Chapter 25
Gabriel
For the fourth consecutive night, Gabriel stood at the foot of the stairs, listening to Nicholas cry in his room.
It was the same every day. Silent tears preceded self-pleasure that ended in more heartache, shame, and yearning.
Gabriel could feel his suffering, willingly opening himself to it while ensuring Nicholas couldn’t detect his.
He refused to feed from Gabriel, rejected the bagged blood left at his door, and wouldn’t allow Gabriel anywhere near him.
The latter stemmed from resentment, but he also feared giving in to his urge for Gabriel.
The redolence of that fear mingled amongst his arousal and a scent Gabriel prohibited himself from lingering on.
The shower cut on, the rush of water interfering with whatever sounds and scents Nicholas may have been unknowingly projecting. But Gabriel could still feel him, could feel how heavily this new burden pressed down on him.
Dropping the stub of his hand-rolled it into the empty tumbler, Gabriel strode for the kitchen with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t lure Nicholas out of his room with blood, then he’d entice him with food.
It would be a poor substitute for the nourishment he needed. Eating when it was thirst that ailed him wouldn’t accomplish much, but it would appeal to the one thing Nicholas fiercely attempted to cling to. His humanity.
Gabriel began to doubt his bright idea when he finished the simple chicken and rice dish, and there was still no sign of Nicholas. Would he have to resort to dousing him in blood, triggering a feeding frenzy?
He’d just set Nicholas’s plate on the dining table when he heard the soft click of a bedroom door unlocking. Gabriel straightened, turning as Nicholas descended the stairs with cautious steps. He stopped at the bottom of the landing, gripping the banister as he met Gabriel’s concerned stare.
“Nicholas…”
His cheeks were concave, his eyes stark, his expression near rabid.
“You can’t go on like this. You have to—”
“You cooked.” He sounded numb, like part of his soul had been left at the bottom of the cliff. Gabriel supposed it had.
“Yes, will you eat with me?”
Nicholas’s grip tightened on the banister.
“You can eat at the table, and I’ll sit in the kitchen.”
He narrowed his eyes in clear distrust before dipping his chin, but didn’t move until Gabriel settled in front of his own plate at the island.
Gabriel forced himself to appear preoccupied with his own food, even going so far as to scroll on his phone while eating. He checked to make sure his emotions were locked down, not wanting Nicholas to feel the contrition wearing away at him.
From his periphery, he watched Nicholas lower onto his chair, leaning over his plate and taking a whiff of it. He froze, a cool draft skimming Gabriel’s cheek, carrying the fragrance of Nicholas’s hunger—and arousal. He must have picked up Gabriel’s scent.
Gabriel held his breath as he got the sense that Nicholas was listening for it, maybe wondering if Gabriel could smell the lust on him. He slid from his stool, and Nicholas’s gaze jerked to him, full of alarm.
“There’s a nice breeze tonight.” He pushed the button to open the patio wall, and the smell of salt water crashed in. It would help drown out Gabriel’s scent, allowing Nicholas to breathe freely, to be… human.
The cry of the ocean called to Gabriel, and he idled there a moment longer, letting it wash over him. It had been too long since he’d had a swim.
“Eat before it gets cold,” he said softly.
Gabriel wanted to be the one to feed him, to kneel at his bare feet and bleed for him, too. But what he wanted seemed insignificant in the face of what Nicholas needed, and he needed time. Sadly, he also seemed to crave distance—or complete severance.
Gabriel retook his seat, feeling Nicholas’s frustration build with every bite he forced down. He grunted, eating faster and chewing less as satiation eluded him.
“Can I have something to drink? Water,” he added quickly.
Gabriel filled a glass, sliding it down the table to prevent getting too close to him. Nicholas took a sip, then another, then guzzled it down before pitching the glass across the room with a modified curse. It shattered against the foyer wall.
The moment became charged, as if they both balanced on the razor-sharp edge of it. Nicholas panted, sending his plate to the floor with a swipe of his forearm.
“You need blood, Nicholas.”
“Stop telling me what I need! This is my life!”
His words were hostile, and so was his delivery of them. But his cheeks were flushed a delicate pink, his soft lips quivered, and his doe eyes still held a bit of tenderness. He wasn’t built for cruelty, no matter how hard he tried.
Gabriel realized he’d been staring for too long, and that his gaze held undiluted affection. He turned away, but too late. Nicholas shot up from his chair, disappearing through the patio wall.
With a sigh, Gabriel cleaned up the mess, giving Nicholas ample time alone before joining him outside.
