Ok, completely AU, no powers, Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Elle and Peter/Eden (Sarah Ellis). All four attended NYU and just graduated. Also, a serial killer stalks Central Park. M for all the good stuff: violence, sex and language.
If you want to skip down to the fic or you can read a long winded explanation of how this thing came about. This fic started after I read maxwell02's Always and something on the syelle livejournal. Awhile ago, there was a post on livejournal, I do not remember who or when, about Elle getting to live outside the company if she had a roommate, specifically Eden. That thought kicked around my head for a little bit. Then everything coalesced into one giant idea. Gabriel/Elle plus Elle and Eden as roommates with a serial killer in NYC. The issue was the car did not run without a fourth wheel. Eden/Peter is a strange ship, however I think it works. It was fun to write them anyway. On my profile page is more about Peter/Eden, if you're that interested. Anyway, enjoy.
Screamed.
Elle screamed. The noise cut through the apartment reverberating off the walls. The two strong hands shifted around her waist. Then she was spinning faster, the room rushing past too quickly to comprehend. Everything blurs colorfully. A second scream issued from her lips, with the sound a little less intense. Her golden hair whipping against her face, the muscular shoulder digging into her stomach, she struggles to breath. Around the room again, her mind struggles to decided if it was the fourth or fifth time. Then the hands shift one last time. Elle feels the floor beneath her tennis shoes. For the briefest of moments she stands there, her vision still whirling around her over stimulated mind, when her legs give out. One moment she is glad to feel the floor beneath her feet, the next her knees buckle and with a thump she sits abruptly. The pervious merry-go-round motion becomes a tilt-a-whirl, with her head and torso drift back. Everything spinning swirling circling around as the ceiling comes into view. Some self-aware part of her mind, somehow unaffected by the spinning room tells her this is going to hurt. That the floor consists of hard wood, with only a thin rug her Daddy gave her providing what will soon become inadequate padding. Her face screws up into a most unflattering expression, with her eyes clinched shut, she expects a hard thump.
Soft hands catch her.
Elle opens her blue eyes. Two brown eyes stare down at her from a porcelain face framed by short brown hair. Everything around the face just spins round and round. Elle tries to focus on the face and sees two pale pink lips move. She blinks, considers why she did not hear anything and decides to shake her head. While the spinning was starting to slow, the little head shake causes everything to jump and revolve crazily. Blinking again Elle looks up at the face once more.
Then sound comes rushing in an overwhelming incomprehensible typhoon. Laughter, music, conversations all mash together until the only thing Elle is sure of is the steady thumping beat coming from the stereo across the room.
'Elle,' the brown haired pixie says.
With a sound of wonderment Elle whispers, 'Sarah.'
Then she feels herself moving upward. Her body shifts into a seating position, while the room continues its twisting turning dance. Squeezing her eyes shut she feels an impossible movement like her body is caught in a tornado yet sitting on the floor. Her stomach starts to turn. The soft hands finish pulling her up and then back against something warm.
'I'm gonna be sick', she mutters.
A large strong hand rubs up and down her arm, while a male voice says, 'Open your eyes.'
She does to find him keeling before, with one hand leaving pleasant caresses on her arm. His brown hair in that mishmash spiky he only uses at parties, his too dark brown eyes look at her with concern and something else.
'Breath,' she hears him say.
Air rushes into her lungs. She tries to focus her mind on the simple process of drawing air in and releasing it. The room keeps spinning and her stomach feels like it is doing flip flops, but with each breath the room spins a little slower and her stomach turns over a little less often.
Two soft delicate hands slide around her waist. They interlock gently around her stomach. Then Elle feels Sarah place her head on her shoulder. Their cheeks touch as Sarah's head is perched avian like on her collarbone. Sarah's short brown hair tickles the side of her ear.
Elle keeps looking at Gabriel. Their eyes lock across the short space between them. His hand has stopped moving on her shoulder. His touch warm inviting, if only he brought his hand across and down, just a little, please touch me there she thinks.
'You should've answered the question,' Sarah says lightly. 'You've had way too much to drink to do that. Besides, it was an easy question.'
Elle looks away the moment broken. Friends and friends of friends are scattered about the apartment. Sarah and Elle invited people over to celebrate. Sarah finally got a good radio host position at 103.7 WCID- New York Rock City. Plus, Peter had graduated from Nursing School. Also, it was Saturday night. Finally, the party would help Elle forget about Adam, which was why she drank so many Cosmopolitans.
