“Yes, it’s kind of like an aura. I understand why you need time to think. It’s okay. I don’t want you to do anything impulsively or that you aren’t comfortable with. Take all the time you need to think about us.” He wanted to kiss her, but didn’t dare. “I know I’m asking a lot of you.”

She propped herself up on her elbow and stared down at him, frowning. “Look at me.”

“I am.”

“Tell me what you are.”

Gabriel brushed his fingers over the tips of her hair and swallowed. “I’m a demon.” It hurt to say that, but he had to own the truth.

She nodded. “Yes, I do need time to think. Go ahead and buy your ticket and head back tomorrow and I’ll call you in a few days.”

Only she wouldn’t. He knew it as surely as he knew he was fallen.

Her decision was already made whether she even knew it or not, and her future didn’t include him.

It was something he had to accept.

And he owed her a huge debt for showing him how to love again, for facing who he was and what he needed to do.

So he cupped her cheek with his hand and let her eyes lock with his, let her inside the remnants of his palace, let her see the color and shine and strength of his love.

Her eyes went wide and lost focus as she embraced his gift, and fell into a sleep that would be filled with dreams of everything that made her happy, where there was no murder, no suffering or pain or hatred.

Tomorrow she would wake up and start her life over again, and he would be gone.

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-two

Walking hadn’t helped. Gabriel had paced down Dumaine to Chartres, across the square, down by the river, walking on and on trying to shake off his feelings, trying to exhaust his body and quiet his thoughts, but it hadn’t worked. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sara, couldn’t stop missing her, wanting her.

The past, his mistakes, were struggling to hold him, and he was fighting to forgive himself, to look ahead to a future that was no longer isolating and self-deprecating. Tired of the anxiety, of the restless wandering, Gabriel stepped into a bar on Conti Street and made his way to the back, where it was dark and quiet.

He ordered a whiskey without hesitation. He smelled it, breathing the sting and tang deeply into his nostrils. He stared at it in his hand, then he set it back on the bar. He watched the ice gradually melt into the amber liquid and he studied the signs on the dingy walls that advertised liquor and beer. He glanced at a waitress moving around the room collecting empties.