Gabriel's Inferno 01 - Gabriel's Inferno (14 page)

Julia began to walk toward the restroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gabriel followed her.

“To the ladies’ room. What’s it to you?”

He shot out his hand and grasped her wrist, grazing the pad of his thumb across the veins that were pulsating underneath her pale skin. She gasped.

He moved her until they were hidden in a long, dark corridor, pushing her against a wall. He continued to hold her wrist, drinking in the feel of her quickening pulse beneath his fingers and placing his other hand on the wall next to her shoulder. She was trapped.

Gabriel took a moment to inhale her vanilla scent and licked his lips, but his eyes were far from happy. “Why did you give him your number? He lives with a woman, you know. Now he’s buying you drinks and calling you
Julia?”

“That’s my name, Professor! You’re the only one who doesn’t use it. And at this point, even if you wanted to use it, I wouldn’t let you. I think you should have to call me
Miss Mitchell
forever. And I didn’t give him my number.”

“You entered your number into his phone. Do you really put yourself out there with multiple men at the same time?”

Julia shook her head, too angry to respond, and tried to duck under his elbow, but he caught her around the waist.

“Dance with me.”

She snickered. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Don’t be so difficult.”

“I’m just getting started being difficult with you, Professor.”

“Watch it.”
He sounded ominous.

Julia waited a moment for the chill his tone gave her to travel up and down her spine. “Why don’t you just stick a knife into my heart and get it over with?” she whispered, looking him straight in the eye. “Haven’t you hurt me enough?”

Gabriel released her immediately and reeled back.
“Julianne.”
Her name rolled off his tongue as something between a reproach and a question. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked very upset. Not angry, but upset. Wounded, perhaps.

“Am I so evil?” His voice was low, just above a whisper.

Julia shook her head no, and her shoulders sagged.

“I have no wish to hurt you. Far from it.” He looked down at her intentionally submissive posture, and his eyes quickly sought her mouth. He watched her lower lip push out slightly and tremble. Her eyes darted around anxiously.

She’s frightened, you asshole. Ease up!

“You mentioned before that I hadn’t asked you to dance. Well, now I’m asking.” He softened his voice considerably. “Julianne, will you do me the honor of dancing with me? Please?”

He flashed a winning smile and tilted his head a little…a signature seductive move. But it didn’t have the effect he desired, for Julia would not lift her head. He reached out to smooth his fingers gently across her wrist, as if he was trying to apologize to her skin. (Not that her skin would have accepted his apology.)

Julia clutched at her neck instinctively, suddenly feeling as if she was experiencing physical whiplash from his emotional caprice. Gabriel gazed at the hand that fluttered against her milk-white throat, and once again he saw her blue veins quiver with every heartbeat.

Like a hummingbird
, he thought.
So tiny. So fragile. Be careful…

She swallowed noisily and eagerly searched out an exit.

“Please,” he repeated, his eyes shining in the darkness.

“I can’t dance.”

“You were just dancing.”

“Not slow dancing. I’ll step on your toes and injure you with these heels. Or I’ll trip and end up on the floor, and you’ll be humiliated. You’re already angry with me…” Her lower lip began to tremble more noticeably.

He took a step closer, and she pressed herself more tightly against the wall, almost as if she was trying to disappear through it in order to escape him. He took her hand and regally lifted it to his lips. Then with a smile firmly on his face, he inched forward, leaning down and bringing his mouth to her ear. Julia’s skin vibrated with his nearness and the feel of his breath across her skin.

“Julianne, how could I stay angry with someone so sweet? I promise I won’t become cross or humiliated. You’ll be able to dance with me.” His whisper was bracing and soft, sexual and seductive, Scotch and peppermint.
“Come.”

He took her hand in his, and the same familiar spark coursed across her skin. As he waited for her to respond, he felt her still beneath his touch, and he wondered at the strange reaction she was having to him. It seemed as if his charm was actually working, even though she’d been shaking a moment before.

“Please, Professor,” she breathed, fixating on his shirt front, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“I thought we were supposed to be Gabriel and Julianne tonight.”

“You don’t really want to dance with me. It’s just the Scotch talking.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he had to bite back a harsh retort. She was pushing his buttons, almost as if she knew exactly which buttons to push and when.

“One slow dance. That’s all I ask.”

“Why would you want to dance with a virgin?” she whispered, suddenly fascinated by the bows on her shoes.

His spine stiffened. “Not just any virgin, but
you
, Julianne. I thought you might want to dance with someone who wasn’t about to molest you on the dance floor and take liberties with you in front of a club full of sexually-aggressive men.”

She appeared skeptical but said nothing.

“I’m trying to keep the wolves at bay,” he said, his voice low.

A lion in charge of wolves
, she thought.
How convenient.

He hadn’t made a joke; he was looking at her seriously, his intense blue eyes boring into hers.

“One dance with me and they’ll know enough to leave you alone. That should be an improvement over the current state of affairs.” He smiled faintly. “If I’m very lucky, no one will bother you for the rest of the evening, and I won’t have to guard my charge so closely.”

She bristled at his characterization but relented, realizing that at this stage of his life he was used to getting his way—always.

It wasn’t always that way, though, was it Gabriel?

“What shall we dance to?” He persuaded her to reenter the lounge, placing a hand on her lower back. “I’ll request whatever you want. How about Nine Inch Nails? Maybe a little
Closer?”

