she turned to Lindsay and said quietly.
“What picture?” Angel reached out and grabbed Cordelia’s arm as she tried to pass, growling at her.
She looked at him now with her own level of anger, jerking her arm away from him. “Lindsay’s firm has a department they use to investigate cases. He’s going to help me find my dad,” she hadn’t meant her voice to sound so brittle, but he had hurt her arm with his stupid vampire strength and he was embarrassing her in front of someone who didn’t know that he was a dumbass. And after his display, she was afraid that Lindsay might believe her black eye WAS the product of a jealous boyfriend. That she was the type of woman that would actually let something like that happen.
Angel looked at her, the rage in his eyes turning to something else, hurt, betrayal. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes trying to apologize while the childish part of her brain screamed, ‘He started it!’ Finally, she turned to the stairs, Fred trailing after her.
Angel turned back to Lindsay. The lawyer felt himself tremble a little and took a step back, closer to freedom, raising his chin as if that would fool the vampire into believing he wasn’t afraid. “It’s my fault really,” he goaded.
“I know,” Angel answered quickly.
“I mean, after our long meeting in my private office, I convinced her to have lunch with me. She’s a remarkable young lady,” he was baiting a tiger, but it was his job.
“I know,” Angel voice was so soft Lindsay could barely hear him, though the warning was coming through loud and clear. Angel never let the blow that she had gone out with the man show. Gunn finally walked up to stand behind Angel for support he probably didn’t need, their crossed arms and defensive stance mirroring each other.
Lindsay stood his ground, they wouldn’t harm him, not with Cordelia in the hotel, he assured himself. But he at least had a new piece of information to offer his boss, a new Achilles Heel of Angel’s. Cordelia wasn’t just one of the humans he protected, lived with. He loved her. And he was warning any male, especially Lindsay away from her. Lindsay’s sly smile grew just a bit. They could use that. And when his company got Angel in their clutches, Cordelia would be his. The stupid vampire just didn’t know that yet.
“Here’s the picture,” Cordelia came back down the stairs alone and glanced back and forth between Angel and Lindsay as they stared each other down, then to Gunn who had joined the battle of testosterone. She rolled her eyes and turned to Lindsay, ignoring the fuming men behind her. “Should I call tomorrow, set up an appointment with Frank?” she asked, focusing on the most important problem at hand first.
“No,” he said softly and turned to her. “Call me personally,” he reached into his coat pocket and took out his business card and a pen, scribbling a couple of numbers and an address on the back. “This is my private number, cell and address. Contact me when you can, soon I hope,” he added. “I’ll handle everything with Frank. I know it’s been difficult not knowing where your father is, if he’s dead or alive,” he was drawing blood now, purposely hurting Cordelia in front of Angel.
Her eyes glistened just a little but she blinked the emotion away. Her father was alive.
“But don’t worry. I’ll find him for you,” he glanced at Angel.
“We’re all trying,” she didn’t know why she felt defensive on Angel’s behave. Lindsay couldn’t have known that Angel was looking for her father too. “Thanks for helping us. And I’m sorry for all this,” she glanced back angrily at Gunn, Angel, and a belated Wesley who had finally joined the flock, arms crossed as the others.
“It’s okay. If I were Angel, I’d have been worried too. Don’t apologize. I think your friend and I understand each other now. After all, our goals are the same.” Cordelia was the only one who thought the goal was her father.
“We understand each other perfectly,” Angel finally said.
Lindsay touched Cordelia’s arm affectionately. She wanted to jerk away but refused to give her audience satisfaction.
Angel stared at the hand that had touched her. Right, he noted. And then watched in silence as the man left his hotel.
“I have never been so embarrassed in my life! That man is a business contact!” she paced in front of the three, glad that Fred had strayed to her room instead of coming back down, witnessing her total embarrassment. “An important one!” she added. “Do you have a lead on my father?”
Angel just stared at her, unrepentant.
“I didn’t think so! I know I should have called, and I’m sorry. But you, you don’t even wait for an explanation,” she shook her head in disgust. What was she doing? “Ya know what? You don’t deserve one either,” she stalked up the stairs.
