Chapter 21
Cordelia peered through the car’s windshield to get a better view of Angel’s home. The full moon provided some light, allowing her to make out the over-grown foliage that tangled up and around the mansion.
It wasn’t the gothic horror that her stressed brain had conjured up as they had left the drug store and drove further into the darkness but it was plenty creepy.
She swore dead bony fingers crept off the trellis by the door and wickedly beckoned her inside.
Cordelia fought down the sudden image of Angel inside the mansion, leisurely rising from a lavish coffin with blood dripping from his fangs onto his formal evening wear and a black cape flowing behind him.
No way SHE was sleeping in a coffin.
Cordelia snuck a glance out the rear window, watching Angel unpack the trunk. He was outfitted in his familiar black leather coat and dark sweater, not a bloody tuxedo. She looked again at the front of the house. The boney fingers were now just untamed wisteria.
“Arggh.” Cordelia smacked her head. Horror clichés had been hijacking her imagination.
But it wasn’t her fault. Angel’s mansion was smack in the middle of one of scariest parts of Sunnydale, excluding the cemeteries. West Heaven, decades ago, had been the affluent neighborhood. But, over the years the residents had abandoned their expensive homes one by one. By the time Cordelia had been born, it had been nicknamed West Hell, and was nothing but broken hulking mansions surrounded by eerie tangled plant life. It had been common knowledge when she was a little that West Hell was haunted, and that was coming from a populace that was still blissfully unaware that such things were possible.
And she had agreed to stay there. Cordelia might has well have said she’d put up a tent in the cemetery.
“Cordy? Cordelia?”
Angel was reaching for the door.
Sudden uncontrollable panic brought her hand to the lock.
Her eyes widened. He was using her keys to unlock the car door. She clutched at the handle trying to hold the door closed.
She wrinkled her brow as he tapped on the window.
She hesitated a moment before rolling the window down an inch.
“I can rip it off its hinges if you prefer,” he said calmly.
Cordelia froze. He had to be bluffing. Except she just didn’t see it in his determined expression.
She let go of the door handle, crossing her arms against her chest. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her.
Angel opened the door, kneeling down on the ground. “What’s wrong, Cordy?”
Cordelia’s head jerked down at the concern in his dark eyes.
She was being nuts and Angel was being nice. She was just letting her exhaustion and Bruno’s break-in get the best of her.
Cordelia got out of the car. She narrowed her gaze as Angel’s hand disappeared with her keys into his pants pocket. The odds of him giving them to her tonight were slim after her panic attack. But he would have to give them back tomorrow so she could go to school. Then she would retake the course of her life and find another motel.
“Cordelia, why are you scared? No one will hurt you here.”
Cordelia’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not scared.” She huffed at his doubtful expression. “I …” She couldn’t tell him that while his swooping in and taking over had made her feel safer, it also just made her feel nervous and even more helpless- and she hated those feeling more than anything, even fear.
“Its this place.” She pointed to the looming dark entrance. “It’s probably haunted. I’m not sleeping with the ghosts of the most-likely murdered former owners.”
Angel took a step back. “It was abandoned when I moved in. I didn’t…”
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Duh.” She waved her hand. “This whole neighborhood was deserted before you ever showed up in Sunnydale. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t ghosts. The people that used to live here were probably murdered by some Hellmouthy thing.”
Angel bent down to pick up the bags. “There aren’t any ghosts.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I live here. No ghosts.”
“You’re dead. Maybe they don’t mind one of their own as a roommate.”
“If there was a territorial ghost I’m sure I would know about it, dead or not.”
“Hmmph.” Cordelia leaned back into the car, grabbing her purse and drug store purchase.
“Cordy.” He handed her a set of keys — unfortunately, not hers. “Just go unlock the door, I’ll get the bags.”
***
Angel kept his eyes on Cordelia as he reached back into the car to snatch up the plastic bags. She didn’t really believe that there were any ghosts or she wouldn’t be going towards the house. But there was no denying that for a brief moment, Cordelia had panicked.
“Ouch!”
“What?” Angel shoved the plastic bags on the front seat of the car, dropping the suitcase and ran to her.
