Part 9
A roar vibrated in the intruders ears, reverberating off the dingy walls of the old hotel. Each man looked among themselves with questioning glances. It was supposed to be a simple vamp extraction. Nothing more. But the men were beginning to wonder if their employer had yet again deceived them.
As the unit turned, a dark figure dropped soundlessly to the lobby floor. A vampire, tall and muscular, dressed in black, dark hair dripping water onto the marbled floor stood before them. The demon’s eyes lingered on the fallen woman for a moment before turning their burning glare onto each of the men, settling on the one who had struck Cordelia. Marking him for death.
The man, sensing his fate, yelled an order, “Dart him!”
Three of the attackers raised their guns with lightning speed. But Angel’s movements were a mere blur. He dodged two of the darts. The third barely grazed the fabric of his shirt as he reached Cordelia’s attacker. Angel held the man captive with one hand around his neck, stared into his eyes, fed on his fear, watched as the shadow of death crept into the man’s face, and snapped his neck.
The body fell like a rag doll, thudding hard to the floor. The men faltered for a moment, unprepared for such an attack. Angel ignored them, his full attention on Cordelia as he bent down to her. The man on point took notice, used the vamp’s distraction as his moment for the perfect shot. He raised his gun, aiming straight for the neck. But before his finger squeezed the trigger, an arrow flew from the stairs, sinking deeply into the flesh of the intruder’s arm, sending a gush of blood down the appendage.
Angel didn’t have to look up to know that Charles Gunn had delivered the shot. His head rose to the remaining men, a growl vibrating from deep within his chest, his mouth opened in an animalistic snarl exposing his fangs.
Their leader injured, their confidence in the success of the mission fading, the unit slowly backed away, intent on fleeing their obvious death.
Angel sensed their fear and confusion, knew they would run. And when the man on point turned, Angel was already blocking his escape. Grabbing the lead man’s injured arm, Angel twisted. The already damaged limb popped, the only thing holding it in its socket was Angel’s iron grip. “Who sent you?” he growled between gritted fangs.
The man looked nervously to the two still humans on the floor. He’d never encountered a vamp like this before. One that seemed to fight with and for humans. “They’re not dead,” he said through the pain. “Just tranqed, not dead,” he repeated desperately, holding back a whimper.
Angel responded by grabbing the man’s good arm, twisting it until he heard another satisfying pop.
Gunn had to force himself to stay put on the stairs as the man howled in agony. He looked frantically passed Angel for help from his team, but his peers were gone, escaping into the night.
“You think that if I thought they were dead you’d still be alive?” Angel nearly hissed the words. “Now,” he repeated slowly, “Who. Sent. You?”
“Wolf…” the man began to answer before a jolt of electricity shot through his earpiece. His militant jacket, as well as the dead man’s on the floor began to smoke and sizzle, the smell of burning flesh assaulting the air.
Angel dropped the man’s two useless arms, allowing them to dangle at the intruder’s sides. Backing up a safe distance, he watched as the man in front of him and the one laying dead on the floor burst into a glowing flame, disintegrating into ash.
Silence took hold of the room.
“Well, at least we ain’t gotta worry about where to dump the bodies,” Gunn mumbled the deadpan comment before he reached the lower floor, bending to Wesley’s side.
Coming out of her hiding place from the floor above, a nightgown clad Fred ran down the steps behind Gunn. “Oh my gosh!” she gasped as her eyes focused in on Wesley and Cordelia.
Angel lifted Cordelia gently from the floor, cradling her in his arms and turning toward the stairs.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” Fred’s voice was frantic.
“No!” Angel growled, turning a burning glare of warning at Fred.
Her face froze in shock or fear, Angel couldn’t tell which, but for the first time during the entire mess he realized she was there. Facing him. He closed his eyes in a sort of apology and turned his back to her.
“Don’t call anyone,” he said as he pushed quickly passed her and headed for the stairs. “We don’t know who they were or what they wanted. We can’t trust anyone,” he said a little desperately as he stared down into Cordelia’s unconscious face, brushing the long strands of hair from across her cheek and mouth as he rushed her up the steps.
When Fred finally regained her senses and opened her mouth to protest, Gunn laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get Dr. Harrison, from the shelter. After all the dough Angel’s given he owes us a house call or two.” Gunn lifted Wesley with some effort and carried him to the old round sofa before setting out on his errand.
***
Angel took the stairs quickly, passing Cordelia’s floor without a thought, heading straight for his suite. Kicking the door open, he moved to the bed, placing her down with extreme care.
He sat down on the edge beside her still form, pulling up the silly throw she had placed at the end of the comforter. “To warm the place up,” she had explained during the tour she had given him earlier. “Make the place look lived in,” she had smiled at that one, making a joke about what he was. He looked down at the silly blanket. The cover wasn’t what had made the room warm, livable. It had been her; her presence, her touch, her body laying across the bed, waiting for him to return.