Thinking back sometime during the evening a game of truth or dare started. Naturally Elle had to get into the middle of it. Everything went fine at first. She could lie easily so if she did not like the question, then she would make up something outrageous. Also, it let her create some really crazy dares, which Gabriel always ends up having to perform. It seemed like any personal question would make him choose the dare. Even the most basic stuff would cause him to blush and then accept the dare, which caused him to do some embarrassing things.
Elle laughed until she could not breathe, when she watched Gabriel have to proposition Peter's brother Nathan. Seeing Gabriel stumbling and stammering flushed deep tomato red was priceless. Then hearing Nathan state that the woman next to him was his date caused Gabriel to just lock up. His whole body want rigid, with his face an unreadable red mask. He looked like some robot waiting instructs before daring to move. He stood that way for a full ten seconds, while Elle slipped off the couch. She laid on her side gasping tears obscuring her vision, while she watched Gabriel turn and walk back to the group with a stiff mechanical gait that looked like one of the mechanical designs that he produced for the New York branch of the Mechanical Innovations Company. Poor Gabriel had a hard enough time with girls, getting to watch him hit on a straight male district attorney was just too much.
Then all the fun ended for Elle, because Sarah decided that she wanted to play. Sarah and Elle met during freshman year at NYU. Both endured mandatory freshman orientation and history classes together. That first day in history they just happened to sit next to each other and a fast friendship born of shared misery formed. Five years later they lived in a two bedroom Manhattan apartment, which Elle's Daddy bankrolled. Elle worked at her Daddy's paper company, Primatech, New York City office. While Sarah struggled along at a small AM radio station, until landing her new job a week ago.
When Sarah sat down on the floor next to her, Elle knew things were going to turn bad. With a bright smile and light tone Sarah announced she wanted to play too. Around the little group the questions and dares went. Sarah started because she was the newcomer. She answered some softball question for Peter. Then Peter went, with another easy question thanks to Sarah. Then it was Elle's turn.
This should not have been a problem because Gabriel was supposed to ask her the question and create the dare. The issue was Sarah sat next to Gabriel. Sure enough Sarah leaned over and whispered something into Gabriel's ear. He sat there blank faced listening before flashing Sarah a slightly concerned look. Sarah just smiled with a little nod to reassure him everything was going to fine.
Elle knew what the question was before Gabriel even looked at her with those dark eyes. Sarah kept pressing Elle about why she broke up with Adam. Why, after a year of dating, she just stopped seeing him one day. Sarah kept telling her that talking about it would help. Well, Elle did not want to talk about it with Sarah or anybody else, especially not in front of all her friends at some party.
'Why did you break up with Adam? Truth or Dare' Gabriel asks.
Elle knows she could lie but Sarah knew her to well to get away with anything easy, like they just grew apart or he was going back to London soon. No, Sarah would figure it out if she lied. Plus, Elle's head was all wooly from the Cosmopolitans, which prevented her from thing of anything that might slip by her overly inquisitive roommate.
'Dare,' Elle said boldly. After all she was a big girl, the best in her Daddy's company, so she could take whatever Gabriel might imagine.
'The whirlwind,' Gabriel said with a soft almost apologetic tone, almost.
Elle threw an electric angry look at Sarah. Her roommate looked back with her brown doe eyes like she had no idea what the problem might possible be. The whirlwind was a stupid game Sarah liked to play with Peter. The latter would spin Sarah around on his shoulders then set her down. Sarah thought the dizzy feeling was fun. Sarah liked rollercoasters too, which probably explains part of why she liked the game. The other reason was it gave her an excuse to have Peter touch her and for her to 'accidently' stumble into him all handsy afterward. If, they fell to the floor together, all the better. Sarah liked that game a lot when she and Peter just started dating. Then one night Sarah and Peter had talked Elle into trying it once. Elle hated it. She did not like feeling dizzy and she did not like rollercoasters either.
Stupid truth or dare game. Quickly Elle stands, with a slight wobble. Elle knew she was too drunk for this because the room was already spinning. She sees Sarah turning to Peter about to ask him to do the honors.
'Come on, Gabriel,' Elle says quickly reaching out to grab his hand. Elle might at least get something out of this miserable experience, besides Gabriel looked so dark and mysterious tonight. She pulls on Gabriel's arm. Drunk, off balance and attempting to pull a much heavier human being to their feet equates to a quick trip to the floor for most people. Indeed it caused the diminutive Elle to fall all over the brawny Gabriel.
