Death Takes Wing (34 page)

“Then I have something in mind,” he said with a smile, kissing her again, deeper than before, more intense.

Pulling away, she looked at him, green eyes burning with curiosity.  “And that would be?”

“How about a massage?”

“You’re not just saying that?” she asked doubtfully, unsure of how he would pull that off with her wings.

“Nope,” he said lightly, leading them towards the living room.  “I promise, it’ll make you feel worlds better.”

“I hope so,” she muttered, letting him lead her.

“So this is
just
a massage, right?”

A innocent grin was his only response.  He reached into the bag lying by the front door and
pulled out a small bottle.  He handed it to her for her to inspect.  As she looked it over, he unbuttoned the silk shirt he’d been wearing and slipped it off, laying it on the couch that decorated part of the room.

She opened it, and the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg assuaged her senses.  Apples.  She could smell the baking apples like they were right next to her.  She closed her eyes, enjoying the mingling scents as she breathed deeply.

He plucked the bottle from her hands, interrupting her impromptu meditation. 

“Now, lay down.  On your stomach,” he commanded as he helped her to the floor.

“Why my stomach?” she questioned, staring at the floor, definitely not wanting to get stuck down there.

“Because I’m going to massage your back.  That includes all the muscles that your wings use and a few others.  So obey,” he commanded with a chuckle

With a giggle, she lay down on the floor on her stomach and spread her chestnut wings carefully.

After giving her an admiring glance, he sat down next to her, by her shoulder and looked at the wide wings.  “You look like road kill.  Like a dead hawk,” he teased.

“Well, I
feel
like roadkill,” she laughed.  “So what happens now?”

He gazed at her, enjoying the sight of her profile.  “First, I take a little bit – and I mean a
little
bit – of oil.  Spread it in my hands, then start,” he gave a dirty laugh, “Stroking the feather.  And other muscles, of course.”

She gave him a sarcastic smile at his unintentional innuendo.  “Of course,” she echoed, moaning softly as his hands slowly worked the tension and kinks out of her misused, mistreated muscles.

He nodded, still chuckling to himself.  As he started, she went from carefully watching him, to dozing off in a happy stupor. 

“So, I have a question,” she said, half asleep, eyes heavy with sleep.

“You know, I’m starting to dread that statement,” he said, a lazy smile on his face.  His hands kept kneading her back, nearer the base of her wings now.

Waking up a bit, she continued, “well, it’s either I ask if I can ask a prying question, or I just say ‘so, Gabriel, tell me about this incredible personal part of your history’.  And the statement makes me sound so much more polite,” she said, enjoying the feel of his gentle hands stroking her back.

“Well, maybe just shake things up a bit by just outright asking the question?”  He chuckled, the low sound rolling around the room.

“I’m just not sure if…”  She trailed off as she looked at the ivy tattoo.

He glanced at it, then back up at her.  “Ah.”

“I’m just curious,” she said quietly, watching him oil his hands again.

“I know,” Gabriel said, longing obvious in his voice.  “What do you want to know about it?”

“You got it for a woman?” she asked, needing the confirmation.

He nodded.  “Her name was Ivy.”

“How?”

“The tattoo?”  When she nodded softly, he continued, “that’s how I met Matt, actually,” Gabriel said, the longing for Ivy turning to happiness at the recollection of his first meeting with Matt.  “Aleks and Michael got me plastered, about a hundred years ago or so.  We met Matt at one of the bars.  He got the story out of me about her, and convinced me to get a tattoo in remembrance.”

“Do you regret it?”

He shook his head empathetically.  “No.  Not one bit.”

“So she’ll always be with you,” Amalia said, loneliness in her that only she could feel.

“No,” Gabriel said, surprising Amalia.  “No, but her memory will be.”

“What was she like?”

Gabriel looked at her, surprise coloring his gray eyes.  A ghost of a smile drifted over his lips. 
“She was a lot like you.  She loved life, loved adventure.  Loved to read, even.”  He stopped there as she winced and closed her eyes as he hit a sore spot.