He mumbled a curse under his breath as he watched the nasty bruise to the side of her face begin to form and spread. Quickly, he went to the small refrigerator, gathering a few cubes of ice straight into his hand. As he placed the cubes directly onto her skin, a sense of dread began to creep in. He had done this to her, caused her to be in danger. He had thought to protect her from her father’s enemies. But in truth, he was no better than the man. He had simply brought her from one dark existence into another. He lifted the melting ice from her face. He had caused this, just as if he had struck the blow to her himself.
Angel had heard Gunn’s words to Fred and knew the doctor would come soon. He was grateful for Gunn’s level-head and scanned the room for a place to hide and watch. He couldn’t let the doctor see him, but he couldn’t leave her. Looking around the room, he took in the details, the little touches of Cordelia that were spread throughout the suite.
He loved what she had done for him, that she had thought about him. No one had ever cared about his comfort before. But in some ways he missed the old room. It matched his moods. Dark. Damaged. It was a room he could break things in. Vent his anger. A place where he could…..What was it she had been so fearless in telling him the first night they met? Lick his wounds in private? Yeah, the other room definitely lent itself to that. This room was too much like her. Warm, beautiful. A home. It made him feel like something good in his existence was possible. It made him, as crazy as it sounded, feel alive.
But he wasn’t alive.
Angel stared down at Cordelia’s body, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest.
He would never be alive. He would never be human.
Reaching up with the little ice he had left, he noticed for the first time the blood that had trickled from the man’s wound onto his hand. He placed the ice on the side table. He couldn’t touch her with blood on his hands.
And when she woke, and realized what he had done tonight, killing one man, a human, injuring another, she would finally see him for what he really was.
A monster.
She’d tried to forget that, make him forget that by changing his room, acting like she didn’t care about his face. Why had she done it for him anyway? Because he sent her flowers? Maybe she did it out of fear. Humans often dressed things up or down, changed fears into fairytales so that they could sleep at night. Mastered and tamed animals genetically engineered to rip out their throats, just so they could forget for a while that they were once and still occasionally prey.
He reached out to her, touching her with the hand that had not been drenched with blood. Oh, well. Maybe pretending your fears didn’t exist wasn’t such a bad thing. It had been nice to pretend for just a minute that he was something else. That this room meant something more than a dressed up cage for a beast. That Cordelia was something more than just another lost human staying in his self-made prison.
That the kiss…..Angel’s jaw tensed as he stared at Cordelia’s soft mouth, his thumb traveling over her full lower lip. No, the kiss was real. Nothing that explosive could have been pretend. But it would have to last an eternity.
A soft knock at the door, pulled his attention away from Cordelia.
Angel pushed a hand frustratingly through his hair. “Go away, Fred,” he answered back.
“Angel, please,” came her muffled reply.
He didn’t answer, assuming that she would take it as a hint. She didn’t. The doorknob turned slowly.
“I guess it’s not just rooms that you’re changing around here,” Angel whispered to Cordelia.
The door creaked open and Fred’s waiflike frame entered the room cautiously. She would have never had the courage to enter Angel’s suite before, but the last two days she had spent so much time in the room that it had lost some of its mystery, its forbidden air.
Angel tried to turn his face away, his mind warring over staying at Cordelia’s side and retreating to the shadows.
“Go away, Fred,” he repeated his earlier warning a little softer.
Ignoring him, Fred approached the bed slowly, looking down at Cordelia and then back to Angel who was desperately trying to shield his face from her by turning his head.
“I already saw ya down stairs, Angel,” her Texas drawl came out lightly. “And I mean it’s not like you’ve got somethin I haven’t seen before. Well, you know what I mean, I mean I’ve seen demons before, not that you’re a demon, demon, I mean you are a demon but I mean the really evil ones that I spent so much time with in that place I don’t like to talk about. Now they were demons in every since of the word and you’re just a vampire, well not JUST a vampire, a very special, very unique vampire but a vampire. And around here, to people like us…..well I just don’t think that’s as shockin as you might think it is.”
Angel turned a fraction of an inch, just enough so that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. God, he wished he had the courage to scare her so she would just leave. Why was it that he could make a man piss his pants with a look but the two women in the room with him at that moment refused to see what he was? They had no self-preservation. It was the only logical answer. “I just didn’t want you to see me like this, to meet me like this,” he paused for a moment before turning back slowly towards Cordelia, “I don’t want to be like this,” he whispered the confession aloud.
Fred began to sit down on the bed but thought better of it when Angel visibly tensed. Instead she chose the comfortable chair just next to the night stand.
Angel should have been happy that Fred didn’t seem afraid of him, but it also made him realize that what she had faced must have been terrible to make a vampire seem mundane. Or made her so crazy she didn’t care.
“She’ll be alright,” she broke the uncomfortable silence.
“She has to be,” he whispered more to Cordelia than to Fred.
“So, who do think they were?”
Angel shook his head, “I don’t know. But I will.”
Fred felt herself shiver then. She hadn’t been afraid, but Angel’s reply seemed more vow than answer. A promise to himself, to Cordelia. Remembering the sound of cracking bones, she decided to change the subject for her own piece of mind.
“The room looks nice,” she tried to break the morbidity of their situation.