“Man, you just stood there and let that dude rub it in your face, man,” Gunn finally said when Cordelia was safely up the stairs.
Angel didn’t answer, he couldn’t. None of them, even Cordelia could understand what it had taken to keep still, to not rip out Lindsay McDonald’s throat right in front of them. He couldn’t have moved any closer to the man, not even for intimidation as he knew Gunn was suggesting. If he had moved, there would be no stopping. And it had cost him too. He could feel the unreleased violence swirling in his head, clouding his control. He turned and walked toward the staircase and up to his suite.
Wesley watched as he went. He wanted to talk to Angel, explain things. But after the last few moments that had passed by, he knew better. Their conversation, or his pummeling, would have to wait.
***
Cordelia was stewing. She had been sorry about her actions, her thoughtlessness in not letting the others know where she was. She would have worried if it had been one of them, had worried when it had been Angel who had left without a word.
A thud and a crash from the floor above brought her eyes to the ceiling. A crack, a shatter, then another heavy thud had her racing to the door and up one flight to Angel’s room. She pushed the door open quickly; her first thought was fear for Angel, his safety. She stood stunned in his doorway.
The mahogany bookshelf lay on the floor, its contents strewn about the room along with several other broken items. Angel paced the room, his booted feet crunching broken glass.
“Angel?” she breathed.
“Go away,” he warned, desperation in his voice. Thoughts of her laughing in a restaurant with the little troll and thoughts of what her future held, her normal future, mixed and swirled together. He knew she would leave someday, seek out a normal life, but that jackass downstairs had given that life a face, a scent. And Angel’s instincts were on his trail now, on the hunt. He warred internally between right and wrong.
She closed her eyes, she hadn’t wanted to fight with him, but he’d been such a jerk about it. She turned to go and reached out for the doorknob, Angel’s hand was there stopping her. She froze in place, feeling his chest against her shoulder blades. They both stayed that way, the only thing breaking silence was her rapid breath.
He was going to lose her, either way, whether it was by his failure to protect her or by his inhuman possessive, temper. When her father was found, when HE found her father, she would go. If she had been wavering in that decision before, he had just made up her mind by his behavior. He knew it.
“Don’t go,” he whispered finally against her neck. He meant from him, from his life, from the hotel, from the room. “I’ll behave,” he backed away slowly and she turned to look at him. “I want you to explain,” he tried softly.
“Are you through with your tantrum,” an eyebrow arched on her angry face.
He nodded and sat purposefully on the end of the bed, hoping he told the truth, that nothing she said would make him a liar.
“Well,” she breathed and began to slowly pace in front of him. “I did what you ordered,” she emphasized the last word with a pointed look before continuing. “I called my dad’s old secretary and got a list of all his old contacts. No one helped of course. In that world, catching poverty’s like catching the plague. The last contact on the list was Lindsay’s firm, Wolfram and Hart.”
The name pricked at him for some reason, a fleeting memory, but he couldn’t interrupt her, not now that she was offering to tell him.
“Anyway, they weren’t helpful at first either. But after I had hung up, about fifteen or twenty minutes later, the phone rang. It was Lindsay. He said he’d over heard some of the conversation and when he’d found out they were talking about my dad, he remembered the name, had done business with him last year.”
“Just like that,” he mumbled because he couldn’t stop himself.
“Yes, just like that,” she was defensive. She knew Lindsay’s story sounded ridiculous, unlikely, but it was something and she would believe in it. “He said he might be able to help if I could come in and meet with him. You were gone. Wesley and Gunn and Fred were gone. I had the first solid lead on my father.”
“I don’t see how a man who happened to remember your father at his offices a long time ago can be a solid lead in finding him now, Cordelia. And how did he know the number to call? And why would a busy attorney volunteer to help, just like that?”
“Caller I.D.?”
“Caller what?”
“Never mind. I know you’re suspicious. I know you think most humans are bad or selfish. But there are actually some good ones out there.” Not that she really thought Lindsay was one of them. Her internal alarm said he wasn’t. But she could ignore that alarm if it meant she’d find her father.
