Falling

by Christina Lauren

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.

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

“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.”

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.

Wanting him didn’t scare her, didn’t feel impulsive or shameful or dangerous. It simply felt inevitable.

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.

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 was so beautiful, it made him ache.

“How old are you?” He looked surprised; obviously this wasn’t where he expected her to start. “Twenty-five.” And she’d expected him to be honest. “Yes, but how long have you been twenty-five?” Brigan grinned, saying cheekily, “A while.” A laugh burst out of Cat’s throat. “Is this your way of admitting to me that you’ve read Twilight?”

“Ah,” he murmured, his heated gaze sweeping over her face, and a hum filled her head, her body felt warm and liquid. “That’s my sweet lamb.”

“I’m doomed to walk the earth, alone and immortal, until my beloved finds me and rescues me.”

Her voice was soft, teasing but not mocking: “And how will your beloved rescue you?” “Apparently, she will simply see me,” he said, staring into his glass. “I see you.”

Brigan stilled now as Catalina’s tentative caresses circled the wide base of his left wing where it joined his taut back muscles and traveled up over the broad arc of it, gently, seductively, exploring the enormous wind-roughened curve all the way down to the erotic, sensitive, feather-soft tip. He gasped, electrified, his entire body gone rigid. She pulled back to take in his expression, her wonder immediately crashing into remorse. “I’m sorry! I should have asked. I just didn’t know if they were real.”

Thunderstruck, mute, he stared down at her and simply nodded, for all around him the world began to melt into color and vibration and sound; her face, which had been beautiful to him from the moment he saw her, was now something else altogether, still beautiful but now irresistible; dear to him in a way that held her tenderly at the very center of each cell in his body. His life, his love, his soul stood before him.

“If I’d given you another, what was your final question going to be?” he asked her, his voice hoarse with emotion. Catalina looked up at him, her eyes adoring and concerned. “I was going to ask you whether you could fly.” He could; he could fly and glide and soar and dive, but right in that moment, with his soul and heart returned to him, with Catalina standing before him and their future spreading out ahead like a vibrant, luxurious tapestry, Brigan could only fall to his knees.