“It bit me.” She yelled and pointed.
Angel looked around, sensing nothing. “There are no biting ghosts, Cordelia.”
“Uh uh.” She stuck out her injured leg for inspection.
Tiny drops of blood beaded along the abrasion on her thigh, releasing a scent that exploded through his body.
Angel pushed down her leg and took a deep breath, struggling to beat down his instincts. Worried eyes searched for Cordelia’s fear and disgust.
“Hey. What’d you do that for? I’m hurt,” she whined.
Angel gulped at her obliviousness to his intense reaction. His hand came back towards her, steadying her. “I’m sorry.” Angel said, trying to bring normality to his voice. ” -Cordy, there’s nothing here.”
“There’s that,” she snapped, cautiously reaching out to feel the stone, tracing the features of a large growling lion.
“It’s just a statue, it can’t bite.”
“Can too.” She pushed up her leg again.
“STOP.” Angel jerked away from her.
“I don’t like it here.”
“Cordelia.”
“I don’t. It’s dark and spooky. And okay, so the Chinese restaurant reject didn’t bite me. It still hurts. And you’re a way too bossy.”
Angel cringed at the high-pitched whine even as he picked up on exhaustion he heard beneath her complaints. “Come on.” He picked her up.
“Hey.”
“Just unlock the door. Or did you drop the key when you were attacked ,” Angel said with forced nonchalance.
“Not funny,” she grumbled. “I can’t see the lock. Haven’t you ever heard of outdoor lights?”
Angel shifted her weight in his arms, taking his keys from her hand and fitted the correct one into the lock.
He carried her to the sofa. “Stay there.” He moved quickly to the lamp by the armchair, distancing himself from her. “Better?”
Cordelia looked around in the soft glow. “Yeah. A light that only a dressing room would love.”
Cordelia shifted on the worn velvet cushions. “Yuck,” she grumbled at the cut on her leg.
“Stay right there.” Angel jerked his eyes away from her finger poking at the bleeding cut. He strode quickly for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I…to get the bags.”
Angel stood outside the door, breathing in the night air. It didn’t help, his body still vibrated, and his demon still strained against its leash.
He grunted at the ornate lion that guarded the entrance of the mansion as his fist smashed the skull of the cement beast. His leg swung out, decapitating the stone lion’s duplicate posted on the other side of the doorway.
Angel felt better at the destruction.
***
Angel walked back into the mansion, dropping Cordelia’s bags next to the door and taking the others to the kitchen. His eyes focused on his feet, rather than Cordelia sitting on the couch.
Angel’s hand rested on the top cabinet door. He would not let his sudden extreme reaction control his behavior. He grabbed at the first aid kit left behind after one of Buffy’s post patrolling visits and went back into the living room.
“Your leg.” Angel knelt down in front of Cordelia.
“Huh?”
Angel held up the first aid kit.
“Oh.” Cordelia moved her leg towards Angel.
“You took your boots off.” Angel rocked back on his heels as her bare leg brushed his fingers.
“You want your,” she leaned over the cushions of the sofa to look at the hardwood not covered by the worn area rug, “scruffy hardwood to get scruffier?”
“No.” Angel stared at her olive-cream thigh. His eyes moved over smooth flesh, firm thigh, slim ankle, and bright red toenails. She was beautiful.
“Hey.” Cordelia squirmed, as his fingers made soft patterns with the pad of his fingertips. “That tickles.” She jerked her leg back.
“Sorry.” Angel took a deep breath and stilled his hand. “Just don’t move.”
Blood seeped out of the cut, still bubbling in small circles. It was a magnetic for his eyes, drawing him deeper into Cordy’s scent. He fingers pressed into malleable flesh, stopping only when Cordy’s soft gasp floated up to his ears.
He flexed his fingers away from her thigh, reaching into the first aid box, taking out a section of gauze. He wetted his lips as he forced the gauze to pat and sooth Cordelia’s thigh.
“I think — “
“Be quiet.” Angel interrupted.
“You can’t tell me to shut up.” She pushed at his shoulders.
His incisors scrapped along his tongue as he clenched his jaw tight.