“I don’t think most are bad or selfish. Just afraid. And humans can be very dangerous when their scared, make rash decision, hurt the other before they hurt them. I know you want to find your father, Cordelia, but this man is not the way. It’s not a good idea.”
“How can having access to an investigator not be a good idea? Shouldn’t we use every resource available, look at every possibility?” she reminded him of his note.
“He’s a shark, Cordelia.”
“He’s a lawyer,” she dismissed and sat down with a sigh of defeat beside him on the bed. “Look, Angel. I’m not crazy about the guy either.”
“He’s attracted to you,” he wanted her to know.
“Pfft, I knew that the moment I walked into his office.”
“And you went to lunch with him?” Angel stood, began his own pacing. “Probably flirted with him, let him get a real good look at those great knees in that goddamn skirt!”
“That’s not fair!” she shot up from the bed “I’m a grown woman, Angel. Maybe not according to you ‘Mr. I’ll live forever’, but I am. And I made my own decision. I’m not weak!”
“No one said you were!”
“I can take care of myself, have for a long time. I wanted to help and I did. Me. All by my little mortal self.”
“Cordelia,” he felt defeated and sat down on the bed again. It hadn’t dawned on him that she had needed to help, feel a little control back in her own life. Part of her that he loved the most was her bravery, her independence. It was after all what had brought her to him. And probably what would drive her away, too. He sat in silence for a moment. She stood. The moment stretched, but neither was uncomfortable, just emotionally drained.
“I hope you find my father, Angel,” she broke the silence quietly. “I hope WE do,” she corrected. “I trust you more than anyone else, believe it or not. But I have to try everything.”
She’d be less than she was if she didn’t. He knew that. She would work with him or anyone else she could to save someone she loved. It was who she was. She would brave sleazy lawyers, loan shark demons, and even an emotionally stunted vampire to get back her dad. And when he was found she would go. And why wouldn’t she? He’d scared her into staying the first night. Made her bargain her very soul for her father. Treated her like a prisoner, fulfilled his selfish desires when she was at her most vulnerable. She should go.
He sat at the end of the bed and reached his hand out to her, an offering, his beautiful face staring at her in the dimly lit room. He had her for now. And he was selfish after all. He would take what he could get.
Cordelia stared down at his large hand reaching to her, waiting for her to react. He was patient, his hand lingering in the silent, dim room. Patience with practice, he reminded himself.
Cordelia’s mind went from numb to racing at is unexpected action. She thought of her first night at the hotel, the way Angel had tested her, tried to warn her. She thought of the way she had found out who he truly was, what lay deep inside. His scene downstairs, the anger, the betrayal. Every thought, every feeling at that moment was of Angel. No one loved him. He was so alone, so angry at the world, so frightened. Her heart broke for him, for both of them.
The night before he had been her rock, her safe place. She gazed down at his hand. She had shaken him, worried him, and now he needed something solid to hold onto. Her feet carried her across the floor; her hand reached out and was engulfed by his strong one. He brought her hand up and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Will you promise me you won’t see him alone again?”
She nodded her head slowly. He looked so desperate. How could she not agree? He was hurting, no matter if there was a good reason for it or not. She could never do anything to hurt him on purpose. And it was such a simple concession. She could care less if she saw Lindsay McDonald on her own or with a crowd of people. The only thing that mattered was getting her father back. And erasing the hard look of pain from Angel’s eyes.
Pulling her closer, he trapped her hips between his legs, wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his head against her, just below her breast. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady beat of her heart, the thing that made her human. She should go, he reminded himself. He would let her. “I’m sorry, Cordelia. Humans aren’t the only dangerous creatures when they’re afraid.” And he was terrified. Terrified of what he’d be without her. Of what the world might do to her without him. Of her father, of the stupid lawyer’s interference. Afraid he would fail at finding her dad, that the shark toothed lawyer would succeed. Afraid of having to watch the gratitude and smile she would send the son-of-a-bitch’s way.
