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  Until now, their love affair—if you could even call it that—has been so chaste. They’d explored each other, but tentatively, and Gabriel had always held back. He so seldom demands anything of her at all, and she doesn’t know whether to find that endearing or confusing. She knows of his reputation, of course, and she isn’t sure if their abstinence should be interpreted as a symptom of his deeper devotion to her, or a complete lack of interest.

  She wants to find out.

  Instead of withdrawing her hand, she presses more firmly. In response, Gabriel adjusts his position, making himself more comfortable and giving her better access.

  She continues to massage him.

  He pulls her into another kiss and lets himself enjoy her touch. His earlier craving returns to him, but tenfold, and his eagerness soon gets the better of him. He unzips his pants, and Veva snatches up this opportunity in a heartbeat.

  Slipping her hand inside, she touches him skin-to-skin. This isn’t the first time, but it’s been a long time, and she’s had enough of passively waiting for him to take the reins—she wants to make him want her.

  And he does.

  Right or wrong, he wants her.

  “Kiss me,” he demands.

  She’s about to put her lips to his, but he stops her.

  “Not there.”

  “Gabe …”

  Without taking his eyes off her, he pulls himself completely out of his clothing. His fully erect cock is begging to be serviced by her lips, and the thought of it excites her.

  “I need you,” he whispers, desperate for sexual gratification.

  And she doesn’t disappoint. Without further hesitation, she dips her head into his lap and takes him in her mouth.

  Gabriel gasps.

  If he’s honest, he wasn’t expecting it to feel this good. She’s completely inexperienced, but it doesn’t show. Her lips and tongue move confidently over his flesh, bringing him to the height of pleasure in a matter of a few short minutes.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Devil

  Rat-a-tat-tat.

  Gabriel knocks on the door to Lora and J.C.’s apartment and waits. It’s been almost a week, and he hasn’t heard so much as a peep from his best friend. No texts, no phone calls, no e-mails.

  Nothing.

  The silence is out of character, and it’s beginning to grate on Gabriel’s nerves. He tried calling last night, and again this morning—no answer. He left voicemail, but J.C. never responded. His texts went unread and all other attempts at social contact seemed to fall upon deaf ears, as if he were yelling into an empty abyss.

  He knocks again.

  Still nothing.

  Infuriated, he digs his cell phone out of his pocket. He dials the numbers, but changes his mind and cancels the call before it has a chance to ring.

  “Damnit.”

  Fearful of appearing overanxious, he can’t bring himself to attempt the third call. In fact, he’s about to give up and walk away when the apartment door suddenly opens.

  Neither one of them speaks.

  J.C. looks haggard and tired. Drained of his usual color, he looks ghostlike and sickly, and he hasn’t shaved. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks look gaunt.

  He doesn’t invite Gabriel in.

  Instead, “I’m not in the mood for visitors.”

  His tone is even colder than it was at the hospital.

  “Fair enough.” Gabriel tries to appear laidback. “You didn’t answer my calls, so I just stopped by to see if there was anything you needed.”

  He doesn’t dare let on how badly he wants to see Ella. He can’t risk letting his desperation show, so he keeps his hands in his pockets and his voice restrained.

  “Have you seen anyone? Have you left the apartment at all? The hospital said they were going to send a nurse to—”

  “No,” J.C. snaps at him. “We don’t need anyone. We’re fine.”

  Aggravated by such a swift rejection of his concern, and by the fact that an invitation into his friend’s home isn’t likely to be forthcoming, Gabriel responds with curtness.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  J.C.’s jaw tenses. “I’m coping.”

  He doesn’t seem as though he’s going to budge.

  “There’s no shame in asking for help,” Gabriel tries a different approach. “What you’re going through is—”

  “I said we’ll manage,” J.C. cuts him off.

  Silence.

  He’s not usually this frosty, and Gabriel starts to feel uneasy. Is it a symptom of his grief? Or something more than that? He decides to drop the subterfuge.

  “Can I see her?”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s sleeping.”

  “You don’t have to wake her.”

  “I said no.”

  Gabriel’s chest heaves. “Is there something you wanna say to me?” His frustration begins to show. “Why the attitude? What’s really going on? Did I do something to piss you off?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” He upturns both palms. “One minute we’re playing cards together in the Fringe District, the next minute you’re freezing me out. If I’ve done something wrong, I’d really like to know about it.”

  “My wife just died.”

  “I know—I was there.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  There it is: the root of all this sudden animosity.

  Jealousy.

  Resentment.

  Bitterness.

  And Gabriel can empathize.

  He knows exactly how that feels. It’s the way he’s felt since Lora’s death, knowing that his daughter is in the care of another man and that there’s not a damn thing he can do about it without tearing apart his best friend’s life, breaking Veva’s heart, tarnishing Lora’s memory, and causing an uproar. Still, it wasn’t his responsibility to inform J.C. of Lora’s condition. On that charge at least, he’s off the hook.

  “You’re blaming me for the hospital’s inaction?”

  “You didn’t call me.”

  “They were supposed to call you. You should’ve been pulled off the line immediately.”

