Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno 1)

“Mmmmmm,” he hummed, smiling widely and showing all of his white, perfect teeth. “That’s my good little kitten.”

Julia blushed more deeply and ran her fingers across her lips, gathering up the last of the crumbs. He was right, the cake was delicious.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? See how nice it is to be cared for?” he whispered. “See how nice it is to be cared for…by me?”

She was beginning to wonder if she even had a chance at resisting seduction. All thoughts of what he said about her virtue miraculously flew out of her head.

Gabriel reached out and grasped her wrist, drawing her fingers to his mouth. “You left some chocolate behind,” he purred, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “May I?”

Julia inhaled sharply. She didn’t quite know what he was going to do, so she said nothing.

He grinned wickedly at her silent acquiescence before drawing her fingers into his mouth, one by one, sucking them slowly and swirling his tongue unhurriedly around the tips.

Julia bit her lip to suppress a moan as her skin exploded into flames.

Holy f**k, Gabriel.  When he finished, she closed her eyes and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Gabriel regarded her silently for what seemed like an age. “You’re exhausted,” he announced suddenly, blowing the candles out. “Time for bed.”

She opened her eyes as he bent over her. “What about our conversation?”

“We’ve done enough talking for today. Our conversation is going to be a long one, and we should approach it when both of our heads are clear.”

“Please, Gabriel. Don’t do this.” Her voice grew low and desperate.

“One night. Spend the night with me, and if you want to leave tomorrow, I won’t stop you.”

He picked her up carefully and pulled her tightly to his chest.

Julia said nothing, the last of her self-control ebbing out of her. She was spent. He’d worn her down and her resistance was decimated. Perhaps it was the champagne. Perhaps it was the drama of the day and their explosive encounter in his office. No matter the explanation, she couldn’t resist him anymore. Her heart was already beating a fevered pace, her insides melting at the heat that floated across her body. And further down, near her womb, came the not so subtle fluttering of desire.

He will consume me, body and soul.

In her dreams, it was always Gabriel to whom she gave her virginity.

But not like this. Not with such hopelessness in the pit of her stomach and whatever illegible emotion that flashed in his eyes.

He carried her down the hall to his bedroom and tenderly placed her in the center of his large, medieval bed. He lit a few candles and placed them around the room, on the night stands, the dresser, and the credenza underneath the painting of Dante and Beatrice. Then he turned out all the lights and disappeared into the bathroom.

Julia took this opportunity to examine his black-and-white photographs. But they were gone. The walls were bare, with the exception of the Holiday reproduction and six hooks and bits of wire that testified to the previous presence of the now absent pictures.

Why did he remove them? And when?

Julia was glad they were gone. She was afraid of how they might look in the flickering candlelight, their images glowing raw and Satanic in the semi-darkness, depicting her soon to be sealed fate. Naked, nameless, faceless, soulless. She only hoped the most aggressive one, the sixth photo, would not be what he had in mind for her first time.

Is that what he would want? Is that what he would demand? Tearing her clothes off, shoving her onto her stomach, pushing into her from behind…not even looking into her eyes as he took her virginity, no kisses, no love-making, nothing but aggression and domination. Julia only knew of his sexual predilections from the photographs, and the fact that he’d described what he did to women as f**king.

Her breathing began to speed as panic washed over her. She heard an old voice in her head taunting her about f**king like animals.

Gabriel returned wearing a hunter green t-shirt and a pair of Black Watch tartan pajama bottoms. He deposited a glass of water on the nightstand next to one of the candles, pulled the covers back, and lifted Julia so that he could place her under the sheets.

She flinched, but he pretended not to notice and reclined on his side by her legs, drawing them close to his chest. He undid her sneakers and pulled off her socks,tenderly caressing the soles of her feet and her toes, making her moan in spite of herself.

“Relax, Julianne. Don’t fight it. This is supposed to be nice.” He murmured from time to time, more to himself than to her, and at one point Julia thought she heard him say la sua immagine. But she couldn’t be sure.