Cordelia thought she felt a tremor run through Angel’s body. She had been furious with him downstairs. But now, with his arms wrapped around her, admitting that he was simply afraid for her, he was melting her, breaking her heart. She couldn’t breathe, the weight of his emotions paralyzing her, the weight of hers confusing her. She didn’t know what to do, where to touch him, how to soothe him. The move had been so shocking, so desperate. She had been prepared for a fight. She had not been prepared to handle this. To handle Angel’s emotions. To handle her own.
Finally she reached up and stroked his hair with her hands. She heard him inhale deeply as if to take her in, his head nuzzled closer to her breast.
What would he do without her? His safe place. Would he turn back into the pathetic thing he’d been before she came? And what if this idiot she’d found today actually could find her father? What if he found him tomorrow?
So what. Angel had her tonight. He’d have to make it last a few lifetimes. He’d live out every sweet fantasy with her tonight. And then he’d let her go.
Strength drained from Cordelia’s body, her legs began to quiver slightly. Angel took the opportunity and moved his knee, pushing her weakened legs apart and pulling her down to his lap so she was straddling him. He clasped his hands around her waist, holding her exactly where he wanted her, gauging her reaction.
“Angel,” she breathed the plea. He wasn’t playing fair.
“I know that you’re going to leave when your father is found,” he confessed. “And deep inside, although I can’t seem to make myself accept it, I know it’s right.”
Cordelia opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it. Would she leave? She hadn’t really thought past finding her dad, setting him straight. And now she couldn’t sort out that problem and the way her chest seemed to cave in at the thought of leaving the hotel. The truth was she was just too damn tired to figure it all out.
His hopes sank at her silence. What had he expected? He already knew. “Just give me this, let me pretend that you could love me enough to stay. That this could be enough for you.”
“Angel, even if I left the hotel, we could still see each other,” she assured.
He shook his head. “You’d live a whole life without me in the daylight. You wouldn’t be able to stand that. And going by my reaction downstairs, neither could I. You’ll want sunshine and a husband and children. And that’s what you should want.”
“Don’t do this to me, Angel. It’s not fair. It’s cruel. How can you decide what’s right for me? I don’t even know what’s going to happen, yet. Don’t push me to decide now. And don’t decide for me,” she stared in his eyes, trying to ignore the way their bodies were pressed together at just the right spot. Tried desperately not to notice the way her skirt had ridden up and the way her body was responding with little shocks of pleasure at the feel of him beneath his trousers against her silk panties.
She was the one that was cruel, even though it was innocently so. She’d swooped into his life, pulled him out of darkness, given him hope, only to abandon him eventually. He watched as she opened her mouth again, to make some promise she couldn’t keep or to spit fire at him for treating her the way he had. He didn’t care. He couldn’t talk about it any longer. Didn’t want to. All that he wanted was for the fantasy to begin. He cut whatever she was going to say off with a savage kiss, his tongue coaxing her mouth open.
The kiss wasn’t foreplay, wasn’t temptation before sex. It was sex. Raw and rough and she matched it flame for flame. Her body began to writhe against him helplessly, bringing him instantly to life. When she lifted her head breathlessly, she saw that his hands had been busy, unbuttoning her blouse.
She helped him push the top from her shoulders and to the floor. He stared at her for a mere second, reached out, kneaded her full breast before breaking the front clasp and sending the scrappy lace to the rug.
It was impossible not to hold him close, press his cool and inviting mouth even closer as he took the hard peek of her nipple into his mouth. He made love to her breasts with his cool tongue, licking every curve, sucking and ravishing with passionate skill.
She arched back and clung to him. The heat between her legs melting and pooling into liquid fire with each wet, dragging stroke of his mouth. She writhed in his possessive grip as tension rose. “What are you doing to me, Angel?” she asked desperately. How could she think about their problems when he was doing such amazing things to her body?
“Living in my fantasy world, pretending you love me, making you mine,” he whispered before returning to his task.
Her body clenched with anticipation, lust, desire at his words. She wanted to be his. Wanted to be anything and everything for him.
He lifted his head slowly and pushed her gently up to her feet, keeping his seat on the edge of the bed. “Take the rest off for me,” he looked at her through layers of want and need. “I want to watch you do it,” he whispered. He didn’t know how much time he had left, how long it would take them to find her dad, and he had a lot of fantasies to fulfill. For both of them. He’d need those fantasies to chase away the years without her to come.