  “No message was ever sent to me.”

  “How is that my fault?”

  More silence.

  “Why you?” J.C. says finally. “You weren’t even close to being her family.”

  “I had no control over—”

  “Do you know when I found out what happened? The hospital called me to ask about the funeral arrangements because I was her registered next of kin. They were calling me to tell me that she was dead, and I didn’t even know she’d gone into labor.”

  Gabriel feels a splash of guilt: if he’s completely honest, it hadn’t even occurred to him to make sure that J.C. was properly notified.

  “You need to take this up with the hospital. You need to find out why you weren’t notified.”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “She asked for you.” J.C. glares at him. “When she was giving birth to our child, they asked her who she wanted present and she told them to call for you. Now you tell me: why the hell would she do that?”

  Gabriel doesn’t have an answer for him. At least, not one that would make him feel any better. He remains silent, but J.C.’s already inferred enough to guess at what the truth might be.

  “Were you sleeping with my wife?”

  Gabriel breaks eye contact, answering the question indirectly. “I want to be here for you and the baby. That’s all.”

  J.C. doesn’t need him to spell it out.

  His jaw tenses again. “Yeah, well, I need time. You have to give me that. I can’t even stand to look at you right now.”

  As he closes the door, he mumbles something that sounds like ‘I’m sorry’.

  He doesn’t mean it.

  He’s not sorry, he’s angry—and rightfully so.

  As Gabriel turns to leave, he spots Alexander standin
g in the doorway of his apartment across the hall. He must’ve watched their entire exchange.

  “Can I help you, boy?”

  Scared by Gabriel’s gruff, booming voice, Alexander hugs the doorframe.

  “Where’s Mrs. C.?”

  Great.

  This is the last thing Gabriel’s in the mood for.

  Reluctantly, he kneels down in front of Alexander and holds him by the shoulders, not quite sure how to handle such a delicate situation with such a young child. He’s not used to dealing with children at all, never mind bearing the burden of explaining death to a developing brain that’s still trying to wrap itself around the non-existence of Santa Claus. With every possible phrasing, sugarcoated or not, he finds potential difficulties.

  She’s asleep.

  When will she wake up?

  She’s deceased.

  Huh?

  She’s passed away.

  Where?

  She’s expired.

  Like milk?

  She’s gone.

  For how long?

  He settles on: “She’s dead, son.”

  It’s simple, it’s direct, there’s no bullshit, and—above all—it’s the truth.

  Alexander’s lower lip trembles slightly. In a city where so much emphasis is placed on the slaughter of animals, it’s no wonder he already knows what the word ‘dead’ means.

  Gabriel should’ve expected that.

  “There was a complication while she was having the baby,” he explains. “There was nothing anyone could’ve done.”

  Tears pool in Alexander’s eyes. “Is Ella okay?”

  “Yes.” Gabriel nods. “How did you … ?”

  “I promised I’d help Mrs. C. take care of her,” he smiles proudly, despite his sadness.

  Gabriel recollects a vital piece of information from the hospital’s log. “You saw her that day, didn’t you? The hospital told me you were the one who made the call for the ambulance.”

  “Yessir.” Alexander nods, shaking some of the tears loose.

  “You saved her life. Did you know that? You saved Ella’s life by fetching help for her mother.” He squeezes the boy’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “Is Mrs. C. really not never coming back?”

  “No, son.” Gabriel staves off a tremor in his voice. “She’s not.”

  “Then who will take care of Ella?”

  Gabriel feels a sudden pang of despair, and bites it back before he answers.

  “Her father will.”

  “It’s not fair.” Alexander sniffs.

  “No, it’s not fucking fair.” Some of Gabriel’s anger seeps out.

  Just then, he notices that Alexander is wearing a Junior Hunter Division Academy hooded sweatshirt over a civilian t-shirt, and he pokes at the Omega emblem embroidered on the chest.

  “How do you feel about this?”

  “How am I supposed to feel about it, sir?”

  “Serving in the Hunter Division is an honor and a privilege.”

  “I know, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best, sir.”

  “Lora wanted this for you.”

  Alexander nods. “She helps me a lot, sir.”

  Wrong tense, Gabriel notes.

  Perhaps it hasn’t completely sunk in.

  “She cared for you very deeply.” He seems to lose himself in his own thoughts for a moment. “She wanted the best for you.”

  Alexander wipes his cheeks with his sleeve. “She was very kind to me.”

  Right tense.

  From inside the apartment: “Alexander, who’re you talking to?”

  A woman appears behind the boy, instantly snapping Gabriel out of a daydream. Her long, mousey hair is pinned up on her head, and her face is smattered with flour: she’s been baking. She wipes her hands off on her apron, surprised to see Gabriel standing there.

  “Oh, it’s you. I didn’t think you’d have any reason to come back here now.”

  Gabriel pats the boy’s shoulders affectionately, then gets to his feet and straightens his uniform. “I just came by to offer my support to the grieving husband.”

  “Uh-huh,” the woman mumbles, quickly sending Alexander to go wash his hands before lunch. “And how well did that go down?”

