Falling for Hope Page 12

  “I love you, Hope. I’m glad I discovered you.”

  She pulled back and looked at him, eyes twinkling. “I’m glad you finally realized you’re mine.”

  Something in the way she said the words, made Gabe realize thoughts of her sister were forgotten. His mouth filled, and he swallowed, thickly. The invisible string in his gut broke, and he crashed his mouth against hers, reveling in the sensations of togetherness with this woman. His woman.

  Perseus let out a warning growl, before giving up and jumping off the bed.

  He pulled away, looking at her with the gleam in his eyes that he knew she liked. “You’ve got one thing wrong there.”

  "Oh yeah?"

  "You're mine." He kissed her slowly, and the warmth crept up from his belly as his hands filled themselves with her breasts. She kept crawling until she was in his lap. One arm stayed on her breast, while the other went around to knead on her behind.

  He growled into her kiss before trailing kisses down her jaw to take a mouthful of bosom. She arched her back and moaned, loudly, and Gabe couldn't help himself. His hand on her rear lifted her up and impaled her on his shaft, sinking himself into her sweet heat.

  All of the air left his body, as she rose up and down. He nibbled on her nipple while she continued arching and rocking on him. He rocked with her, meeting her hips with his. She rocked harder and faster, until Gabe thought he would lose control, and throw her back on the bed to pound into her again.

  He grabbed a fistful of her hair and stilled her hips. "Please, Hope. Slow down…I want to go slower this time." He kissed her neck. "Savor you." He kissed her shoulder. "We have all night…" He left a trail with his tongue down to her breast, where he circled her pretty pink areole before taking her into his mouth. She rose again, and he met her with a thrust, hearing her moan. He wanted to feel every inch of her skin inside and out, and he pushed and rocked to get deeper, fill her fuller.

  Together, like this, they were one, as God intended man and woman to be, and Gabe wanted to savor the experience. He wanted to be one with Hope for as long as possible before spilling inside of her. He thrust inside her, meeting her hips, raising her with his hands, before pulling her back down, controlling the pace, keeping it slow. He looked into her eyes to see a hazy fog of desire over them. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her mouth was open as she breathed out ragged breaths. Suddenly, she lurched out of his grasp and slammed herself down, and he felt her begin to tighten around him. He didn't think about the wonderful sensations this evoked in him. He wanted to see her pleasure. She closed her eyes, as she lifted herself again.

  "Open your eyes, Hope," he murmured through his own blissful sensations. She complied, opening her eyes so he could see the satisfaction there as she slammed herself down again. She rose and fell, to her own rhythm, seeking her pleasure, and he let her, thinking of her own bliss, as he felt her muscles contract around him, milking him. Gabe clenched his jaw tightly to not spill himself, and when she'd finished, she collapsed limply to his shoulder.

  He gently lay her back on the bed, not taking himself out of her, and began slowly pumping in and out. He kept the rhythm slow, experimenting with depth, until he discovered that her eyes widened when he went deep then went shallow, then deeper, then shallower, then deeper again. He could see her coming again, and he wanted to go with her. He kept up his rhythm and pace, until he couldn't take anymore of her tight wet heat. When she climaxed this time, he couldn't watch her, he was right there with her. When she milked his shaft, he was spilling his seed inside her, groaning her name loudly as she screamed his.

  He collapsed on top of her, and didn't know anything else until morning.

  Chapter 16

  When Hope awoke to the sounds of purring and mewling the next morning, there was nothing that could put a damper on her day. Memories of the night before, in Gabe's arms, his declarations at her parents' house, his undying devotion to her, filled her with a sense of peace she'd never known. She stretched, languidly, and looked over at her lover.

  Gabe was sprawled across the bed, a cat in every crook. Perseus was sharing his pillow, watching Hope with wide eyes. Hermes was perched on his chest, seeming to watch both of them to see who would get up first to feed him. Athena was between his knees, laying on her back, keeping an eye on Hope, waiting for her to get out of bed. Di was sitting up in the crook of Gabe's elbow, twitching his tail impatiently, staring at Hope with open hostility. Poseidon was on his feet, twitching his tail lazily.

