Falling

by Christina Lauren

From the side of the room, he watched the little lamb. He’d been unable to take his eyes off her, in fact, tracking her from the moment she was dragged in behind the basketball player—a

He stared at the lamb’s face—enormous hazel eyes, sharp cheekbones, a mouth like a soft, edible heart—and then took in the rest of her. Brown curls fell past her shoulders; she was petite but stood with a 6posture that spoke of a stubbornness and passion that made his skin hum. Feeding was endlessly more fun when they had a little fire in them.

And yet a familiar restlessness ate at him, made a tight, agitated sensation take seed in his gut and spread into his limbs. He was too impatient to spend hours slowly siphoning energy from the room, but he didn’t want to take one of these dazed women into a dark bedroom for pleasure and feeding either. He wanted the same thing he’d wanted for centuries: to not have to live like this anymore.

She’d heard his command but been unaffected by it. How? He needed to get her alone.

What kind of idiot brought the most beautiful girl to a tawdry, cacophonous party like this and deserted her? If only he knew there were monsters out there, waiting for their turn.

He sent a hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled in a deep breath that only seemed to heighten his hunger for this strange human. He’d discovered that she could hear the voice but wasn’t commanded by it; she’d felt his allure, been tempted by it, but it hadn’t made her 13mindless. He could taste her in the air, her lust like golden licks of flame all around her—but she’d kept her own mind.

“You’re beautiful, little lamb. Everyone in that room noticed you.” He smiled. “I’d wager everyone in any room notices you.”

“Who are you?” “My name is Brigan.” He stilled after he said it, his smile evaporating. Why had he said it? Brigan hadn’t told a human his real name in . . . centuries. The closest he’d gotten to even speaking it had been words like twig or rig, which had always felt like a familiar echo on his tongue.

had been Michael, Edgar, George, Louis . . . He’d rotated through a handful of names for decades. The old driver’s license in his wallet said Samuel James Miller, an identity he would 16soon need to abandon because the date of birth printed there was 1943 and—at least until the curse was broken—Brigan would forever look twenty-five, not eighty-one. But right now, here with her, it hadn’t even occurred to him to prevaricate.

“How honest do you want me to be?” he asked. “Completely.” “I followed you in here because you looked lonely. I followed you in here because you’re beautiful, and I like beautiful things.” A pause, and then the rest slipped out of him: “I followed you in here because I’m lonely too.”

But with every cursed cell in his body, Brigan wanted the little lamb to voluntarily stay. He registered that he wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted anyone since before, when his human body had ached for connection and touch and relief, not merely sustenance. Sex had lost its meaning, becoming synonymous with feeding, but now the word whispered through him, sibilant and seductive, turning his muscles taut.

Everything about this human—the inquisitive tilt of her head, the angle of her wary smile, the clarity in her eyes—suggested to him that sex with her could be different. That it wouldn’t only be pleasure rolling off her in waves for him to consume, it might be pleasure uncorked for him too.

“What’s your name, little lamb?” She chewed her lip, and the...

Maybe she did know him. In a past life, or in dreams, or in something else that seemed impossible but true at the same time.

Cat reached forward, setting her hand on his stomach. It jerked under her touch, his breath sucking in sharply, and when she glanced up at his face, an expression of disoriented wonder widened his eyes. Her fingertips felt the solid lines of his body, wandering up over his pectorals, his sternum, and she traced a single finger up the length of his throat, over his chin, and drew the shape of his mouth as it turned up into a smile.

“Are you seducing me, little lamb?” “Shh,” she whispered, smiling, enchanted again,

She knew where this was going: She wanted him, and he wanted her to want him, and it didn’t matter where her desire ended and his invisible persuasion began. Wanting him didn’t scare her, didn’t feel impuls...

Brigan couldn’t remember a lover who hadn’t mindlessly devoured whatever he gave them and then greedily demanded more. He reeled in understanding when it hit him, for it had been so long: This was what real desire looked like.

