Part 6
“I mean, can you believe he said that? That I wasn’t good enough for him?” she scoffed. “I mean, please! What man wouldn’t want me?!?” Cordelia’s face was scrunched up in irritation, her pretty nose wrinkled and her lips set in a frown. She stubbornly ignored the voice in her head that echoed the fact that he hadn’t actually said that. She’d said it, taken it from his cryptic words. But oh, he’d meant it, all right. Hadn’t he?
The air around her in the Mystique Salon, saturated with the strong smell of acetone, served as a soothing balm to Cordelia’s shattered nerves. The massage session with Angel had worn down every last defense she’d had, and her only recourse had been to look for something totally frivolous, a selfish pampering, that would help her deal with the crazy mixed-up emotions she had toward the broody vampire. A manicure had seemed like the best idea.
Kiki, her manicurist, was efficiently filing down her ninth nail and listening intently to Cordelia’s tirade. She was a pretty blonde, hair short and layered, flipped jauntily around her head. She was overweight but she carried it well, her wide smile and sparkling brown eyes drawing everyone to her pretty face. On top of all that, she was a whiz at manicures, and she had a way of listening that made her clients feel like they could tell her anything.
Pausing when she realized Cordelia had stopped, Kiki cast a concerned glance at Cordelia. It was the first quiet moment since the brunette had sat heavily into the chair across from her, a dramatic sigh escaping the pouting lips in a way that had made Kiki frown in concern.
“Go on, hon,” Kiki said, her round face turning up in a smile as she looked at one of her most loyal clients. She adopted a southern accent and drawled, “Tell me how that man done you wrong.”
“He didn’t do me wrong, exactly,” Cordelia admitted, squirming a little bit. The guilt over her own actions last night kept prodding at her in the most inconvenient times. “We’re going to counseling, that’s all, and the therapist has been making us do these really crazy homework assignments. It’s driving me nuts. One moment I want to jump him and the next moment I want to claw his eyes out. It’s so frustrating!”
Kiki smiled knowingly. “What kind of homework? Like role-playing games?”
Cordy’s frown grew fiercer. “Not exactly. Why, you know what I’m talking about?”
The manicurist dropped Cordy’s hand and went for some nail solution. She nodded as she went back to work. “Brad and I, my first husband, you remember him?”
At Cordy’s nod she continued. “Well, he and I tried to get some marriage counseling when he was sleeping around. I agreed to it, mainly because my lawyer said it would look better when it came time to divvy up our assets. Anyhow, the therapist was a firm believer in creative sex as a salve for any married problems. It kind of fell apart when I drew the line at bondage.”
Cordelia’s eyebrows went up into her hairline. “Your therapist wanted him to tie you up?” she asked in disbelief. “After what he did to you?”
Kiki laughed. “Nope. Wanted me to tie him up. Then do whatever I wanted to him. I wouldn’t do it, ‘case I knew that the moment he was helpless I’d do something illegal. I didn’t want to set myself up for a lifetime in the slammer.”
They shared a laugh over Kiki’s good judgment.
“So, anyway, hon, go on about Angel. Does it really bother you so much to work through this?” she asked as she put Cordy’s hands in the solution to soak.
“No. I actually want to work it out. I care about him; he’s probably the closest friend I have in the world.” She paused, not quite sure where she was headed with this.
Wisely keeping silent, Kiki worked steadily as Cordelia sifted through the emotions to figure it out.
“It’s just—,” she paused, frowning. “It’s just that I feel like he’s holding back from me. Like he won’t trust me or something. Because he’s still in love with his ex.”
“It hurts when the man you love won’t give everything to you,” Kiki stated sympathetically.
“Huh?” Cordelia asked, confused. “I don’t love him. Not like that,” she added hastily. “We’re just co-workers. And friends. Really good friends.”
An indelicate snort escaped Kiki and she smirked knowingly at Cordelia. “Sure, honey, and I’m Playboy’s Playmate of the month,” she laughed, thrusting her ample hip out of the chair and striking a mockery of a sultry pose.
“I’m not in love with him!” Cordy said emphatically, but her eyes wouldn’t meet Kiki’s.
The manicurist’s arched eyebrow nearly disappeared into her hairline as she stared Cordelia down. The younger woman squirmed, then broke.
“All right! So I’m insanely attracted to the guy. So what? Okay, so my heart races, my breath catches, and I get really really hot around him. And I can’t help but drool when I think about seeing him naked. Big deal! I haven’t gotten any in a little while. I’m just horny. That’s all!”
