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I howled and put my dizzying dream orgasms to shame. I writhed and convulsed around him, pulling him tight against me with all the strength I had. I may, at some point, have said some extremely dirty things in Portuguese.
Gabriel was smiling, a big, goofy grin wreathing his face as he came, as if my muttering anatomically detailed instructions in foreign tongues was some sort of gift. And for some reason, that made me laugh, which resulted in some interesting aftershocks.
Gabriel was triumphant. “And to think you were this sweet, inexperienced librarian when I met you.” He panted, pushing my hair out of my face. “Now look at you, you’re a goddess. You can bring me to my knees with a word.”
I blinked owlishly at him. Something about that sounded familiar and wrong. Something about Gabriel. The letters, in the letters, she’d said that Gabriel had enjoyed educating her from innocent to—
Just as I was able to cobble a coherent thought together, Gabriel glanced down at the contents of my purse and dropped me on my barely covered butt. I would say it was undeserved, but I had just Tased him.
“What is that?” he demanded, pointing to the linen envelopes as I scrambled to my feet.
“You dropped me,” I pointed out.
“What the hell is that?”
“You dropped me!” I repeated. “On my ass, just then. You may not have noticed, which I’m starting to think may be part of our problem as a couple.”
Gabriel dropped to his knees to look at the envelopes. “Jane, answer me. What are these?”
“Letters,” I told him, plucking the papers off the concrete before he could grab them.
“She’s been writing to you?”
And there it was, confirmation. My concerned friend wasn’t just some crazy person with an affection for linen paper. She wasn’t making up her connection to Gabriel. Gabriel knew who she was, and obviously, he didn’t want me getting information from her.
I had two options here: calmly and rationally discuss my feelings of confusion and abandonment and encourage Gabriel to enter couples counseling with me … or pitch a tantrum, demand information, and make a giant ass of myself.
Any guesses about the route I chose?
“Excuse me,” I seethed. “But you don’t get to breeze back into my life, after weeks without a word, pin me to a wall with your penis, and then demand answers.”
“I’m not demanding answers. I just—”
“Who is she, Gabriel? Tell me what’s going on. This would be so much easier if you would just let me in.”
“I can’t. I can’t tell you. What has she— Do you believe what she’s saying?”
“I don’t know what to believe, Gabriel. I mean, she’s saying some things that sound pretty familiar. Her scent is what drew you to her. It’s what kept you close to her. That she was special. That you loved her. That you enjoyed her being so trainable and unpredictable, particularly in the sack. Do you know where I might have heard any of this before?”
“It’s not what you think,” he promised, edging away from me.
“What do you mean, it’s not what I think? I don’t know what to think. Because you don’t tell me anything! Look at me. This is the result of your grand freaking plan to protect me!” I yelled. Gabriel started to turn away. I grabbed his arm and screamed, “Look at me!”
Gabriel’s face in the moonlight was a mask of misery, the shadows against his bone-white skin sharp and stark. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to see that he wanted to disappear.
“This is your handiwork, Gabriel. This neurotic mess of a vampire standing here. You made me what I am. I hope you’re proud.”
Looking as if he’d been kicked in the gut, Gabriel backed away from me into the shadows. Hot, bloody tears spilled down my cheeks as I shouted, “Don’t come back! Don’t watch my house. Don’t come by. Don’t call me. Just stay away!”
Gabriel’s silver-gray eyes reflected back at me in the dark. I could hear his footsteps on the pavement as he walked briskly away from me without another word.
Somehow, it seemed so much worse than the first time. I sank to my knees, crying until my eyes ran dry. I cried until I was embarrassed to be crouched in an alleyway, shedding tears for someone who obviously didn’t care enough to shed them for me. I pulled myself together, grabbing my purse and straightening my rumpled clothes.
“Damn it.” I sniffled, looking around. “Where’s my underwear?”
I didn’t want to be that friend who shows up at your door with raccoon eyes and hysterics, complaining about her love life.
That’s why I didn’t wear mascara.