“We might not have time to do everything I’d like to do to you,” he said. “Then just do the most important things,” she teased,

Relief and longing rushed through him, and he fit his mouth to hers. Her lips immediately responded—soft, warm, and sweetly wet. A kiss, just a simple kiss, unlike anything he’d had since before: the slide of their mouths together, the playful slotting and tugging of lips and teeth. Brigan groaned, unable to resist deepening the contact, feeling the small, teasing slip of her tongue over his, the tight fist of her hand in his hair as she sent the other down between their bodies and over the steeling length of him. She gasped, sucking his breath from his mouth, and at the sight of her golden desire rolling in waves from her skin, instinct took over.

but how was he meant to resist? He was accustomed to seeing desire as a pale glow—shimmering cream, the occasional soft yellow—but Catalina’s pleasure was unlike anything he’d ever seen, emanating from her in pulsing, golden waves.

He felt need like a hammer pounding beneath his skin and all along his length, but allowed himself the indulgence of a taste, coaxing one leg over his shoulder, leaning in for a kiss, a lick, and then—giving in—another and another until he was feasting on her in earnest, lost in the feel of her on his tongue, the sensation of plummeting into infatuation.

Brigan felt barely in control. Just as her sounds grew tight and frantic, he stood and, with a rare desperation, fumbled for his belt, his button, his zipper, freeing himself. Lifting her, he stepped forward, and in one thrust he was inside, the feel of her stunning his senses so thoroughly that for a moment all he could do was lean against her, pinning her to the wall. Without leverage, she writhed against him, begging with her body and her sounds and, finally, her voice, so close. “Brigan, please.”

Catalina’s breaths grew tight and fast. She begged for more of him, and when he gave it, she came, and then came again, and again. He knew with every passing second that the chances of someone happening upon them increased, grew almost certain, but Brigan couldn’t let himself find his own release because it was already too perfect, too unbelievable, and once he finished, then what would become of him? How would he find satisfaction with anything less than this?

Madness, he thought to himself. This is what madness feels like, to want to exist in a moment that isn’t reality. And what a relief it was to know that he couldn’t fall in love with her, was incapable of it, because if this was a fraction of love, he would never be able to let her out of his sight.

She cupped his face, bringing his mouth to hers, and kissed him, deep and defenseless, whispering, “You’re going to ruin me for anyone else.” He closed his eyes, his silent heart echoing the same fear. And when she pressed her lips to the shell of his ear and whispered, “Come for me, Brigan,” he did.

Brigan set Cat down on shaking, weak legs. Pleasure still reverberated through her body; the rumbling moan he’d given when he’d climaxed still echoed in her mind. With his hands lingering on her hips, he waited until she got her bearings before stepping back. She felt the way he watched her steadily, his dark eyes guarded.

“You can lie down on the bed if you need to rest,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of confusion. She shook her head again. “I’m not tired.” In truth, she couldn’t imagine sleep right now. What he’d just done to her . . . she wasn’t sure she had the words to describe it. She had never been with a man this strong, had never been with a lover this attuned to her pleasure. It had been hard, and wild, and frantic.

“Are you all right?” she asked, and he nodded, but she had the sense that he was lying. “Brigan, look at me.”

Finally, he lifted his eyes to hers, but slowly, dragging his focus from her hips up over her stomach, her breasts, her throat, her mouth. “I’m not going to see you again, am I?” she asked, her stomach falling in realization. Hesitating, he shook his head. “Why?” His eyes shuttered, the playful light extinguishing. “Because, little lamb, it doesn’t work that way.”

Brigan bent, collecting her clothes for her and wordlessly helping her back into them. Her underwear and bra, which he fastened for her. He held her leggings as she stepped into them one foot after the other and eased them up her legs and over her hips. He angled her sweater over her head and guided each arm inside before sliding it down her body, looking as miserab...

“Am I presentable?” she asked, forcing levity into her voice and smiling up at him. The idea of not seeing him again made her unbearably sad. “No one would look at you and have the faintest idea what we’ve been up to.” “I’m not sure that’s true,” she said. “It smells lik...

Brigan bent, resting his lips over hers for a long, soft beat, but when she opene...

“Everything you asked, and then some.” Catalina scowled. “You know what I mean.” He did know. He knew, because he felt the same disorientation she felt—he’d never had sex like that with a human, and never left a human in a state other than sleeping peacefully, temporarily drained of energy. Not only was she awake and alert, but she’d also been sweetly ravaged and sated, smelling like him, warm with continued longing. Leaving Catalina in that room had been nearly impossible.

“But?” 28 “But I’ve never wanted to have sex with a stranger before, and with you, it was more than that. You didn’t feel like a stranger, and I just—I just—” She was flustered, and he had to fight the urge to walk up the steps to her. “I just want to understand.”