Kik’s smile was gentle. “You ever heard that saying that ‘De Nile’ isn’t just a river in Egypt?”
Cordy made face at her. “Ha, ha. Funny. Shut up!”
They sat in a moment of friendly silence and reflection. Kiki gently removed Cordelia’s hands from the solution, dried them off, and began to work again. “Girl, your eyes light up every time you talk about him. Every other time you’ve been in here, you haven’t been able to stop talking about him in one way or another.”
Cordelia tried hard not to listen, but it wasn’t working. “Not only that, but your anger at him is based in hurt, not irritation, and face it, that’s a sure sign of love.”
Cordelia’s face crumpled and she looked like she wanted to cry. “I can’t be in love with him, Kiki. I just can’t. I can’t afford to be, emotionally. Not when he’s still in love with Buffy. Not when he won’t trust me.” Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes brimming with tears.
Kiki sighed sympathetically. “I know, honey. Believe me, I know.” She shook her head ruefully as she applied the clear basecoat to Cordy’s nails. “Heartache is never an easy thing. But if you do love him—,” she stopped, looking up and catching Cordelia’s gaze, her eyes earnest. “Honey, if you do love him, you have to fight for him. That other girl, no matter how great she might be, isn’t here. She gave up, too, even if he’s the one who left. And you’re here picking up the pieces even now.”
Cordy’s breath caught in her throat as she realized the wisdom in Kiki’s words.
The manicurist continued, the polish frozen in her hand as she displayed the naked truth. “You’re here. She’s not. You love him, and from everything you tell me, it sounds like he thinks the world of you. Even if you think he’s holding back, he doesn’t know that you love him, right? You have a chance here, kiddo, to get the man of your dreams. Don’t let fear take that chance away from you.”
One tear spilled over and tracked down Cordelia’s cheek. She took up her unoccupied hand and wiped it away, sniffling a little bit as she tried to get a hold of herself.
“Thanks, Kiki, you always know what to say.” Her smile was wobbly, but genuine.
“Sure, hon. You know me. The advice comes free. It’s the beauty you have to pay for.” She grinned at her cheekiness.
Cordy’s friendly gaze stared back, but the dark clouds remained behind her eyes. What Kiki said made sense. But it made sense only if Angel wasn’t Angel. Only if Angel was a normal human guy with a normal, safe job. With a soul that wasn’t trying to escape every time he got a break in life. Because the underlying problem here wasn’t his love for Buffy, not really. That was important, but it wasn’t the crux of the issue. The problem was his curse. They could only go so far together before he would cross that line and the man she loved would disappear, a psychotic killer in his place.
She wanted to fight for him. Madly. Desperately. Wanted to take back every hurtful thing she’d said the night before, replay the incident and beg him to love her the way that she loved him. But she couldn’t. If she ignored the curse to seek her happiness, she knew that eventually, she wouldn’t be able to hold back, and she knew, that if he returned her feelings, he wouldn’t be able to either.
So she was back to square one. Alone, miserable, and in love.
***
Angel paced the dimly lit lobby, waiting for Cordelia to arrive so they could head over to Dr. Van Buren’s for their next session. He’d been up all night, as vampires were wont to do, pacing and rerunning the entire miserable fiasco of the massage in his mind. Every wrong thing he said seem to shout back at him in his brain, and her hurtful comments twisted in his gut. He knew she hadn’t meant much of what she said, but there was a ring of truth behind some of it, and it scared him. Now, more than ever, he realized how much he needed her, and he couldn’t afford for her to distance herself now.
More disturbing was the question that had haunted him, after he’d finally managed to suppress the memories of their argument, continued to call to him even now.
Was he in love with Cordelia?
He paused in the middle of the lobby to reflect again. He desired her, that much was without question. Every time she was in the room his body seemed to come alive. His dreams were saturated with her, his list of fantasies involving her, endless. And what’s more, he knew that she was just as attracted to him. On a more emotional level, he valued her as a person, wanted her as a regular fixture in his life. Doyle had said once that Cordelia was his link to humanity. That she’d keep him connected to people and not let him go back to brooding like he had been before L.A. She’d been that and so much more. Not only would she not let him brood, she also managed to find his buried sense of humor. She made him feel like a man, and no one, not even Buffy, had been able to reach his soul quite the way that Cordelia did.