“Oh, give me that.” Cordelia grabbed at the gauze. “You’re acting SO weird.” Cordelia’s gaze shot up to his. “Oh my god. You’re not hungry are you?” She tried to scoot away from him. “I’m NOT food.”
Angel blew out a breath of air, not sure how to respond. He tugged the gauze from her hand.
“Don’t be stupid.”
Cordelia’s back stiffened. “Stupid?” she protested. “Vampire.” She jabbed at him. “Blood.” She pointed to the wound that he was covering with the gauze. “Not stupid. STUPID would be not to think it. This could,” she pointed to her leg again, ” be like mint chocolate chip ice cream too you, irresistible. How do I know?”
“I don’t like mint chocolate ice cream.” He got up, taking the first aid kit and blood-spotted gauze into the kitchen.
“You wouldn’t say that if you ever had it,” she shouted at his back. “Mint chocolate ice cream IS irresistible.”
***
Cordelia ran her finger over her bandage, happy that the stinging had stopped and no blood got on her dress. She yawned and glanced around the room with interest.
Her eyes adjusted to the low lighting and she could see fully into the sparsely furnished room. She swung her feet to the floor, only to jerk her feet right back onto the sofa. The wooden floor was freezing.
Cordelia bent over and stretched out her arms, her fingers straining to reach the edge of her duffle bag.
With a quick tug she pulled the bag closer, digging into the bag and pulling out a pair of socks.
Once her feet were appropriately covered, Cordelia got off the couch and wandered around the room, wrapping her arms around her waist to ward off the chill. She eyed the heavy curtains and tested the weight with her fingers. They would never let in the sun’s warmth or light.
She circled the room and stopped in front of the marble fireplace. She reached out and dragged her finger along the mantle. Not a speck of dust. She looked around again to the table and cabinet. They were also dust free. Cordelia appraised them with a practiced eye. They were plain in design, but they also had the undeniable stamp of exceptional workmanship and age.
Cordelia frowned, wondering if they came with the house. She shook her head. Anyone who placed ornate stone lions in front of their house wouldn’t want anything so simple, even if they were valuable antiques.
She studied the room again. The sofa needed to be recovered, the Oriental rug needed to be replaced, and the exposed hardwood needed some serious polishing but otherwise the room was neat and tasteful. Not her taste particularly- the room was too bare to be homey and even the faded colors were too dark. But she still kind of liked it.
Cordelia headed to the book-laden table, scanning the titles – classics in the original languages, not one written past the 19th century. Cordelia eyed the antiques with less favor than before. Angel was either someone that refused to change with the times or was an intellectual show off.
It reminded her too much of her father, dropping names of famous dead composers, not because he liked Bach or Tchaikovsky, but because he thought it made him sound sophisticated.
She shrugged and headed back to the sofa, rifling through her drug store purchase. She pulled out the current issue of Soap Opera Digest and went to the armchair. She took her jacket off and used it as a blanket as she tucked her legs underneath her. She yawned again and began to read.
Chapter 22
Angel leaned against the kitchen counter, the gauze still crumbled in his hand. The gnawing hunger kept his muscles tense. He threw the gauze in the trash. He shouldn’t be having this reaction.
Human blood would always be at temptation, but one he had learned to control over the years. It was more of an afterthought than an urge, unless…unless, he was injured or hungry.
Angel went to the refrigerator for some blood. He kept track of Cordelia’s movements, making sure that she was still in the living room, even as he gulped at the thick substance.
Finally satiated, he dropped the mug in the sink and started to unpack the drug store bags, thinking back over his actions over the course of the evening.
It wasn’t just hunger, he decided. His sole attention had been concentrated on getting Cordelia to safety. His normal control over his demon had been distracted by the threat to her. And it hadn’t helped that he had willingly let a little of it show to confront Bruno or that he that he had been frustrated when he hadn’t found him later.
Angel continued to put away the groceries, his mind persuaded at his reasoning. The house settled into silence.
He looked up suddenly, realizing that there was no more movement from the main room. He patted his pocket and felt the outline of Cordelia’s keys. She couldn’t go anywhere. He listened more intently, doubly reassured when he heard her heartbeat.