  "Okay, okay. I’m getting up." She risked one last, lingering glance at her Romeo sleeping peacefully, with all her cats piled around him, before she stumbled into the kitchen to feed them. Once they were purring in the kitchen floor around their food bowls, Hope walked back to the bedroom, and crawled back into bed with Gabe. She still had a few minutes before work.

  Still sleeping, he rolled over and slung his arm over her hips, sighing heavily. Hope suppressed a giggle and kissed his nose. His face in repose took her breath away. Strong features were softened into boyish ones, and Hope wished he had been a child once, so she could know what he'd looked like. She regretfully got out of bed and went to the shower.

  On her way to work, Hope was humming to herself, and didn't notice the dark haired man in the middle of the street or the car that swerved to avoid him. She wasn't aware that she'd been hit broad-sided going fifty miles an hour. All she noticed was the darkness.

  Gabe awoke with a start, tossing cats off left and right. Something was wrong. Really wrong, and he had no idea what it was. He looked around the room, finding nothing amiss, except Hope was missing. Today was Friday, she would be at the library, so he shouldn't be worried.

  Except something wasn't right.

  He'd been dreaming. Gabe shook his head. Dreaming. That meant he was sleeping. He swung his feet out of the bed, and stooped to pull on his slacks from the night before. They were wrinkled and full of cat hair from being on the floor all night, but he had this niggling feeling at the base of his skull that something was terribly wrong.

  And Hope was in trouble.

  He started racing around her apartment, rushing to get out the door, but when he got to his car, he realized he had no idea where to go, other than the library. So that's where he went.

  She wasn't there. The younger lady at the circulation desk had shook her head, saying Hope hadn't shown up yet, and that wasn't like her at all. She tsked her tongue at his fleeing back as he raced down the stairs, shoving his way through the picket line, and tried to think.

  Back at his car, his fist hit the steering wheel in frustration. Where would she go? He didn't want to drive to her parents' house, especially if she wasn't there and worry them needlessly. Besides, why would she go to her parents? She had just seen them.

  Gabe leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, trying to focus his energy inward. He'd been dreaming of her. A nightmare.

  He grasped at the remnants of the dream, vague details without any context. There was a bed, but not hers. It was a red bed, blood red. Then a dragon, black, with red iridescent scales. Suddenly, he knew.

  The Deceiver had her.

  He had no idea how to get to her, though. Dejected, he started the car, and drove back to her apartment, not having the first clue about how to find Hope. Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the broken glass, the random piece of metal in the median. He slammed on the breaks, screeching to the curb and lowered his window.

  "Where's the nearest hospital?" His voice was unrecognizable, filled with panic. He’d been there, on his night-time visits, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. He was panicking and needed to calm down.

  A man stopped on the sidewalk next to his car. "It's up the road aways. Take a right on Parker Street, and it's down a couple of blocks on the left. You can't miss it."

  Gabe screeched out into traffic and followed the directions until he made it to the emergency entrance. Leaving his car illegally parked, he ran insid
e.

  When he found her, Gabe's breath left him. He'd found her.

  But she was broken.

  Tubes came from everywhere, snaking around her battered body, hooked up to machines that were pumping life into her. She was in a coma, the nurse said. So sorry.

  Gabe grabbed her hand, clasping it tightly, willing his new life-force inside her.

  "Hope. Can you hear me?" Nothing. "Oh God." His eyes leaked, and he swiped the tears away furiously. Now was not the time for human emotions. He had to save her. He closed his eyes, and laid hands on her, pouring power from his fingertips into her body. Nothing. No response. Not even a flicker of her eyelids. Just the incessant beeping of the heart monitor.

  Suddenly, the fleetingness of life hit him. He realized then what a fine thread strung between life and death. Any moment, anything can happen. A thin thread tied a tenuous knot on life, and at any moment the threat could be cut, or the knot untied. A tremor of fear swept through Gabe.

  "God!" Gabe lost all control. "Boss!" He was yelling, calling to his maker. A nurse answered him.