He grinned in order to indicate that he was kidding. But Julia wasn’t looking at his face, she was watching the floor so she didn’t trip and embarrass herself and The Professor. Nevertheless, as soon as the name of
that song
left his lips, she froze.

He nearly ran into the back of her she stopped so suddenly. Through the tips of his fingers he felt the marked coolness of her body and immediately and fiercely regretted ever suggesting that song. He moved to regard her face, and what he saw troubled him deeply.

“Julianne, look at me.”

Her breathing paused.

“Please,” he added.

Obediently, she raised her wide brown eyes to his and looked up at him through her long eyelashes. He saw fear and radical unease on her face, and something inside of him twisted.

“It was a joke. And in poor taste. Forgive me. I would never request that song for a dance with you. It would be the worst form of blasphemy, to expose someone like you to words like that.”

Julia’s eyelashes fluttered in her confusion.

“I know I’ve been a bit of a—
stronzo
tonight. But I’ll choose something nice. I promise.”

Unwilling to release her for fear she might bolt, Gabriel brought her to the DJ’s booth and slipped him a bill, whispering his request. The DJ nodded and smiled, saluting Julia before he searched for the requested song.

Gabriel walked her to the dance floor and pulled her in close—but not too close. He noticed that her hands, which were so much smaller than his, had begun to sweat. It didn’t occur to him that perhaps she was having this reaction because of the song he mentioned. No, his only thought was that she was completely averse to him, and he’d made matters worse by being insulting and overbearing with her when all he really wanted to do was save her from the wolves that had descended to sniff at her skirts.

Why the hell do I care? She isn’t a child. She isn’t even a friend.

He felt her shiver, and again he regretted being harsh with her. She was a delicate little thing and clearly quite sensitive. He shouldn’t have mentioned the fact that he’d observed that she was a virgin. That was a boorish thing to do. Grace would have been appalled at his lack of gentility, and rightly so.

Perhaps he could make it up to the beautiful Julianne by dancing with her nicely and showing that he could act like a gentleman, after all. Gabriel placed his hand at the small of her back and flexed it. Immediately, he felt her breathing quicken.

“Relax,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the skin of her cheek accidentally.

He brought their bodies close together, making sure that she could feel his chest against hers. Strong and hard met gentle and soft, as they brushed against one another through their clothing. Gabriel was now on his best behavior.

Julia didn’t recognize the song he’d requested. The vocalist was singing in Spanish, and the words were unfamiliar, although she recognized the phrase
besame mucho
and knew that it translated as
kiss me a lot
. The arrangement itself was slow Latin jazz, and they swayed to it gently, Gabriel moving her across the dance floor like an expert. The fact that he’d chosen such an overtly romantic song made her blush.

I kissed you a lot, Gabriel, for one glorious evening. But you don’t remember. I wonder if you’d remember me if I kissed you…

She felt his pinky graze the top of her barely there panties through her dress, and she wondered if he knew what lay beneath his finger. The thought that perhaps he did made her skin explode in heat. She hid her eyes by keeping them determinedly fixed on the buttons of his shirt.

“It would be better if you looked me in the eye. It will be easier for you to follow my lead.”

She found him smiling down at her, a wide and genuine smile that she hadn’t seen in years. Her heart fluttered, and she beamed back at him, dropping her guard (but not her special panties) for only an instant.

Gabriel’s smile slipped. “Your face is familiar. Are you sure Rachel never introduced us during one of my visits home?”

Julia’s eyes brightened with what looked like hope. “She didn’t introduce us, no, but we…”

“I could have sworn I’d met you before.” He wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

“Gabriel?” she prompted, trying to reveal the truth with her eyes.

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “No, I guess we haven’t. But you remind me of Beatrice, from Holiday’s painting. Isn’t it funny that you own it?”

If Gabriel had known what to look for, or if he’d been better at reading her, he would have seen that she appeared slightly ill and any hope on her face disappeared.

She bit her lip absently. “A—friend told me about that painting. That’s why I bought it.”

“Your friend has good taste.”

Something about her answer displeased him, but he dismissed his displeasure as derivative of the fact that she was so tense in his arms. He sighed and brought their foreheads together, his warm breath on her face. He smelled of Laphroaig and something distinctively Gabrielian and potentially dangerous.

“Julianne, I promise I won’t bite. You don’t have to be anxious.”

She stiffened, even though she knew he was trying to put her at ease. But he’d upset her countless times, and she was fatigued by it. She was not some marionette on a string that he could toy with for his own mercurial amusement, just because some blond-haired banker sent her a truffle. It seemed that this dance was simply an opportunity for him to declare his superiority.

“I don’t think this is very professional,” she began, her eyes suddenly afire.

His smile slid off his face, and his eyes flashed to hers. “No, it isn’t, Miss Mitchell. I’m not being professional with you, at all. I suppose it’s no excuse for me to claim that I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl in the club?”

Her lovely red mouth opened slightly, then he watched her press her lips together.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What, that you’re easily the most beautiful woman here? With all due respect to my sister? Or that I, cold-hearted bastard that I am, would want to dance with you to something sweet?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” she snapped.

“I’m not,
Julianne.”

He flexed his arm across her lower spine, and she gasped because it did something to her on the inside. He knew it, of course, and had expected a reaction. What he did not know was that he’d touched her there before, that he’d been the first man to ever touch her there. And her skin had never quite recovered from his absence.