“Yeah, thanks,” he said, still never looking directly at her.
“Oh,” Fred grinned. “It was all Cordelia. We just kinda helped out a little.”
“Don’t let her fool ya,” Cordelia’s voice came out in a whisper before her eyes tried desperately to flutter open. “She spent half a day teetering on a metal ladder. Scared the crap outa Gunn.”
Angel touched her arm, “Cordelia?” it was more a sigh of relief than a name.
Her eyes were lazy, half opened orbs. She tried to push herself up and winced at the explosions going off in her head.
“Don’t get up,” he pressed her gently back down and turned to look at the suite door, his superior senses picking up footsteps in the hall. “You’re going to be alright,” he said when he turned back to her.
“What happened?” she breathed out.
“You were hit by….”
“Commando guy,” her mind started to focus. “I remember.” She closed her eyes against the pain before the total recall of the moment hit. “Oh, God! Wesley!” she tried to sit up but met with another wince.
“He’s fine,” Fred assured her, silently hoping that the tranquilizer hadn’t really done any damage.
“Did you kill them?” it seemed an effort to speak, but she had to know, had to know that Angel was safe.
The question came so suddenly that Angel felt his body tremble slightly, waiting for his own response, waiting for his pretend moment to end. He opened his mouth to answer. To lie.
“He only got one of ’em,” Fred rushed to answer. “Well, two if you count the one that burned up after Angel broke both his arms. The rest just ran away, although by the looks of the two that Angel attacked, whatever failsafe that was in place probably got them too,” she said it so simply, as if they were discussing a playground brawl.
Angel turned the full force of his gaze on to Fred for the first time since she entered the room. If he didn’t care about her so much he’d be willing to break both HER arms at the moment.
“Good,” Cordelia relaxed a little.
Angel looked back to her in shock.
“Who were they?” Cordelia asked Fred as she closed her eyes again because it just hurt too damn much to keep them open.
“We don’t know. But….” Fred’s words were cut off by Angel’s quick look of reprimand.
“What the hell do mean by, good?” Angel turned back to Cordelia.
“Angel, those men were coming for you.”
“Cordelia, those weren’t demons running around the Sunnydale Cemetery. They were human,” his voice dripped with shame.
“I’m not diminishing the fact that someone died tonight, but if you’re thinking about blaming yourself for being forced into the situation, don’t,” she finally opened her eyes again. “As awful as it is, as much as it may bother all of us, you had to do it. You had a right to defend yourself. You’re not a monster. You killed in self defense.”
“No, I didn’t. I killed him because of this,” he brushed his hand against her bruised temple and cheekbone. “I looked at him first,” his voice dropped low, menacing, he wanted her to know, wanted her to see, “Knew he was the one. I wrapped my hand around his neck, watched as his eyes bulged in fear when he realized he was going to die, and then I snapped his neck.”
Angel stood and stared at her for a moment as the footsteps in the hall reached the door, making sure his words had sunk deeply. “Now, say I’m not a monster,” he walked slowly back to the balcony doors, exiting them just as the door to the suite opened.
***
Dr Harrison took a small bottle of pills from his bag and handed them to Cordelia who now sat propped up and under the covers of Angel’s bed. He looked to Gunn and Fred who stood patiently to the side. “Two now, two in the morning. Cut it down to one by tomorrow afternoon and then one every eight hours until the pain is a bit more tolerable.”
The doctor stood from his seat at the edge of the bed. “It’s a nasty one, but you’ll live,” he reached down and touched her chin, moving her head to the side for one last view of the bruise. He would have felt better if he had been able to convince the young woman to let him admit her for the night, just for observation. But what could he do? Charles Gunn had informed him that this was for a friend of the doctor’s anonymous benefactor. And he didn’t want to rock-the-boat. The shelter couldn’t exist without the grant.
“Was that thunder?” the elderly man looked toward the dark, curtained window before he finally let go of Cordelia’s face. He could have sworn the night was clear but it was the third time he’d heard the distant and odd rumbling since he’d entered the room.
“Thanks, doc,” Gunn approached the man, ignoring his question and sensing that the doctor would be safer on the dark L.A. streets outside than in Angel’s suite examining Cordelia. Taking the older man by the elbow and allowing him a quick goodbye to his patient, Gunn handed him his bag and escorted him out the door.
Fred looked down at Cordelia who was staring at the balcony doors, a frown of disapproval on her face.
“I’ll go check on Wesley,” she offered herself an excuse to leave.
“How is he?” Cordelia moved the covers off her legs and gingerly rose from the bed.
“He’s still a little groggy, but Dr. Harrison said he’d be fine. I think Wesley’s kinda proud he survived a drug that should have took down three men. You were both real lucky,” Fred smiled, relieved that her friends were safe.
“We were all lucky.”
Fred smiled, glanced at the balcony doors and turned to leave the room.
Cordelia’s head pounded with each step toward the darkened doors. When she finally made it outside, she was thankful that the predawn air was cool, easing the ache of her throbbing bruise a little, noticing in the darkness that her eyes didn’t hurt quite as much. Crossing her arms, she walked to Angel’s side, looking out at the night as he was.