Angel placed the last can of soup in the cupboard, curious as to what was keeping Cordelia so quiet. He wadded up the bags and stuffed them in the trashcan. Then he walked quietly out the kitchen and paused in the hallway.
Cordelia was curled up tight in his armchair fast asleep.
The steady rise and fall of her breath drew him closer. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the simple pattern, allowing it to open his senses.
A content smile slowly formed as the gentle breeze of her breath brought the fragrance of wildflowers around him. Its freshness mingled with the spice of her sensuality and richness of her blood, all parts equal, all soothing. He breathed in, his chest beginning to rise and fall, mimicking the actions of Cordelia’s. Tension flowed away from his body with each copied breath.
Angel swayed on his feet, his eyes snapping open. He shook his head, rubbing his face. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. But, he was relieved that the blood had worked and his demon was calm.
“Cordy,” Angel said softly, brushing a strand of dark hair.
“Mmm.” Cordelia slapped at his hand.
“Cordy, wake up.” Angel tried again.
Cordelia shook her head, her eyes still closed in sleep.
Angel sighed, slipping his arm around her waist, ducking her swinging hand.
He lifted her up in his arms, taking her up the stairs.
As he walked, he looked down at her, feeling the weight and warmth of her body.
“Mmm, where am I going?” she mumbled into his chest.
“Bed,” he said softly.
Cordelia shook her head. “Not sleeping in a coffin.”
Angel raised an amused brow. “Good. I don’t have one.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, snuggling further.
Angel bumped open the bedroom door with his hip, taking Cordelia to his bed. He knelt at the edge, pulling at the blanket before placing her on the mattress.
Cordelia turned immediately away, her arms reaching for a pillow.
Angel leaned up, a frown moving over his face as she buried into the bedding further away from him.
He got up and tucked the quilt over her before backing towards the door, his arms feeling annoyingly empty. He stared for a moment then quickly turned and closed the door after him.
Angel reluctantly moved further down the hall. He stood outside the other bedroom, staring at the stripped mattress. He turned and headed back through the hallway until he got to a closet, taking out some bedding. Then he went back to a room that hadn’t been used since Drusilla and Spike left. Consciously, he knew that their scents would’ve disappeared but the memory of his time without a soul still made him uncomfortable.
Abruptly, he turned and headed back into his bedroom. He paused to look at Cordelia in his bed. She was snuggled deep into the blanket, with one of his pillows squeezed in her arms. If he closed his eyes, he knew he would not only hear the rhythm of her breath and heartbeat but also feel them.
He stealthily moved towards his dresser, digging to the bottom and retrieved Cordy’s gym shirt. Then he went back to the spare bedroom no longer concerned whether Spike’s and Drusilla scent lingered.
Chapter 23
Cordelia burrowed into the mattress pulling the sable-colored quilt tight around her. She groaned, as her mind was no longer able to deny the shivers racing over her skin.
She sat up and the bedspread huddled around her. The last thing she remembered was reading her magazine and trying to figure out what to tell Miss Twittle.
Angel must have brought her here. The question was, where was “here”? She yawned. Did she really care?
She ran her hand over the mattress feeling the luxury of the sheets. She was impressed. The thread count had to be at least 800. She spread her hand out further. Big bed, too. It was the most comfortable thing she had slept in since her bed was sold.
She fingered the stitched blanket around her body – velvet- she nodded in appreciation at its softness. It would, in fact, be wonderful if it offered more warmth than a double sheet.
She rolled to the side of the bed and fumbled at the lamp on the nearby table. Her fingers felt up the brass, then down, finally sighing when she found the light switch.
She rolled her eyes as the bulb let out dim glow. Didn’t Angel believe in bulbs higher than 25 watts?
She didn’t see any other blankets in the room nor did she see her bag anywhere. She had half a mind to yell for Angel. After all, he was the one who put her there without her stuff. She yawned again.
Her eyes searched the room and, seeing a dresser, she got out of the bed.
She arched her eyebrow when she saw the contents of the first drawer. Angel had put her in his room. She shrugged. If he wanted to sleep on the sofa or where ever — who was she to complain? She pulled out a sweater. Then she tugged at another drawer, shaking her head. How many variations of black could Angel have? Her eyes widened. It was better than she hoped. Angel also wore sweats and t-shirts.