She groaned in pain, but pressed her back into his fingers.  “Right there,” she said as he massaged the sore spot. 

He swallowed, not wanting to share his most delicate secrets, but knowing that she needed to hear them.  “The hardest thing about being with her was knowing that she wasn’t always going to be there.  She’d refused to change, even though she was dying of tuberculosis.  The wasting sickness.  She just wanted to spend what little time we had left together.”

“So you took it day by day?” she asked, enjoying his hands working on the tender muscles.

“Yeah, and I lost her sooner than what either of us had ever dreamed,” he said, bittersweet melancholy written on his face.  “Her family hid her away at an aunt’s house.  I didn’t find her in time.  When I found her,” his voice broke as grief from the past overcame the present.  “When I found her, she had days left.”

“So you stayed with her until she was gone,” Amalia whispered.

“Yeah,” was the soft reply.

“And then came Sylvie,” she said, closing her eyes and breathing the scents that came off the oil deeply.

“No, then there was no one.  Actually, I didn’t get with Sylvie until the late fifties,” Gabriel corrected.

“Had enough of celibacy?”  She poked with a grin.

He returned the grin.  “Basically.  She was just there, all the time.”

“Trying to catch you,” Amalia said, a twinkle in her eyes.

Gabriel nodded then grimaced.  “Exactly.  And I let her.”

“Booty call?” she teased.

He laughed, the bright sound warm in Amalia’s ears.  “Yeah, basically.”  He shifted, spreading his wings open for balance as he worked on her lower back.  “You know, if you just flatten out a bit more-“

“If you compare me to road kill again, I’m not helping you with any more investigations,” she warned, a spark of humor in her green eyes.

“Oh, so you think you actually helped with this one?” he said casually, smiling when he saw the smirk on hers.

“Helped?” she shot back, “I’m the one who solved it!”

“Okay,” he conceded, “maybe you helped a bit.  But if you keep arguing, I’m not going to give you the present I got for you,” he warned.

“What present?  You never mentioned a present!” she exclaimed, eyes lighting up.  She hadn’t had a man, angelus or human, give her a present since she dumped Eric’s ass out on the curb, not counting her dad.  “When do I get it?”

“When I give it to you,” he said airily.  “First you have to answer a question.”  When she looked at him curiously, he continued, “Why that bastard, Erin?”

“Eric?  He was cute, charming and paid attention to me,” she said reluctantly, “he made me feel special.”

“Ah,” Gabriel replied, “so now you know what to look for in a bastard like that.  Well, what to avoid, at least.”

She harrumphed and closed her eyes. “You could say that.  Last I heard, he was mooching off of his aunt and uncle.  Better them than me.”

With that, Amalia let him work his magic.  By the time he finished, he was sure that she was going to start snoring.  He left her to rest for a few minutes, but she groggily came to when she heard him stand.  She climbed to her feet, carefully drawing her wings in as she tried to find her balance and succeeded.

He put away the oil, and washed his hands several times with dishwashing liquid in order to get
the oily residue off his hands.  When he walked back into the living room, Amalia was standing at the picture window, staring out at the driveway.

He walked up beside her and looked out the window.  They watched the leaves blow off the trees, and the snowflakes silently drift to the ground.  A cat stalked by the window, almost unseen in the dead grass before Gabriel went back to his black leather bag.

He rummaged around in it before pulling out a small box.  He opened the box and carefully removed a delicate silver and emerald necklace.  The emeralds adorned ivy leaves, the chain a subtle scrollwork.  He palmed the necklace before padding over behind Amalia.

He reached in front of her, letting the warm necklace lay on her skin as he fastened it.

She reached up and felt the jewels before looking down.  Seeing what it was, she turned around, astonishment in her eyes.  “This is
my
present?”

“You don’t want it?”  he asked lightly, but knowing that if she didn’t, it would cut him deeply.