“Ya know, growling at the man, as ineffective as it was, still, kinda rude considering he came all the way over here as a personal favor for you,” she advised softly, turning to look at the side of his face.
Angel didn’t turn. “He kept touching you,” he accused as if the man had committed the gravest sin.
“It’s called an examination, Angel,” she spoke as if he were mentally challenged. He’s a doctor. He was just making sure that I hadn’t hurt anything else when I fell. Besides, he’s like a hundred and eighty-four,” she dismissed. “Be grateful that he was willing to come.”
The man’s age didn’t make things any better. Angel was over two-hundred and he wanted to touch her. “He was willing to come because of the money, not because of me, or you for that matter. Money can make humans do anything, good or bad,” he turned to her then. “You should know that,” he winced as soon as he said it, saw her drowsy eyes turn sad.
She was silent then and turned her face back out to the darkness.
Angel closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Or had he? “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s okay. It’s the truth.”
Angel could see the glisten of hidden tears in her eyes and he reached out to touch her hair, wondering absently at why he felt comfortable enough to do so around her. “I’m sorry,” he said it again.
“It’s okay, really. I just. I….” she trailed off.
“What?” Anything. Why couldn’t she see how terrible he was, how selfish? Anything she said, whatever she needed. She deserved the world for putting up with him.
“I miss my dad.”
Angel felt himself groan inside. When he would have opened his mouth to remind her of his earlier decision, his strict order, of the reasons he could not possibly allow her to go near her father yet, or ever for what he had done to her, she turned.
Her enormous hazel eyes were staring straight into him, not reproachful, not mad or hurt by his comment, not terrified of the things he had done just a couple of hours earlier, simply sad. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t move. He was lost somewhere in their warm depths, their sorrowful, hazel pools. She looked at him as if he held all the answers. As if he was the only being on earth that could help her. But most of all she looked at him with complete trust.
What was it he had decided? Ordered? Oh, yeah. Her father. She wasn’t going anywhere near her father. He had a reason. A good reason. More than one. But now, lost in her eyes that stared into him, pleaded with him to understand, he couldn’t seem to see why seeing her father was such a bad thing. If it made her happy, how could it be wrong.
His gaze dropped to the perfection of her full lips, slightly parted, waiting for his answer.
No, pleasing Cordelia could never be a bad thing.
“We’ll go see your dad as soon as you’re up to it,” he surrendered. When he saw a small smile creep into her eyes and across her lips, he lost himself in the moment. Some uncontrollable urge to please her pushed him on, “We’ll even bring him back here to stay, if that’ll make you happy.” What the…? He wanted to take it back, until her arms flung around his neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his ear. “You don’t know how much this means to me, Angel.”
His arms circled her in response, “Yes, I do. It’s the only explanation as to why I’ve completely lost my edge.”
Her only response was a small laugh through tears as she hugged him even tighter.
“I don’t know if I can stand this, Cordelia,” he whispered into her hair, taking the irresistible scent of it into his lungs. “The way you throw all this blind trust at me. The way you seem completely unable to see what I really am. I don’t think I’ll survive the moment you come to your senses.”
She pulled back slightly to look at him, “It’s not blind trust, Angel. Just trust. I believe in what people do, not what they say. And, as weird as it seems, you’re the only person in my entire life who has come through for me.”
“How can you trust me? You don’t even know me. What I am. What I’ve been.”
“It doesn’t matter what you’ve been. And as for what you are, I’m not blind either. You’re a vampire with a soul. Plain and simple.”
“Cordelia, I don’t think that’s plain or simple.”
“Well, of course you wouldn’t. That definition wouldn’t fit the label of monster. And I do know you, Angel. I know you by your actions. You keep claiming to be this monster, but frankly, I haven’t seen him yet,” still locked in an embrace with him, she pulled one arm free and gently touched the ridges of his forehead, “These don’t make you a monster, Angel.”
“I killed a man tonight, Cordelia. How’s that action for you.”
“You saved our lives tonight, Angel. If you were human and someone broke into your home, threatened your family with weapons, would you defend the people you loved? Yourself? I know I would.” She wrapped her arm back around him and leaned into the strength of his chest, “I know a man died tonight. And I know that the guilt of that kill is eating you up inside. But you see, because of that, you should know you’re not a monster. A monster wouldn’t care.”
Angel held her there for as long as he could, until the sun was just moments from warming the sky. Reluctantly, he pulled away and taking her by the hand, he led her to her room. She needed rest. And he needed time to absorb what she had said.
And what he had promised.
***
Angel stood beneath the spray of water, enjoying the improved plumbing of his room. The pain medication that Dr. Harrison had given Cordelia had kept her out most of the day. Angel had stayed by her side most of the time, watching her sleep, making sure the others were close by if she needed anything.
But most of all, through the entire sleepless day, he had thought. Thought about the change of events since Cordelia had come into his home.
Home? That was the first time he had ever thought of the hotel in such a term.