“Why do I feel so violent?” He sounded dispassionate, eyes trained on the ocean that nearly claimed him as Gabriel took the seat farthest away from where he was sitting.
“We are a primal species born to aggression and the instinct to hunt. The laws of Saraad sought to suppress those urges, to make docile what nature intended to be untamed. It worked in most cases. We were taught from young how to control ourselves, how to go against our natural instincts. The task was easier for some than for others. And some of us found ways around it.”
Nicholas frowned.
“As with any society, we had our criminals. Our muggers and murderers, rapists and pedophiles. Those who thrived on abandoning the rules and restrictions, and those who were born with certain proclivities. The sickest of us. They enabled people like me, and the council, to indulge in our baser needs while pretending we had the moral high ground.”
“Those were the people you hunted and killed. The criminals.”
Gabriel met his stare.
“Yes. I could only imagine how feral we would’ve been had we been allowed human contact.”
“Were you careless when you left Saraad?”
They were moving into perilous territory now, because the truth would only make Gabriel look worse in Nicholas’s eyes.
“Yes.”
“How many people died because of it?”
“Too many to count.” He’d feasted on human blood, glutted himself, and lacked the self-control to be smart about it.
“How many people have you killed since finding out about me?”
Nicholas planted his feet on the ground, focusing intently on him.
“Kyrin’s men. There were eighteen of them.”
“Anyone else?”
Gabriel paused. “One other.”
The silence swelled.
“Who? Who, Gabriel?!”
Gabriel tightened his core against the ribbon of fear knotting itself inside him. All the others he could explain away. They’d been bad people after all. But this one, although a sinner, hadn’t deserved to die for his transgression. At least Nicholas wouldn’t think so.
“Who?”
“Your judge.”
His forehead wrinkled. “My…”
If Gabriel thought he couldn’t get any lower in Nicholas’s eyes, he’d been wrong. Right then, his gaze said he was disturbed, horrified, and slightly scared of the man in front of him.
“Why?” he breathed.
“Because he’d had you, and because you were… Because I thought you were mine.”
He left out the part about Mr. Dalton violating Nicholas’s privacy by recording their interaction. That would’ve only embarrassed him, and truth be told, Gabriel would’ve killed the man regardless.
“Look at me, Nicholas.” Gabriel kept his tone soft but firm. “See me.”
The time for pretending was over. Nicholas could be upset with him, could even believe he hated him, but he would no longer pretend he didn’t know who Gabriel was.
“The number of men I’ve killed exceeds the number of years I’ve been alive. Hunting and killing are what I do best. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
Other than loving you.
Nicholas did his best not to crumble under the harsh truth. “Only men?”
“Only the guilty,” Gabriel amended.
“Never an innocent?” he challenged, tone daring Gabriel to lie.
“There will always be casualties of war.”
“And this is who you want to be?” Pity softened Nicholas’s words.
“I want to be yours, Nicholas. Sit me in a corner for the rest of my life, ask me to tend to a garden, bake bread, build sandcastles… I don’t care, so long as I’m yours.”
Gabriel spoke from the heart, accidentally leaving the steel door housing his emotions unguarded.
Nicholas gasped, hand going for his throat.
Gabriel quickly manned the door again, sealing it shut.
Nicholas wheezed through a clear airway, looking around as if searching for the cause of his near suffocation.
“You can learn to control your impulses.” Gabriel steered the conversation back to Nicholas’s urges. “I can help you, if you’d let me.”
“My impulses…” he trailed off, as if needing a moment to collect himself. “You said my senses are heightened. So these feelings I’m having are out of my control? All of them? They… they aren’t real?”
That wasn’t completely true, but he sounded hopeful, and Gabriel didn’t have it in him to rip that away.
“In a sense.”
Nicholas sagged, closing his eyes with what looked like relief. It was a while before he spoke again.
“I don’t know where my phone is, but I’m sure I have missed calls and messages from Mateo and Father Murphy. Sandy too. I need to let them know I’m okay. They’ve probably called the police.”
“Hamza has taken care of that.”
Nicholas went as rigid as a board. “What does that mean?”
“He hasn’t harmed them, I promise you. They think you’re on a spiritual retreat, somewhere secluded with little service.”
“And they believed him? Mateo believed him?”
“He’s an officer of the law. What choice did they have?”
Gabriel knew the transition would leave Nicholas unavailable for some time, so he’d made the request of his brother long before then. A reminder of the trouble a missing persons report could cause them was all it took.