  "Sir, you can't yell in here. I'm terribly sorry, but we have other patients that can hear and need their rest to heal," she admonished him.

  Gabe mumbled an apology and sank into a chair next to Hope. He squeezed her hand, then brought it to his lips. When it dropped, it was covered in his tears, and he just let them fall. He lowered his head to her hip, and inhaled the scent of Hope. She smelled like a hospital, but under that, he could smell her. His Hope. His hope. She smelled of pinwheels, and daffodils, and cats, and brimstone.

  He had her.

  If he could get his hands on the Deceiver, he would kill him.

  "Hope…" His voice was weak with tears. He was exhausted. Drained, he laid his head down and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 17

  Hope was hot, but it wasn't an external, the sun is bearing down on you kind of hot. It was an internal, your insides are on fire kind of hot. She wasn't sweating, and that made it worse. She felt like an Easy-Bake Oven.

  She opened her eyes to see a cave that had been painted red, and she was in a bed with sheets that put her Egyptian cotton to shame, they were so soft. But it was so hot.

  A quick perusal of the room told her she wasn't alone. The shadows moved with humanoid shapes. But the things with her weren't quite human, if they ever had been. There were arms and legs and heads, but they were all out of proportion and misshapen somehow. And they had tails and wings. Enormous wings.

  A pair of red, glowing eyes slitted open, looking at her from a rather large shadow in the corner. A fear unlike any she'd ever known gripped Hope, and she stifled a scream of sheer terror. She was paralyzed, and had no way of knowing if it was from fear, or from some supernatural force. But she could only watch as an enormous head slowly revealed itself from the shadows. It was a demon's head.

  It was Mr. Butterfly.

  Hope fainted.

  In her hospital room, Gabe was awakened by a steady beeeeeeeeping noise. In a matter of seconds, the room was full of people with carts and instruments, telling him to leave.

  "She's mine." He managed a choked whisper, as he watched Hope's lifeless body being worked on. He'd been pushed back into a corner, where he watched helplessly as doctors and nurses worked to resuscitate Hope. They injected her. They shouted instructions. They used electric paddles. Her body jumped on the bed, and they did it all again. And Gabe could only watch.

  He managed to mumble a weak prayer, never in his entire existence thinking he would need one.

  When the beeping regained its short, staccato bursts, he realized that they had done it, and his knees gave out with relief. Gabe sank to the floor, unable to comprehend the horror he'd just witnessed, and the horror he'd dreamed before Hope had crashed.

  He'd seen her, felt her fear, seen the Deceiver in his true form. And he had no idea what he had in mind for her.

  It was a bone-deep, debilitating fear, that he had no idea how to control. He couldn't focus on anything except her heart, racing in her chest. He'd felt her panic. She'd recognized the Deceiver, she knew him.

  He'd been contacting her somehow.

  A shadow fell over Gabe, and he saw a pair of scuffed motorcycle boots as they stopped in front of him. He looked up into the silver gray eyes of his brother.

  "Michael?"

  "I got a message from Dad. He sent me. Said you needed help." He put a hand out to Gabe.

  "I don't know what to do, Michael. The Deceiver has her, and I've got to get her back. She's mine." Realizing he sounded like a child, Gabe shut up and took Michael's hand, allowing him to help him up.

  Michael walked over to the bedside, and looked down at Hope. "Have you seen her? Is she alright?"

  "She's scared witless. I've got to get her out."

  "Does she know you can see her?"

  Gabe shook his head. "I don't think so."

  A movement from his peripheral vision caught Gabe's attention. A tall auburn-headed youth, and a slightly older blonde man came into the room. They rushed to Gabe, the blond hugging him, clapping his back in support.

  "We just heard, man. How is she?"

  Tears welled again, and Gabe was helpless to stop them. "I don't know, Rafael. Can you help her?"

  He walked over to the bed, Michael giving him room. Rafe held his hands out above her body, scanning for injuries. He looked up at Gabe, his face showing nothing. "Since I fell man, mostly all I can do is colds and headaches. But I'll give it a shot." He looked at the blond man. "Uri, you want to help me?"