He stared at the water running down the face of the tile in front of him for a moment, the warm jets of the shower, warming his cold body. Lifting his hands he traced the lines in his brow, his fingers drifting lower to the jaggedness of his mouth.
It was strange, to be made to kill them, when all he wanted to do was protect them. Maybe Cordelia wasn’t blind to what he was after all. Maybe she was the only one who could really see him, beyond the face, what he really was, or at least what he wanted to be.
Maybe it was sex, pure and simple. They were both obviously attracted to each other. Although, knowing full well why he would be attracted to her, he couldn’t fathom why in hell she would want him. But sex didn’t seem to describe the emotions Cordelia stirred in him adequately. It went far beyond that, far beyond any physical thing he’d ever felt. It was more than a want, a desire. It was a need so basic, so elemental that Angel was beginning to feel as if he could not survive with out her. Needed her just to exist.
And her beauty, although great, ran a far second to what he saw inside. Her courage and acceptance of him, of the others and their strange life at the hotel. The way she seemed to look past his monstrous face, reaching into his very soul. She was the only being, human or not, who didn’t run in terror from him or look at him as a project, a specimen.
Turning off the shower, he stepped out and dried and dressed quickly. She’d be waking up soon and he wanted to be there.
Taking the few stairs to her floor below quickly, Angel paused at her door, not wanting to wake her. Gently, he pushed the door open.
The room was fully lit, Cordelia’s bed empty. Angel scanned the room, focusing in on the half opened bathroom door.
Angel stared at her as she entered the room, dressed in designer jeans and a fitted pullover that accentuated her full breasts. He took in the sight, trying to ignore the way her curves made his body feel heavy and uncomfortable in his own clothes. “Why aren’t you in bed?” God, why weren’t they both?
Cordelia jumped, “You scared the crap out of me, Angel,” she breathed.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You said we could go get my dad,” she raised her eyebrows as if daring him to go back on his promise.
“I said when you were ready.” When he was ready.
“Ready,” she proclaimed in a sing-song voice as she moved to grab a purse from the closet.
“Cordelia,” Angel crossed the room. When she turned his hand gently touched the ugly green bruise in protest.
“Angel,” she reached up and took his hand from her face. “I’m fine. A little sore, but fine.”
Angel pushed out a groan of frustration.
“Wesley said he has the number for the motel downstairs,” she passed by him, ignoring his obvious objection. “I thought we’d call before we go. Let him know we’re coming.”
Angel turned, “You’ll never convince him to stay here,” he tried not to sound hopeful.
“Pfft,” Cordelia opened the door, waiting for him to follow. “I convinced you to let him, didn’t I?” she shot him a bright smile, one that made all the little grins she had flashed at him since her arrival pale in comparison. He had a feeling that that smile could convince anyone to do anything for her.
“Alright,” as if he had a choice. “Gunn can go with us, that way you’ll have someone to go inside with you.” He moved to join her at the door.
Downstairs Gunn, Fred, and a slow moving Wesley waited in the office. “Hi, Angel,” Fred smiled at him as he and Cordelia entered the office. He gave her a small nod. It was uncomfortable being in the brightly lit room, everyone able to stare at him at will. He wanted to slink to the shadows or wait out on the dark street.
Cordelia sensed his unease and slipped her hand into his, giving it a firm squeeze, “The number?” she looked at Wesley who was staring at their clasped hands. He shook himself and looked quickly to his desk, “Yes, here it is. Logan’s Motor Inn and Suites.”
Gunn gave a little humorless laugh, “I’ve seen the place. There ain’t nothin suite about it.”
Angel shot him a look as Cordelia rounded the desk and took the number. Sitting down she took the receiver in hand then looked up to the occupants of the room. “A little privacy, please?”
Fred, Gunn, Wesley and Angel filed out of the room obediently and shut the door. Angel’s ears tuned into Cordelia’s voice, hearing her greeting to the clerk before Wesley approached him, interrupting his attempt at eavesdropping.
“Angel, I wonder if I might have a word with you this evening after your errand. It’s about,” he leaned in to whisper, “the curse.”
“You found something?” Angel whispered back.
Wesley glanced at the office window at Cordelia briefly before answering. “Yes, I think so.”
Angel heard the click of the phone and turned his attention back to the office, the door slowly opened. Cordelia took a tentative step out.
“I’ll pull the truck around,” Gunn started for the door.
“Don’t bother,” she said quietly. “He’s not there.”
Angel stepped closer to her, touched her arm for comfort.
“He left. Why would he do that?” she looked up at Angel. “He didn’t even leave a way for me to get in touch with him.”
Guilt washed through Angel. It had been a few days since he had checked on Clinton Chase. His new and unexpected feelings toward Cordelia had garnered every bit of his attention. He should have known the man would find trouble. Or desert his daughter as her mother had. The last thought made him hope for Clinton’s sake that the first was true.
Cordelia slipped her hand from Angel’s. Passing the group, she crossed the lobby and headed silently toward the stairs.
Angel turned to Gunn and Wesley, “Find him,” he ordered before following after her.