Happily, Cordelia took her finds back to the bed, stripping out of her dress and changing into Angel’s clothes. She snuggled back into the bed and squished one of the two king-size feather pillow under her head, feeling a lot warmer. Her last thoughts before she fell back to sleep was that if Angel got mad, she would remind him it was his fault for not bringing up her stuff.
***
Cordelia bolted up in the bed. She squinted at the haze of sunlight that streamed from behind the heavy curtains. Her eyes shot around the room until they rested on a digital bedside clock.
“Oh, CRAP!” She jumped out of the bed, running to the door.
The door swung open and she stumbled.
Angel reached out, catching her. “Cordy? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
She blinked, her hand going to her forehead. “Is it bleeding?”
“The door?”
“My head. You hit me!”
“I’m sorry.” Angel pulled at her hand to look at her forehead. “Your head’s not bleeding.”
“Is it red, bruised, ugly, deformed?”
Angel brushed at the skin with his finger, trailing down along her temple and cheekbone to tuck a wild strand of hair behind her ear. “Barely pink.”
Cordelia jerked up her hand, knocking his away and felt for herself. Okay. No nasty bump and it didn’t really hurt.
“Get out of my way.” She pushed past him.
“Cordy? What’s—.” Angel’s hand still hung in mid-air.
Cordelia spun around. “Okay, where’s the bathroom?” She fisted her hands on her hips.
Angel pointed to the second doorway.
Cordelia ran and opened the door. “You do have water? Hot water?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She turned to go in and came back out. “Towels, clean ones?”
Angel moved a little closer and pointed. “Behind the door.”
Cordelia stepped in and closed the door. She nodded, seeing the neatly folded towels, and swung the door open again. “Okay. Now get my bags, and put them there.” She pointed to a spot on the floor outside the bathroom and slammed the door.
Cordelia quickly untied the sweats, jerking them off as she turned on the hot water.
She winced as she ripped off the bandage on her leg, tossing it in the toilet when she didn’t see a trashcan.
As soon as the rest of her nightclothes hit the floor, she got in the shower. “Wow.” She said. Her frantic need to rush stalled as the water washed over her. The pressure and temperature were perfect.
Cordelia closed her eyes, turning her body to let the massaging spray beat over each inch of her body and scalp. She was in heaven.
Damn. She didn’t want to go to school. She wanted to stay in the shower forever. She opened her eyes and looked around. It was so big … and the tub … Cordelia pouted at the sparkling porcelain. She wanted to take a bath. Damn, school.
“Cordy? Are you all right?” Angel’s voice came through the door.
“No.” She glanced around some more, eyeing the bar of soap tucked into the wall. “Eww.” She didn’t want to leave the shower, but she couldn’t use that soap. It was probably harsh, man soap. She poked her head around the translucent shower curtain.
“Angel.” She yelled. “Are you still out there?”
“Yes.”
“In my suitcase, there is a Dior plastic bag. I need it.”
“Um.”
“Hurry.”
“Um…I’m going to have to come in.”
“Just toss it in, but, don’t open the door too much, you’ll let the steam out. Hurry.”
Cordelia sighed as a big cosmetic bag was tossed in through a small crack. “Shut the door!” She yelled, as precious steam traveled towards the opening.
Cordelia pushed aside the shower curtain and knelt down to the bag, pulling out shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a bath scrunchy, and a razor.
***
Cordelia squeezed the excess water out of the bath scrunchy and hung it over the shower nozzle. She smiled and batted the duck face that made the net-scrunchy cute.
She stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped a big towel around her. She rubbed her hand along the thick fluffy cotton then looked down at the sweater she had taken off. A silk and wool blend. Angel really liked to have soft and expensive things against his skin.
She picked up her watch from the sink. “Double crap.”
Cordelia opened the door. “Why are you still out here?” She pushed at her falling wet hair and looked up at Angel, her other hand keeping a tight hold on her towel.
“I …I thought, maybe, you would need something else.”
“Nope.” She grabbed her suitcase and duffle bag, pulling them in and shutting the door.