The only thing that kept him from saying he was in love with Cordelia was the fact that he couldn’t give her a future. With the curse still firmly in place, he knew that any love shared between them was lost before they even took hold of it. It made him despair, to know that he could never really love her. Not like he wanted to.
Just listening to his thoughts, it struck him. He was in love with Cordelia. It had happened when he’d least expected it, but it was there within him just the same. And knowing that he could do nothing brought him to the deepest level of regret he’d ever faced. She deserved a better life. Somehow, though, he knew that she would still choose him.
***
Cordelia had managed to get a handle on her emotions by the time she walked back into the hotel and found Angel standing there in the dark, staring off into space. She was a little late, having arrived closer to 5 p.m. than she’d wanted, but she felt that the delay was worthwhile. She’d repaired her make-up, given herself a rousing pep talk, and had taken several deep, calming breaths before she walked into the lobby.
All of that preparation did nothing to alleviate the response of her body and soul when she saw him again, though. Despite all of the problems of last night, her recent realization of her growing feelings for him assaulted her from every angle.
She walked into the lobby noiselessly, slowly, both dreading and anticipating the moment he’d turn and look at her. When he didn’t, she just stood there quietly, watching him. He was beautiful in his silence; a stoic, modern-day epic hero. He was poetry in repose, all hard angles and lines, an intriguing blend of dark hues that blended into the shadows, drawing her to him.
Something stirred inside her as she watched him, something primal, something needy, her body and soul thirsting for him at an elemental level. She nearly burst into tears on the spot, the magnetism was so powerful yet so heart wrenching. In that moment, she was truly undone.
The night before, in the heat and intensity of their anger, she’d felt a similar yearning of her body to his, but had chalked it up to nothing more than angry lust, sparked by her volatile emotions at the time. Now, though, the draw to him was unmistakable, a recognition in the very depths of her being that he was the one she’d been looking for her entire life.
Funny how she hadn’t known she’d ever begun looking in the first place.
Yet here he was, in front of her, the perfect mate for her soul, mind, and body, and he was unattainable. She knew it. He knew it. And the desperation that clawed at her when she understood that they would never be was devastating. In a bid to control the despair swirling inside her, she drew herself up and put on her most comfortable façade. The one that kept her popular, yet safe. Friendly, yet distanced. The Cordelia that she’d been when she first met Angel, and the Cordelia that knew how to keep her distance but cheer him up at the same time.
“Hey, big guy,” she said, trying to interject a smile into her voice. It was important that he understand that last night was forgotten. That she wanted to ignore it, or get past it. “Ready to go visit Dr. Pain and Torture?”
He seemed startled by her voice, his shoulders twitching almost imperceptibly before he turned to face her. She knew that anyone who didn’t know him so well would’ve thought he’d heard her coming, but she knew that he’d been so deep within himself that his senses had been muffled. It was a dangerous place for him, to go so far that he’d let his guard down, and it made her heart break for him that much more. He wouldn’t have retreated like that if he hadn’t been so hurt.
He put on a small smile for her benefit, then his eyes roamed over her figure. She realized he was checking her to make sure she was safe and unharmed, and it warmed her to her toes. Since when had his chauvinistic, protective behavior been so comforting?
After reassuring himself that she was fine, his smile fell away, but he still didn’t say anything. He stared into her eyes, the pain and despair he was feeling muted but still present. Finally, he found his words.
“About last night, Cordy,” he began, but she shushed him.
“Angel, last night was a mess. We both said things we didn’t mean, or at least shouldn’t have said. We’re supposed to be working through our problems, not making them worse, right?”
He nodded, the relief at her easy acceptance exuding from every pore.
“So let’s just go see if Dr. Van Buren can fix the mess we made, okay?” Her smile was gentle, her eyes sparkling. “Besides, wouldn’t do to have you all broody and crap when we go to the session. I think she’s hot for that dark and silent thing you’ve got going.”
He looked startled, the frowned fiercely. “She is not hot for me, Cordelia.”
She rolled her eyes and pfft’d, then turned away to walk toward the doors, heading for the car. “Please, Angel. Women can tell these things about other women. She thinks you’re hot. She wants your butt, preferably naked. She practically has to wipe the drool off when you get all dark and broody in her office.”
“Whatever, Cordelia,” he said, shaking his head as he followed her, but not able to keep the smile from creeping onto his face. “So what if she is? I can’t exactly help it if women like how I look.”
She snorted in disbelief. “Yeah right, vamp guy. You love it that women drool over you. Admit it!” She was grinning cheekily as she opened the passenger door to the Plymouth and slid in.