Wesley walked quickly behind him, “Angel, the curse…”
“Not right now,” he dismissed.
***
He knew she’d be on her balcony. Not by his senses. He just knew. She stood by the ledge, gently touching one of the flowers in her hand. Crossing the room, Angel stepped behind her, his hand stoking the mass of chestnut silk that tumbled down her back. To sooth her, to sooth himself.
Cordelia closed her eyes as his hand slid down and found the nape of her neck, his fingers curling around the slender column. Even as he sought to sooth her, to view her as merely a human in need, desire slammed into him hard and unexpected. He had touched her only to comfort her, but he couldn’t seem to let go and cursed himself for his lack of control, his selfishness in her situation.
“I’m such a coward,” she laughed bitterly at herself as Angel’s fingers began to massage her neck. “Any brave person would run to the motel, try and find out what had happened. I run to my room and cry like a baby.”
“You’re not a coward, Cordelia. Stop blaming yourself for your father’s mess. You came here, stayed, even knowing what I was. You didn’t even try to run when you were free in the daylight. You came back here, honored your promise.”
“Would it have done me any good?” her voice was so low even his ears almost missed it. “To run?”
“No,” he told the truth, pushing the limits of what he thought she could accept. “I meant what I said, Cordelia. You’re not a prisoner. But at the same time, I know I can’t let you go. Not completely.” ‘Not ever,’ the words shimmered in his mind.
Her heart pounded at that admission, the vibration echoing through his own still body.
When he thought she would finally flee, scared by his possessiveness, she leaned back against him, relaxing her body into the strength of his chest. Her life was out of control, so different from what it had been just a year ago. She needed a rock, a solid place to rest, to find out who she really was.
“I’ve got to find him, Angel. I know you don’t believe me, but the things he did, he only did for me and my mom. I won’t ask for your help again. You’ve already done so much; saving him, taking me in. I guess I could hire someone,” she brainstormed frantically. “A private eye?” she thought aloud.
Angel turned her around at the silly notion. “I’ll find your dad. And I’ll keep my promise,” his golden eyes stared down at her, watching a lagging teardrop trail down her face. Reaching out, he swiped the salty bead and brought it up to the coolness of his mouth. He hadn’t even understood why he had done it, but at the taste of her tear, he groaned aloud, his body raging at him for some kind of release from the torment of being so near her.
He bent his head to her, his mouth taking hers hard and possessive, wanting to devour the rest of her, wanting to wipe away every thought of her father and any idea that she might ever need anyone else to help her. He only needed her, he wanted her to only need him.
Why had he lost all self control? She was mourning her father’s absence and he couldn’t control his own selfish needs. She deserved something so much better.
Cordelia sighed and closed her eyes. It was just what she needed. The solid strength of him, the rock to hold on to during the storm, his mouth pushing away thoughts of her family, her façade of a life. But something deep inside of her said it was more. More than just loneliness, more than just weakness.
Her lips were satin soft beneath his assault, trembling, enticing. He knew then, as he deepened the kiss even more, reached his arms around to press her closer to him, that this was no mere advance to ruin any future mortal relationship. Because there would be none. This was Angel claiming what was his, giving Cordelia what was hers.
Cordelia met his hunger, his desperation with her own. And it was Cordelia who swept her tongue across the crease of his mouth, begging entrance.
When Angel opened to her, swept her along with him as he ravaged her mouth, time stopped and the world fell away. Nothing existed except the two of them, no monsters, no curses, to trouble prone fathers or absent mothers, no mysterious mercenaries. Only the hard strength of Angel’s arms as they wrapped themselves around her, bringing her out of the darkness that she had been struggling through. He was a mixture of dominance and compassion. And somehow, Cordelia knew that she would never be the same.
Angel couldn’t stop. Only when she gasped for air, did he lift his head, his amber eyes burning possessively over her face. He had to calm himself, chain the beast. He couldn’t afford to lose her now, not after she had ventured through the darkness to drag him out.
Very gently, tenderly, he ran a caressing hand over her silky hair and down her soft cheek, eventually resting his palm against her throat. His fingers curled slowly around her neck, his thumb feathering the delicate line of her jaw.
He had followed her to her room to sooth her, to offer support and comfort. But now, all he wanted to do was touch every inch of her, to sate some secret and mysterious hunger that she had awakened ever since her arrival. He bent to kiss her again, softer this time, Cordelia’s eyes fluttered and then closed.
What was wrong with her? Her father could be dead, or worse. Her life was in shambles. And she was lost in some lust induced make-out session. She reached up and placed a hand on Angel’s muscular chest, pushing just an inch away from him. She might want him, need him even, but it wasn’t rational. “We should stop before we get carried away,” she whispered against his mouth.
He groaned aloud as she stalled where she was, tempting him just an inch away. It was torture.
“I’m already carried away,” he whispered back.
Her lashes raised, blinked up at him, her chest rising and lowering quickly. “I just…my life’s so confusing right now, Angel. I don’t want to make a mistake. You’re on the edge right now, barely believing in yourself, I don’t want to cause another problem for you to have to sort out.” She couldn’t stand it if her attraction to him confused him even more, hurt him in some way.
