Corrupted Angel

Chapter 32 Episode 32

“I don’t know how to do this either,” I reply, leaning forward. I snake hand over the desk, palmupturned. “But to be honest, I think we’ve already been doing this, and I think that it’s working so far.I can see us continuing.”

The words spill out of me without any thought to my internal conflict. In this moment, I don’t feel any.I just see Harry’s dad, who has become a source of comfort for me and our son, and I know that I needhim in my life.

Gabriel rests his palm against my own and I close my fingers around his hand. His eyes search mine,and for the briefest second I catch a glimpse of vulnerability in his amber depths.

“Do you really think that’s possible?” he asks. “Given what you now know about me?”

“Yes.”

My lack of hesitation surprises Gabriel, but it surprises me too. I’ve spent hours agonizing over themorality of my current situation, trying to figure out if it’s okay for me to feel the way I feel. But givena split second to decide, the answer is that yes—I want our family to continue.

Gabriel’s mouth curves and he squeezes my hand. “Thank you.”

“An apology and a word of gratitude all in the same conversation?” I joke. “I must be dreaming.”

His mouth flattens. “That’s what I would consider milking it.”

I chuckle and blow him a kiss, then pull my hand back and rise to my feet. “I should get back towork.”

“How is that going?” Gabriel asks.

I pause. I’m not used to him making small talk, and I’m not sure whether he actually wants to know orif he’s just being polite to transition out of our brief emotional interlude.

“Fine,” I respond, deciding it’s probably a case of the latter.

“I would love to read some of your work.”

“If you go to the Union website and type my name into the search bar, it’ll pop up with things I’vewritten,” I tell him. “Be warned though, it’s pretty boring stuff for the most part.”

He nods, smiling. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

I leave his office, entirely sure that Gabriel has no interest in reading my work and this will be thelast time we speak of it.

The next time I see Gabriel is a couple of hours later. I turn around and find him leaning against theframe of the bathroom door while I am bathing Harry. I don’t know how long he has been watching us.

“You’re a good writer,” Gabriel says.

I blink, surprised. He actually read my work.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“You could write better stories if given the opportunity.”

His comment stings for a couple of reasons. One, because I have been given the chance, and two,because I’m still not sure that I’m going to let that chance slip away, even though the resulting guiltgnaws at my insides.

“I know,” I say.

Gabriel nods and leaves without another word. He doesn’t even acknowledge the bubble hat andbeard I have given his son.

It’s a gorgeous, sunny day. Gabriel’s hand is warm on my back as I push Harry’s stroller throughthe park.

Harry spots ducks in the distance and points at them. “Ducks!”

“You want to see the ducks, Harry?”

Of course he does. He always wants to see the ducks.

I turn the stroller toward the duck pond. Sunlight filters through the trees, dappling the windingpath in front of us. I hear the quacking of the ducks in the distance, and the twittering of the birdshopping through the branches above.

“Nearly there,” I tell Harry.

But the path seems to extend before us. The further we walk, the longer it grows. A cloud passesover the sun, and long shadows stretch across the path. The chittering in the leaves above diesdown. An eerie silence slips over us like a shroud.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Nobody answers. I look up at Gabriel, but my father stares down at me instead.

“Dad?”

At first, I feel relief—he’s here; he’s with me—but the expression on his face is far from loving. Hismouth is twisted cruelly, eyes that always laughed before now narrowed in disgust.

“What are you doing, Alexis?” he asks in a croaky voice.

I turn around, looking for Gabriel. Where did he go? My heart races in my chest and I staggeraway from my dad, whose expression grows more menacing by the second.

“How could you give yourself to a criminal?” Dad demands. “You disappoint me.”

“You don’t understand!”

He approaches the stroller, and I try to pull it away but the handle slips through my grip.

“Harry would be better off without you.” Dad reaches into the stroller and pulls Harry out. Harrycries, writhing in my dad’s arms. Dad turns and begins to walk away.

“No!” I scream, bolting toward him.

But the path stretches out like taffy, and no matter how fast I run or how much I scream, my fatherdoesn’t turn around, and I can’t reach him.

“No! Please!” I beg. “Please!”

I gasp and bolt upright, panting. My heart is pounding. I pat my hand over the top of the bed besideme, hoping to find Gabriel’s familiar form, but I’m alone.

I wish he was here. That nightmare was so vivid, so painful. I swallow and stagger out of bed, wipingthe tears from my eyes as I make my way to the nursery door.

I need to see Harry. Need to know he’s okay.

I peek my head into the room and sure enough, Harry is snoozing happily in his crib. I breathe a sighof relief and lean against the frame for a moment while my body relaxes. Harry is okay. I’m okay. Ishouldn’t let something like a stupid dream get to me so much.

I go back into my room and crawl under the sheets. Despite telling myself everything is okay, I stillwish that Gabriel was here.

I don’t know how long I sleep for, but when I awake again, it is still pitch-black in my room. At first,I don’t understand what has woken me up. I hear something moving in the room and blink into thedarkness. A tall shadow stands at the end of the bed.

“Gabriel?”

No answer.

I try to sit up and realize with horror that I can’t move. My hands and legs are tied down at thecorners of the bed. I tug on the restraints but they don’t give. Liquid fear threatens to choke me and Iopen my mouth to scream.

“Calm down,” Gabriel says, moving around the side of the bed.

Relief floods my system.

“I thought you were an intruder!” I snap. “You scared me.”

Gabriel’s face is veiled in shadow, but moonlight slashes across his bare torso through the blinds,highlighting his drool-worthy muscles. His fingers glide up my bare leg, stopping when they reach the

fabric of my pajama shorts. A shiver of anticipation rolls through me. I whimper without meaning to.

“You know who I am now,” Gabriel says. “I’ve given you a secret, one that I do not dispense lightly.”

I hear a metallic snick and the dim light reflects off something flat and pointed in Gabriel’s hand. Aknife, I realize. My pulse picks up again. The side of the bed sinks with his weight. He skims the flatof the blade up my thigh and the cold metal leaves gooseflesh in its wake.

“Gabriel …”

“I need something from you in return,” he continues.

My mouth is dry and I can’t tell if it’s from fear or arousal. I swallow hard.

“What?” I ask.

“I need you.”

He tugs the blade through the fabric of my bottoms, ripping them up through the waist. My breathcatches in my throat.

“I need you to submit to me fully. You are mine now.”

He tears the knife through the other leg of my shorts as well, then tugs the fabric away until I amcompletely bare. The air feels cold against my wetness. I want him to linger there, to touch me, but theflat of the blade glides over my belly, bunching my shirt over the tops of my breasts. Tendrils of firesnake through my core and I arch up, daring him to cut my shirt the way he did my bottoms.

Riiiip.

Cool air hits my n*****s and they pucker. Gabriel flicks the switchblade closed and tosses it to theside, and the next time he touches me, it is with warm, rough fingers. He captures one of my nipplesbetween his fingers and pinches it. A zap of pleasure shoots straight between my thighs and I groan.

“Tell me,” Gabriel orders in a deep, powerful voice.

My thoughts are battling through a thick fog of lust. “Tell you what?” I gasp.

“Tell me that you’re mine. Tell me that you submit.”

There is a dark edge to his tone I have never heard before. I can tell that if I speak those words, thingswill be different from now on. He has revealed his darker side to me and this is part of it.

A faint, distant voice wonders if I should be afraid, but I’m not. I’m excited.

“I’m yours,” I say, voice thick with need. “I submit to you completely.”