She shook her head forcefully.  “No, I do, but it’s too-“

He silenced her with a light kiss.  “No, it’s not.  Actually,” he considered, “it’s probably not enough.  Maybe a matching bracelet next time?”

She smiled at him, the warmth touching her eyes, turning them into a darker emerald.  “I really don’t think that I-“

“It’s not up to you,” he said lightly, kissing her deeper.  “I buy the presents, so I get to give them, however expensive or inexpensive they might be.”

“And I just have to take them?” she asked, an eyebrow cocked in amusement.

“Well,” he considered, pulling her close, “You
should
take them, but I suppose if you’d rather have money…”

She laughed and shook her head, “Thank you, Gabriel.  It’s beautiful.”

“But not,” he said, brushing his lips against her neck, “as beautiful as you.”

She leaned into his kiss, only to be interrupted when her phone vibrated and buzzed against her thigh.

“Ignore it,” he whispered as he kissed her neck, dragging fangs against the soft skin.

She drew in a halting breath and pulled out the phone, gently pushing him away as she answered.

“Yeah?”

“Lia?  Have you heard anything from Sam?”  Morgan’s worried voice came across the speakers, sounding tiny and far away.

“I’ve tried to call you twice,” Amalia said. “I left two voicemails and a hoarde of texts.  We found her.  She was supposed to call you.”

“She didn’t,” Morgan said, relief flashing through her voice.  “I’ll try to call her – wait, I don’t have her number anymore, do I?”

“Yeah, let me get it for you.”  Amalia grabbed the number off the fridge and read it to Morgan.

“Thanks, I’ll call her ASAP,” Morgan promised.

“Sure,” Amalia said, losing her focus as Gabriel continued to nibble and kiss her neck and jaw.

“I’ll call you later.  We’ve got to meet up soon,” Morgan replied, “Okay?”

With a stuttered agreement, she let Morgan go before shoving Gabriel away.  “That was
not
funny.”

“Funny?  No, it wasn’t, but I still enjoyed it, didn’t I?  And so did you, I believe,” he said with a smile.  He kissed her softly, moving to the hollow on her neck.  She moaned lightly, pushing herself into him.  Feeling her pulse start to race, he licked the delicate spot where he could see the pulse, just below the skin.  His hands gripped her hips, pulled her tight against him, making her feel just how she was affecting him.

She grabbed his hair and pulled his face to hers; kissing him with a lust she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel again after almost not making it out of the bunker’s dungeon.  She felt his tongue against hers, tasted the coffee he’d drank earlier.  With a halting breath, she pulled back.

Her eyes were wide as she looked at him, already breathing hard.  “I don’t think we should be-“  She helplessly gestured towards the picture window.

“Bedroom?” he asked, a heated, lustful grin on his face.

She felt her stomach clench at the thought of him in her bed.  “That way,” she said, pointing towards her bedroom.  As he easily picked her up, she gave a surprised squeak.

He laid her gently on the bed, one knee on the bed, kneeling over her.  He lowered himself to her, and kissed her gently.  He slowly unbuttoned her shirt, watching her stare at him, an almost comical disbelief in her eyes. 

“Oh my.  No bra?” he asked, an eyebrow raised at the unexpected discovery.

“They’re all dirty, thanks to Mansion McCreepy.  Which is completely your fault, just so you know,” she said, feeling shy all of a sudden, but a smile still covered her face as she watched him.

He smiled as he lowered his head to her smooth stomach, gently kissing his way up to her exposed breasts.  She moaned as he gently nipped them before kissing his way to her stomach.  When he came to her jeans, he unbuttoned them, slowly unzipping them.

She gave a halting breath as he came back to her face, slowly, deeply and thoroughly kissing her.

He felt a vibration on his thigh, and he ignored it.  When it vibrated twice more, and began a third time, he pulled it out with a growl, hating the interruption.  He muttered, “Matt,” before answering.