“Angel,” she pleaded weakly.
“My fantasy world. Indulge me. Give me something to keep the fantasy going when you leave. Offer yourself to me, Cordelia. So that I know you’re completely mine, even if it’s for now and not forever.”
Cordelia bit the quiver in her lower lip. Leave him? Could she?
She tried to be sensual, provocative, push down the emotions she couldn’t name. The ones that were making her hands tremble. She found the clasp of the skirt, let it slide to the floor. Her eyes held his as she hooked her fingers in the side of her lacy panties. Keeping her legs straight, she bent at the waist, sliding the small material down slowly. She rose gracefully, stepping with poise out of her heels. Reaching up, she gave him a generous view of her lifted, full breasts as she removed the clip that had held her mass of hair in a loose twist. She let the silken strands slide out and settle with a bounce around her shoulders and down her back. The brush of it was almost more than she could stand across her sensitized skin.
Her face was flushed with desire, not shame, as she stood before his hungry gaze, naked. She took a slow step forward.
“Stop,” he whispered. “Turn around,” he pleaded more than ordered.
She made a slow seductive circle, as graceful as a dancer. When she had turned completely, he was there, standing in front of her, their bodies mere threads apart. The first contact of his rough hands made her shiver. He cupped her breast, traced the curve of it while he stared at its perfection. His hand slid down tenderly over her ribcage, the indention of her waist, the curve of her hip, between her legs. She clutched him then, panting.
“Widen your legs for me,” he whispered. His voice sent a bolt of lightning through her body. She spread her legs a little wider.
He caressed her, teased across the small strip of short trim curls with his fingertips. Her fingers dug through the material of his shirt, grasping onto the thick muscles of his shoulders.
The slow stroke of his hand sending her into a frenzied fever, Angel bent over, circled her nipple with his tongue before sinking slowly to his knees, trailing kisses on her body during his slow descent. Removing his hand from between her legs, he grasped her hips and blew on her flushed folds before pressing his face to the damp readiness.
Her legs shook, threatened to give out. “I thought this was supposed to be your fantasy,” she gasped as she closed her eyes, her head thrown back.
He raised his head slightly and dropped a kiss on her thigh as he slipped his hand between her thighs again. “This is my fantasy,” he breathed it out as one finger probed at her soft flesh. She looked down at him with lazy, lust filled eyes. Too gone to care what any of it meant. Too high to analyze feelings or consequences. She couldn’t think about staying or leaving. He needed this. God, she needed it. Wanted the same thing he did. A fantasy of perfection to last the rest of her life.
He looked up at her, his eyes catching hers as he slowly inserted one finger into her silky wetness. “My fantasy is full of selfishness, Cordelia,” he warned, his finger never missing a beat of its deep, stoking dance. “I’m selfish enough to want you to love me, here, tonight, in this room. I want to hear you say it to me, even if you don’t mean it.”
His words barely registered in the haze of her mind as a second finger joined the first. “I want to make you come so hard that no one else will ever do for you. I want you to dream about this night for the rest of your life and wake up wet and hot for me, calling for me. That’s how selfish I am.”
He leaned in and licked the slick, soft crevice between her thighs. Her fist bunched the material of his shirt, keeping her from falling. His hand slipped away as he stood slowly, turning around with her and laying her atop the throw on the end of the bed.
She leaned back on her elbows, the anticipation killing her. They had had sex the night before, great sex. But this was so much more, so intense, so possessive, so full of sensations and feelings she could not name. He was taking things from her that she wasn’t sure she was ready to give; her heart, her soul. Would she ever leave? Could she? He had told her to offer herself to him, and she was, all of her. “Are you going to take your clothes off,” she tried not to sound breathless when she looked up at him, staring down at her.
He unbuttoned his shirt a little too quickly, throwing it in a ball to the floor. He began to lean over her reclined body. Her hand came to his chest, pushed him back slightly. “All of it,” she mocked is aching whisper.