His voice was low, like a whisper or a prayer.

She silently wondered if he was referring to her or to Beatrice, and which debauched gods he was addressing. Just as silently, she begged them to aid in her escape, instead.

Please don’t let him consume me.

“I seem to recall that you liked my Magdalen College boxer shorts.

They’re in the top drawer, if you’d care to borrow them. They don’t fit me anymore.”

Julia sniffled. “Your pictures…the ones you used to have on the wall.

Is that what you want?”

Gabriel’s hands stilled against her feet. “What are you talking about?”

Her eyes darted nervously to where the sixth photograph had hung and back to Gabriel. His face morphed rapidly from surprise into horror.

“Of course not! What do you take me for?” His voice was a tragic, offended whisper. “You’re here, you’re tired. I don’t want to run the risk of losing you again before we talk.” He smiled minutely. “I want to make you a breakfast tray with parsley and orange sections, not take your virginity.

And certainly not like that.” He seemed disgusted. “I’m not a barbarian.”

When she didn’t respond, he slipped her feet under the covers. He tucked her in as if she were a child and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face.

“Let’s try to forgive one another, shall we? We’ve both been hurt, and we’ve both wasted so many years. Let’s not waste any more time jumping to conclusions.”

He stood up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s quite possible you won’t want me tomorrow, anyway,” he muttered. Then he stood to attention and gave her a small smile. “Call me if you need anything.”

While Julia tossed and turned alone, she heard Gabriel playing the stereo, softly but fluidly. She didn’t recognize the music, but with the sounds of arpeggios imitating waterfalls she eventually fell into a light sleep.

Later that night, Gabriel was lying on his back in the guest bed, his arm crooked over his face. He was hovering in between wakefulness and dreaming when he felt a slight shift at his left. A warm body moved toward him, gently tugging at the covers.

The body crawled in beside him and molded itself to his side. He felt long, soft curls whisper across his now naked chest. He heard a small, contented sigh as an arm slid across the ridges of his abdominal muscles, eventually resting on top of them. Gabriel pressed a gentle kiss to the forehead that was placed above his tattoo and slid his arm around the shoulders and down to the lower back, hesitantly moving his fingers under the t-shirt until they came in contact with soft, smooth skin. And dimples just above the waistband of a pair of boxers that were far too large.

The warm body sighed again and pressed soft lips to the stubble at his neck. “I tried to stay away…” Julia’s voice was hesitant, “…but I couldn’t.”

“I tried not to lick chocolate off your fingers. But I couldn’t.” Gabriel’s voice was playful but there was a note of underlying sadness.

She hummed unconsciously at his remark. “Why did you remove the photographs in your bedroom?”

He squirmed in her arms. “Because I was ashamed.”

“You weren’t before.”

“That was before I decided to bring an angel to my bed.”

Lazy but curious hands caressed naked skin, exploring gently but chastely. Sighs commingled in the dark as two souls breathed as one. Two heartbeats synchronized when they recognized one another. And two troubled, conflicted minds finally came to rest.

Just as Gabriel was drifting off, he thought he heard her talking in her sleep; not words, just utterances that grew progressively more panicked, culminating in her breathless release of a name he’d not heard before.

“Simon.”

Chapter 17

When Julia awoke, she yawned and stretched, reaching her hand out and…nothing. Gabriel was gone and his side of the bed was cold.

A feeling of unease washed over her. The feeling was old; she’d felt it before.

It made her momentarily nauseated.

She swung her legs to the floor and saw a small note on the bedside table, propped up against a wine goblet, which was filled with water floating with lemon slices. The note was written with a fountain pen: Lovely Julianne,

I’ve gone to pick up something special for breakfast.

Please use the washroom in the master bedroom; it’s better.

I’ve laid out some personal items for you there.

You can also choose whatever you need from my dresser and my closet.

Please stay.