Angel stroked her cheek, raised her chin slightly with his hand, “Does it have to be a problem? Can’t it be a solution?”
Cordelia retreated slightly, turning toward the small wind blowing onto the balcony, desperately trying to cool her heated skin.
“Coming here has changed me so much, Angel,” she admitted.
Angel stepped close beside her, leaning down to rest his elbows on the ledge of the balcony. He wished he could give her the normal life robbed of her by her father, held out of her reach by himself. “I’m sorry you had to find out what evil was, that it existed.”
“Are you kidding me? I knew there was evil in the world. Granted, I didn’t think of it in terms of actual monsters running around in the sewers of Sunnydale, but that’s just one form Angel. It comes in many. And quit apologizing for my sucky life,” her melancholy turned to exasperation for a moment, “It was royally screwed by the time I got here.”
“But you said you’ve changed since you’ve been here,” he pressed.
Cordelia shrugged casually, trying to water down the importance of her revelation. “I just feel different here, that’s all. In Sunnydale, before my father’s deal, I was afraid all the time. Afraid of missing a step, letting them see behind the mask of perfection, not letting anyone see that I had a mind of my own. A brain. Girls with brains aren’t cute, aren’t popular,” she laughed with disgust at herself. “It was all so fake. I was so fake,” she looked down at her hands. “‘Act the part and you will become the part’, my mother used to say. She was right. You wear a mask long enough, you start to believe that’s what you are, all you are,” she looked at him and he knew that she wasn’t only speaking about herself.
He had thought her so untouchable, so different. But were they?
“Then after my father ruined our lives and my mother left, the mask dropped. I knew what real fear was then. I was so terrified. So alone. But then I came here. And all that changed. For the first time in my life I feel safe. I feel like I’m learning who I really am. I just don’t want to make any more mistakes, don’t want to disappoint any more people in my life. Especially you,” she turned to look at him. “You’ve got too much baggage to carry to take mine on too. You, who thinks this disfigured face is a reflection of his soul,” she skimmed her fingers across his cheek. “Names himself a monster. A monster who protects an old market woman, saves children from real monsters, and gives away some mysterious fortune to help and pamper everyone but himself. Standing here on this balcony, with a monster like that, I’ve never felt safer or less alone in my life. I just don’t want to screw that up.”
He took her hand from his face, held it in his, “How can you look at me and say that? Can’t you see what I am?”
“Yes. That’s why I can say it.”
Angel leaned in to kiss her bruised eyelid, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, before settling softly against her lips. It was so tender, a reverent exploration. His mouth left hers slowly, his hand sliding down the side of her arm. His fingers entwined themselves with hers and he brought her hand to the coolness of his mouth, his lips brushing a kiss across her knuckles, the inside of her wrist. Placing her hand against the wall of his chest, Angel bent his head to the neckline of her stretchy, cotton shirt, his goal the small bit of cleavage shadowed by the scoop of the neck.
“Stay with me, Cordelia,” he whispered against her skin as his mouth sent darts of fire in the form of small kisses that trailed up the neckline of her shirt to her collarbone. “Be with me. Not because of your promise,” he continued between the kisses. “Or because I’m going to find your father and keep him safe,” his mouth made it to the hollow of her neck. “Stay because you want to, because I need you, because you need me. You weren’t afraid of me, don’t be afraid of this.”
She did need him. Her body clenched as his mouth sent flames dancing over her skin. Her hands circled his head as he continued his onslaught of kisses, making his way to the pulse point behind her ear. Her fingers tangled in his thick, dark hair when she heard him mumble something inaudible against her lobe. She loved what he was doing to her, and even more what she seemed to be doing to him.
Angel’s hands reached down and caressed her hip, glided up to the hem of her shirt as he nipped her earlobe and buried his face against her mass of hair. “I love the way you smell,” he inhaled. His hand slipped beneath her shirt and his fingers splayed over her taut stomach.
“Maybe we should talk a little while longer, discuss what this means,” her breath came in little gasps, her fear at the intensity of their situation showing. Fear of him, fear of herself. “Ya know communication is the keystone to any new relationship,” she barely got out.
She shivered as he kissed down her neck and back up against her ear, “This means everything to me,” he whispered in her ear, “And I’m communicating it the only way I know how.”
His voice moved like magic over her skin. Blood raced through her veins thick and heavy. She ached, need, never wanted anything more in her young life.
She turned her mouth to his. He felt himself on the edge of control, a gruff sound escaping his throat as he moved away from the balcony, dragging her with him to stand just inside the room.
Cordelia was so aware of him. His broad shoulders, powerful chest, the way his arms locked her body to him, protectively, possessively. He was seeping into every pore of her body, changing her, changing them both. The hell with family problems, the world. Those things were for rational people to worry about. Cordelia was beyond thinking rationally.
Angel caught at the hem of Cordelia’s shirt, breaking the embrace only briefly as he lifted the cotton material over her head. His large hands spanned her waist, bent her backwards so that her silk covered breasts rose to meet his descending mouth. His mouth pulled at her hard peeks straight through the material, instantly causing a creamy, hot response to pool between her legs.