He finished the job quickly, with none of the fluid grace she had had. He laid down on his side beside her, looked her over, drinking her in with his eyes, committing every curve to memory. His large hand reached out to touch her, traced her cheek, her lips, trailed down slowly to her breast, skimmed across her navel and settled back to the spot he had left hot and quivering, thrusting one finger back inside, withdrew it, thrust deeper. She cried out, squirmed around restlessly. His kisses followed the path his hand had traveled. Angel slipped silently to the floor in front of her, between her calves that dangled off the end of the mattress. Watched as his finger came out of her, slick and wet. He pulled her a little closer to the edge of the mattress. He kissed her inner thigh, “Say it now,” he whispered against her skin.
“What?” she panted. It took a minute for her clouded mind to remember what he wanted, what he had asked for. She cried out again when she felt his tongue lick her with a long, greedy stroke. He pushed her thighs wider, held her writhing body in place and licked her again. “Say it,” he whispered.
Her hands reached down, tangled in his coarse, thick hair as he licked yet another long stroke . “Oh god. Angel.”
He licked again and thrust his tongue deep. She cried out once more before breathlessly giving him what he wanted. “I love you,” she panted, gasped. “I love you.”
Her words struck him, urged him on. He was ravenous, she whimpered and struggled against the merciless lash and thrust of his tongue, tugged at his hair, pleading with him to stop, unsure if she could survive more.
He ignored her whimpers, her small sounds of protest, her sighs of pleasure. He held her without pity, felt her first tremor, his mouth never leaving her as the climax racked her body, clenched her muscles, made her sob in ecstasy.
Only then did he raise up, cover her body with his, satisfied in the way she trembled with little aftershocks. Angel rained tender kisses across her closed eyes, her cheek, jaw, lips. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, his deep brown eyes staring down at her. She reached up, looking at him as if finding out a deep hidden secret.
He wanted more, he wanted the fantasy complete, but with her eyes so soft and accepting, staring up at him, his nerve was wavering. He shook himself mentally, escaping whatever spell she was weaving. He had to have it. All or nothing tonight. He pressed himself to her entrance, hard, heavy, waiting. He stared down into her eyes. His face morphed under her touch, yellowed eyes replacing brown, jagged teeth marring his sinful mouth. She didn’t blink, didn’t gasp in shock, she simply stroked his hair, trailed fingertips across the ridges on his forehead, down his cheek.
“Now say it,” he looked down at her, his body absolutely still, waiting.
Cordelia raised her head up to meet his, kissed his lips softly and leaned back again. Her eyes were locked with his for a small moment in the silent room. “I love you,” she whispered with a new awe in her voice that he missed.
Her body accepted his with one sure thrust. That one strong move sent a shocking jolt of pleasure through her still shivering body. She gasped for air, for mercy as he began to move, thrusting with long, hard sure strokes, driving deeper, harder, welding them together.
She was spiraling again, going up in flames. How had she ever lived without such pleasure, without the man who was giving such pleasure to her? He was possessive and bossy and self-deprecating. But would she have him be any other way? Without those traits, he wouldn’t be what he was, what she!..Those things balanced his hidden sense of loyalty, his need to protect those he cared for, his guilt and knowledge of his capability for extreme violence.
Cordelia’s mind slipped away from serious thoughts, caught up in a whirling tornado of terrible need as he began to drive into her at a furious pace, bringing her again and again to shuddering, earth quaking ecstasy. Her muscles clenched over and over, gripping and milking him until he was no longer in control, until her body took his soaring with hers.
“Say it again,” his husky voice tore out the words as they both burst into a scorching flame, holding onto each other for dear life as they plummeted back to earth.
Angel buried his face in her shoulder, holding her tightly against him. Cordelia’s arms were locked around his neck, her body rippling endlessly, holding him inside of her.
The room was silent except for her ragged breaths that she struggled to bring under control. She could see the small dim light of dusk slipping away from them through the slit in the heavy drapes of his room. She closed her eyes; her arms tightening around him as she nuzzled the side of her face to his still buried head. “I love you,” she said softly, and meant it.