He just shrugged as he slid in beside her. “It’s a distraction when women flirt with me. I don’t need that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop. Please! This is Cordy you’re talking to here. I’ve watched all the women parade in and out of your life since Buffy. The entire flirty, giggly lot of them.”
“There weren’t any giggly ones,” he countered, confirming her point even with that denial.
She smirked in triumph. “Oh, maybe not giggly ones. But maybe some of those,” she raised her voice to a high pitched, breathy note, clasped her hand over her heart, and mocked, “’Oh, Angel! Save me, please! With your big, strong muscles and your attractively spikey hair! And your swishy dark coat is so sexy, too!’” She pouted, still in character, and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “’You’re my hero, Angel! Take me to bed and love me forever!’”
Then she giggled hysterically at the chagrined look on his face. She watched, amazed, as the smile started at the corners of his mouth, then slowly consumed his entire face, until even his eyes were sparkling back at her. He lit up like a house afire, and it was beautiful. Quickly, her amusement turned to teary sorrow. Sorrow that this light moment and others like it were coming fewer and farther between. That they were losing the connection they once had even as their feelings for each other deepened.
Angel hadn’t noticed her distress, not yet, his eyes still on the road. He was grinning as he thought how accurately she’d mimicked some of the women he’d pulled out of harm’s way, and it made him laugh. So he did. A rich, deep, full bodied sound that wrenched Cordelia out of her pain and back into the joy of the moment. His joy, as fleeting as it was.
He said something to tease her back, continuing the banter and maintaining the veneer of normalcy that they fought so hard to keep lately. And in that sweet, perfect moment, she seized the day and forced down the pain. She had a lifetime of misery ahead of her, and she planned to make some good memories if she could.
***
If Cordelia had thought that Angel’s frowns were fierce, they didn’t hold a candle to Dr. Van Buren’s. The woman had asked for a run-down of their last homework session, and Cordelia had reluctantly complied, nearly everything spilling out in a play-by-play that was painful in its retelling. Dr. Van Buren’s frown had grown and grown, until her entire face contorted in a grimace that was nearly satanic.
They didn’t know that the distress within her over the time bomb of Angel’s curse had her quivering like a leaf. They only had two short weeks left before the proverbial shit hit the fan. Quickly finding a grip on her spiraling sanity, she channeled her nervousness into irritation at her patients.
“This is not promising,” she said darkly. “Are you sure you followed my instructions to the letter?” she asked accusingly.
Cordy frowned, affronted that she would ask that. “Of course we did! But what did you think would happen? Talking about our exes is a sore subject with both of us already. How would increasing our vulnerability make it any better?”
The psychiatrist was silent for a moment. She stood, pacing in front of the quiet couple on the couch. She stopped abruptly and faced them.
“I have to ask you to do something in front of me that will seem uncomfortable to you. But I ask that you trust me, for the good of your therapy.”
Angel and Cordelia nodded. they were used to this by now, or at least they should be.
“Very good then,” Dr. Van Buren nodded, satisfied with their compliance. “You.” She pointed to Angel. “Kiss her.” Her look entertained no idea of argument.
“Wh-What?” Cordelia gasped. Not this, not now. Please god, not now, not when she was so weak in her defenses against him.
Angel’s entire being tightened up at the doctor’s order. He quickly contained the bolt of desire that shot through him, and forced himself to maintain control. He turned to face Cordelia, his eyes shuttered.
Seeing his eyes so cut off from her strangely gave Cordelia strength. She was able to distance herself, shove her feelings down into the corner of her heart, and wait for his lips to claim hers.
“I did mean today,” Dr. Van Buren urged dryly, then sat down in the chair across from them. Angel just glared at her, then turned back to Cordy.
He met her gaze steadily, his eyes fathomless, and raised one cool hand to cup her jaw. He pulled her gently toward him, meeting her halfway, and softly settled his lips on hers.
Dr. Van Buren could have sworn she saw sparks when their lips met. She watched in fascination as Angel controlled the kiss, devouring Cordelia’s mouth in a way that made her own legs shake.
Cordelia had been unprepared for the onslaught of emotion when Angel’s lips touched hers. She gasped for breath at the jolt of electricity that passed between them, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders, then slide up to his neck and into his hair. She was drowning, and clinging to him was her only salvation.