He raised his head, desperate to touch skin. Fumbling with the hook of her bra for a mere second, he ripped the scrappy garment off with one strong tug. Angel stared mesmerized at the perfection of her; her back arched against his palm, eyes dazed and sexy. He reached up with his free hand, traced the fullness of her breasts, the smallness of her ribcage, her fit, tapered waist.
Cordelia straightened herself, leaned in closer to him, sliding her hand beneath his shirt, needing to touch him the way he was touching her. She tugged at his shirt and he joined her, lifting it quickly over his own head.
Their eyes met for a moment before Cordelia’s dropped to the flawlessness of his chest. He was pale and muscular, like sculpted marble. A Greek god in stone. She traced the cut line of his abdomen and he trembled.
His body was raging at him, so fiercely that he feared if he didn’t rein himself in a bit, cage the beast, that he would hurt her. His body went rigid as she bent forward, kissed his chest, fed on him the way he had her. When he regained thought, his hands traced down to the curve of her hips, pushing at her jeans and silken panties until she stood bare before him.
Angel swept her up into his arms, only making it to the bed because it was close. He laid her down, taking in the sight of her; her satin skin, her beautiful face, her firm and shapely legs. Lowering himself, he hovered above her, never pressing his weight down, afraid of crushing her. His head sank to the perfection of one breast, his cool mouth closing around her. The pull of his cool lips as he fed on her sent a rush of heat so fast and strong through her body that she felt as if she were burning up.
His hand slid even lower, down along her waist to the slender curve of her hipbone, lower still to burn a trail down to her knee, then back up the soft skin of her inner thigh.
Cordelia felt herself shutter as his hand found moist heat between her legs and, without thought, her fingers found the button of his pants, working at the confining garment so that finally the full length of him burst free, heavy and needing. She could feel his hand pressing against her, making her blood rush hot and heavy. She moved her hips, needing a release from the sweet torment his fingers caused as they delved deep, testing her readiness, pushing her limits.
Hot cream met him, bathed him, her manicured nails raked at his back. He lifted himself slightly, discarding what was left of his clothes before settling some of his weight onto her. His knee nudged between her legs, opening her to him. He pressed his sensitive tip to the entrance of her heated core and immediately her body responded, bathing his with hot cream. His mouth captured hers as he eased inside her, inch by excruciatingly slow inch. She was so tight, so hot; he thought he’d explode before he even began. She surrounded him, gripped him so hard that he had to clench his jagged teeth together, to call on every ounce of control to go slowly.
She moved her hips then, needing him deeper, sending a shock through him so hard, so jolting, that he lost all sense of control. Gathering her hips into his hands, his body surged forward with one powerful stroke.
Cordelia gasped, the pleasure and pain of it so near ecstasy that she cried out, her hands reaching up, circling his neck, needing more. His body retreated and thrust a second time, a third, filling her completely, each stroke becoming surer as their bodies worked together in a dance of pleasure. He surged into her with sure, hard thrusts that seemed to build in intensity, winding them both tighter and tighter.
His mouth fed on hers as his hips drove into her, harder, stronger. It went on and on, reached higher and higher until she heard herself cry out, her body fragmenting into a thousand pieces as wave after wave rocked her. Her muscles convulsing, wrapping him like a glove.
He gripped her hips tightly, his body hard and slick with her release. He was drowning in it, losing himself in her. She was tight, velvet fire against his cold steel, producing feelings and sensations in him that he thought he would never, could never feel. Lightning flashed through him, his sure, thorough strokes turning into a frenzy of need. He threw back his head, his eyes blazing from merciless gold to warm brown as he erupted into a torrent of passion. He felt himself spilling into her, her body milking him, rocking him with her own aftershocks.
Cordelia stared into his eyes as he slowed, rocking her body gently with his. Leaning his head down, he lapped lazily at one breast, then another, making her body tremble with weakness and desire all over again.
Angel lifted his head, reached out to frame her face, but Cordelia stopped him, holding his hand tightly in hers, her eyes staring straight into his, through his.
“I want to know every inch of you, Cordelia,” he protested softly, bringing her hand to his mouth, turning it over to kiss the inside of her wrist.
“Maybe,” she whispered a slight smile crossing her lips as she raised his own hand to his face. “It’s time to get to know yourself first,” she brushed his face with his own hand.
Angel dropped his hand away and went perfectly still for a moment, then rolled onto his back, taking Cordelia with him so that their bodies still joined completely. Her eyes were bright, alive with the afterglow of something too explosive to be labeled sex. She took his hand again, lifting it to his face, tracing the smooth plane, the sensuous mouth. His other hand joined her, his human face full of shock as he ran his fingers over his brow, his mouth, feeling the bluntness of his teeth. “How?” he whispered.
Cordelia shrugged, causing a small friction between their still joined bodies, sending butterfly wings fluttering to her toes. “Maybe I’m not the only one learning to live without a mask.” And she leaned down to kiss him, because she had to.