  “He wasn’t interested.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Has he said something to you?”

  The woman regards him closely, deciding what she wants to divulge. “Only that he was concerned about Lora’s fidelity.”

  “Because of what happened at the hospital?”

  “In her moment of need, his wife asked for the company of another man. How would that make you feel?”

  “Does he doubt the paternity of the child?”

  “He doesn’t want to.”

  “Did you say anything to him?”

  “Look”—the woman steps out into the hallway and almost completely closes the door behind her, ensuring their privacy—“Lora was my best friend. I wouldn’t betray her in life, and nor will I in death, but that man”—she points in the direction of J.C.’s apartment—“doesn’t deserve to suffer.”

  “We’re all suffering.”

  “All pain is not equal. Are you going to tell him the truth?”

  “How would that make things any better?”

  “That child is false comfort to him. Sooner or later, you’re going to take her away from him. We both know it.”

  “What makes you so sure of that? I don’t know the first thing about being a father—not without Lora. Perhaps the child’s better off where she is.”

  “Oh, come on, Gabriel. Don’t kid yourself. You’ve never let anything stand in your way. When you want something, you just take it.” She makes a grabbing motion with her hand. “Just like you did when you set your sights on Lora.”

  “None of this was intentional.”

  “No? How about the banishment of Alexander’s mother?” she hushes her voice.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What happened to Mrs. King, Gabriel? How exactly is it that she came to fall from your grace so fast? Did she find out about you and Lora? Did she threaten to tell?”

  “You’d do well to silence your tongue before you really start speaking out of turn.”

  “Is your guilt the reason why the boy ended up with me? So that Lora could keep an eye on him for you?”

  “He had no next of kin and you were the most qualified foster placement at the time he was orphaned.”

  “And I was unavailable. Another young boy was withdrawn from me that same week. Am I to believe that was a coincidence as well?”

  “What you believe makes no difference to me.”

  “Lora fussed over him like he was her own.”

  “She had a good heart.”

  “She was cleaning up after you,” the woman snarls. “Ensuring his acceptance into the Academy will give him some chance at a normal life at least. A chance to rise above the misfortune unfairly burdened upon him by you.” She points a finger at him.

  “Are you accusing me of something?”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” She locks eyes with him. “I’ve seen what happens to people when they cross swords with you.”

  A hollow silence descends.

  Then, “Have the boy placed elsewhere,” she says, retreating back inside her apartment. “I want to wash my hands of you.”

  *************************

  Being in Veva’s company makes Gabriel feel good.

  As her foot brushes softly against his leg beneath the table, he starts to wonder if tonight might be the right time to finally break her in. After all, he has no reason to hold back—not anymore.

  She begins by rubbing his calf up and down, then she slowly makes her way up to his thigh and seeks out his crotch. By the time she finds him there, he’s already made up his mind: he’s going to take her home.

  Under normal circumstances, a night like this would’ve ended without mutual release. He would’ve played the part of a considerate, patient boyfriend. He w
ould’ve pleased her with his hands or tongue, if she’d been in the mood for it, then he’d have gone home and jerked off vigorously before bed.

  Sometimes, if he was feeling especially weak, he’d entice her to wank him in the car outside her home before she went inside. Other times, she’d peel off some of her clothes and let him look at her while he did the work. On rarer occasions, he’d dropped her off and run straight to Lora.

  And Lora was no fool. She’d always known when he’d been spending time with Veva. He’d show up at her apartment with a massive erection and very little self-control, and would thrust himself upon her like a ferocious beast. For the most part, she’d considered Veva a stimulant to their affair.

  In any case, those days are over.

  Tonight, he’s going to take Veva to bed.

  After a romantic restaurant dinner, he drives them back to his apartment. All the while, she flirts and teases and strokes him.

  They’re both liquored up: she wants to be, and he needs to be. She wants to be free and unrestrained, and he needs to forget about Lora.

  By the time they tumble into the bedroom, clothes being tossed left and right, their kisses have become frantic and desperate. Stripping her to nothing but underwear, he pushes her down onto the bed and admires her.

  She’s flawless.

  White stockings and panties are symbolic of her virtue, and he aches with the desire to claim her. Abandoning all his clothing on the floor, he leans over her on the bed and slowly peels off her undies.

  He’s never looked upon her hungry flesh before—not like this. Not completely bare, gleaming and in full view. Until now, he’d only ever seen glimpses of her core, flashed to him to tease him while he played with himself, or peeking out from beneath her skirt on a secluded park bench in the middle of the night when he’d nestled his face there.

  He lines himself up and prepares to thrust … then stops.

  Think.

  Concentrate.

  Don’t make the same mistake twice.

  He reaches for the bedside table and retrieves a condom. He’s so eager to get inside her—and it’s been so long since he’s used one—he fumbles to get it on. When he does, he’s so consumed with his own lust for pleasure, he’s completely forgotten about her delicacy.

  Her inexperience.

  Her virginity.

  Fortunately, her body is ready to accept him and there’s no pain as he pushes himself all the way inside her. In fact, she’s overcome with sheer delight as she finally gets to feel him take her.