His mouth melded to hers in a perfection of fit that seemed to defy logic. She tasted sweet and spicy at the same time, her strawberry lip gloss tantalizing his usually unresponsive taste buds, but it was the exotic flavor of Cordelia herself that etched at Angel’s control like acid on metal. He deepened the kiss, his tongue probing into her mouth and curling around hers, sweeping the dark interior and lapping up whatever taste of her he could find. He was drugged by the power of her, lost in the heady emotion of being so intimately connected with the woman he loved.
Cordelia pulled back just long enough to gasp for air, then resumed the contact almost as if they’d never separated at all. She worked at his iron will, every touch tantalizing him and tempting him further toward destruction. One thumb stroked over the place where his pulse point should’ve been, and that intimate touch, so important to a vampire, made him growl in painful frustration and release her.
Gasping for air, Cordelia stared at him with wonder. He chanced a look back at her, then quickly turned away. The provocative picture she made was too much of a temptation. The vision seared into his brain: her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, glistening eyes, rapid pulse. All of it swirled together into a cocktail so potent it threatened to consume him.
After a moment to get themselves together, Cordelia and Angel turned back to Dr. Van Buren, looks of accusation on their faces. Why she felt it necessary to put them through torture like that was beyond either of them.
The therapist stared back resolutely. “Thank you for your cooperation. I know that was difficult for the both of you, but it answered many questions for me.” She straightened up and stood, crossing her arms and positioning herself in front and above them.
“Now, I have several questions for you that may seem invasive and unnecessary, but I request, for the good of your therapy, that you answer them and answer them truthfully. Angel, I’ll begin with you.”
He struggled to regain the control of his emotions. Right now, all he wanted to do was flay the skin from her body for teasing him with Cordelia and then denying him. Now what would she make him do? Cut out his fingernails with a butter knife?
She was oblivious to the straining leash of his demon. “Angel, when you first began to feel angry with Cordelia last night, were any feelings of lust or sexual attraction involved?”
He nearly choked. “Yes,” he growled, trying not to hate the woman. God, she was cruel.
Cordy’s stomach clenched at that revelation. Their kiss had revealed his attraction to her, but she hadn’t known it had played a part last night.
Dr. Van Buren continued. “And as the massage progressed, did those feelings intensify, despite your attempts to control them?”
He nodded.
“I see,” she said, deep in thought. “When you got your angriest, were your feelings of lust equally strong?”
“Yes, damn it! Why the hell do we have to talk about this?” he yelled, his fists clenched. He’d had just about enough of this goddamn nonsense!
Her own eyes narrowed. “As we’ve discussed before, lust and passion with the two of you are interlinked. Strong feelings, strong emotions and lust are interlinked. Touch and lust are interlinked. The interaction between you just moments ago is evidence enough of that.
She paused as she clinically sorted through the facts. “It seems as though the underlying problem here isn’t the touching, as I’d first suspected. It’s the lust itself.”
They just stared at her, both too buzzed in too many ways to be active participants.
“Cordelia,” Dr. Van Buren turned to the trembling brunette.
“Wait,” Cordy interrupted her. “If you’re going to ask me the same questions you asked him, the answers are all yes. Okay?”
Dr. Van Buren nodded. “Very well. I see that we have made a break through with this discovery, and its clear to me that we must bring these feelings to the surface, to their most powerful, to be able to expel them and cleanse your relationship with one another. To bring back its purity.”
“Expel them?” Cordy said shakily. She kind of liked being hot for Angel, not that she’d ever say that out loud.
Angel’s thoughts were running a similar path. There was no way in hell he’d be able to ‘expel’ the lust he felt for Cordelia. Not when it was so firmly intertwined with the burgeoning love that threatened to consume his soul.
“Yes,” Dr. Van Buren confirmed. “Expel. Eradicate. Destroy.” She said each synonym with the rapid fire of a machine gun. The results were nearly as devastating. The couple felt as though the sofa had been yanked out from underneath them.
“I see only two outcomes from this present course,” Dr. Van Buren postulated. “One, you get so angry with one another that your relationship ceases to exist on any level. Two, you tamp down your emotions so much that you slowly drift apart, afraid to deepen your friendship for fear that you will destroy each other.”
Her conclusions echoed their own misgivings about their current path.
“I see only one viable treatment for this unenviable situation,” she concluded. She turned and faced them, her imperious stare pinning them both to the couch like a spider skewering its prey.
Cordelia and Angel waited with baited breath as the hammer poised to drop. They were not disappointed in the shocking revelation of their therapist.
“The only logical solution is that you sleep together.”