  "I'll do what I can." Uriel looked at Gabe. "You can still dream walk can't you? You and Michael go in, and Rafe and I will work this side." He walked over to Gabe, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It'll be okay. You'll make it through this." His eyes were sympathetic, and Gabe knew that Uri understood. He'd gone through the change. He knew what it was to love a woman. He understood Gabe's panic and helplessness right now, even if he'd never lived through this exact same thing.

  Gabe turned to Michael, who was looking at them all with contempt. "Whatever the fuck this touchy-feely shit is, I'm here to kick some Deceiver ass." He looked at Gabe. "Can you get me in?"

  Gabe nodded. "I think so."

  "Let's do this."

  When Hope came too, a dragon towered over her. Hope could see charred black reptilian skin, covered with iridescent red scales. It would have been beautiful, if it wasn't for its face. Like the design on Mr. Butterfly, it had elongated eye sockets, with beady red eyes shining out. A long, pointy snout with tendrils of smoke curling out of the nostrils, and an enormous tongue snaking out of its jaw. The entire beast had an odor of burning meat and sulfur radiating from it.

  Hope was repulsed by the fact that its scales appeared to be sloughing off in giant sheets.

  "Different, isn't it?" The dragon was speaking to her in an incredibly civilized, and slightly familiar voice. "It took me awhile to get accustomed to the place myself." It looked around, swinging its enormous head from side to side, as if unaware of the panic it incited in Hope. She shrank back, afraid something might fall from it. A scale. A drop of saliva. A piece of rotting flesh.

  She knew she had to stay sane in this place. She had no idea where she was, or how to escape, but she was pretty sure she wasn't anywhere she could just run outside and flag a taxi…

  "Who are you?" Hope tried to keep her fear from her voice. Something told her that she didn't need to be cowering from this beast, even though that's all she wanted to do.

  "My latest nom de plume would be Damien. I am known as Satan, Beelzebub, the Devil, the Deceiver, Lucifer, or more recently, Mr. Butterfly." His head lowered to hers, and Hope couldn't help cringing. "My apologies…It's my appearance, isn't it? Let's try this…" Hope gaped, wide-eyed, as the enormous dragon shrank and morphed with hissing and creaking bones into an attractive man with olive skin, and jet black hair. His eyes were ebony, the color of coal. Soulless. Her mother had tried to set her up with the Devil.
"Is that better?"

  Not really. She nodded, afraid to disagree. He walked closer to her, sniffing the air around the bed she was laying in. "I really thought that the dragon would be alright. I thought you had an affinity for the paranormal?"

  "I-I- I'm not sure anymore."

  "But archangels are okay? Just not big scary dragons?" He waved his hands around theatrically, enjoying himself. His tone softened. "I used to be one, you know."

  "O-One what?"

  "An archangel." He was flippant. "But I displeased Him, so He cast me down here, put me in charge of the damned." His black eyes sparkled with a flame of desire. "All I want is something good, Hope." Slowly, he stretched out a finger, and traced Hope's jawline. "You're good, Hope. I know this. We've spent time together. I've gotten to know you pretty well." His knuckle grazed her chest, and Hope looked down to see she was naked. Shamed, she moved to cover herself. "So beautiful, so sweet." His eyes held hers. "And soon you'll be mine."

  Hope shook her head. It wasn't a conscious action, but she could no longer hide her disgust at the idea of staying here. In the shadows on the edges of the room, the dark humanoid shapes hissed and moved. Damien saw her eyes dart over there.

  "Oh those are some of my pets. They'll do anything for you. Just ask." He snapped his fingers. Out of the rustling shadows came a rust red creature that looked like it used to be human, almost. Its skin was burned orange, and flaked off in long strips. Its lower jaw was gone, and its eyes had been stitched shut. Hope recoiled in horror.

  "They can't talk, but they can hear you. Tell them what you want, Hope. They're really quite accommodating."

  "D-did they used to be…people?"

  He appeared to think, looking at the ceiling as if the answer was written up there. "I'm not sure, honestly. Were any of the damned ever really people? Some could argue either way." He advanced upon her. "Nothing you want, Hope? Nothing at all?"