One moment she is standing then she is straddling Gabriel's lap. The unexpected position change causes her to pause. She can feel his large hands on her waste. They feel good. A light flutter erupts in her stomach, which has nothing to do with the alcohol. She looks down. His face is pressed tight against her blue tank top. Gabriel's hot breath gently pushing through the thin material, which causes Elle's stomach to flutter more. She looks down wantonly. Almost like he can feel her lecherous look, he tilts his head up away from her breast. That deep tomato red color returns as he briefly meets her blue eyes. Then his hands are pushing her off of him. He stands and reaches down to help her. His big hand seems to envelopes her smaller one. He pulls her to her feet and their eyes meet once more.
'I'll do it, Gabe,' Elle hears Peter say.
'I got it.' Gabriel responds. He takes Elle's hand and leads her away from the couch. Behind them Sarah and Peter exchange a knowing look.
Now, Elle leans back against her best friend reveling in how good Gabriel's hand feels. Her eyes continue to drift around the apartment. There is that Indian guy from down the hall Mohinder or Mo something talking to Isaac. What a painter and a geneticist have in common escapes Elle but whatever. She just does not want to look at Gabriel right now, not with Sarah so close. Then his hand leaves her arm. He stands saying something about it being late. Sarah and Elle wish him a good night.
Then she feels all alone with Sarah. There are probable another dozen people in the apartment but she feels trapped by Sarah's embrace.
'So, you still don't want to tell me about it?' Sarah's tone light, gentle even.
Elle feels her body tense. Whirling around the apartment, the alcohol and now this conversation cause her stomach to tighten.
'It has been nearly three weeks.'
Elle feels her stomach tighten more. After three weeks why does it hurt so much? Walking in and seeing him . . . NO she was not going to think about that now.
'I need a drink,' she hears herself say. Struggling out of Sarah's grasp, stumbling to her feet Elle goes looking for that drink.
Sarah watches her blonde friend half walk half stumble across the apartment toward the kitchen. She really should avoid more alcohol right now but attempting to tell Elle 'no' only makes her more determined. Plus, Sarah felt Peter sit down next to her. Sarah feels his hand slide up her back, with his touch gently and warm. It stops at the base of her neck gently massaging the muscles there.
Leaning back into his hand Sarah asks, 'What time is it?'
'About two-thirty.'
'Hmm. . .Let's get these people out of here.'
'Why? They look like they are still having fun,' he whispers in her ear.
Smiling to herself Sarah feels good about how much bolder Peters has become since they first met. Initially she had to do everything. While he was a really nice guy, he treated her like a doll that might break apart if he touched her. Now, he would touch her, really touch her. Still, she liked being a little wicked.
'How much fun would they have if I took my top off and crawled into your lap?'
'Let me get Nathan out of here at least,' he says with a smile.
The Next Morning
Elle felt a bomb detonate somewhere between her eyes. Someone took her brain out last night, played basketball and then put it back. Oh, God why did they put it back?
Groaning Elle felt around for her extra pillow. Nothing to her right, try the left side, there. She pulls the pillow over her face. Curse the sun, curse the man who put windows in this apartment, curse herself for leaving the blinds open.
She could hear noises from outside her room. It sounded like Peter was saying something about toast. Then the coffee smell hit her. Food and coffee.
Elle lay in bed. Her head hurt. Her stomach hurt. Her eyes hurt. She knew from experience that their existed only one cure, no matter how painful. Food and coffee.
She lay there listening to Peter bang about the kitchen waiting for the coffee pot to stop. Then the pot utters a final gurgling gasp that meant she had to move. Pushing the pillow aside, Elle groans as the terrible light assaults her. Pushing herself from the bed with a groan, she opens her door and staggers toward the kitchen.
The moment Peter sees Elle he knows that he was a Saint in some long forgotten life. Every Saturday night he gets to spend 'quality' time with his girlfriend. Then the next morning he gets to see her very attractive roommate stumble half naked out of her room. Her hung-over roommate was desperate for anything to eat and coffee. All he had to do was make toast and start the coffee, and then wait for the show. The sight of a half naked Elle inevitable caused Sarah some jealously, which she expressed in the most wonderfully way he could imagine: sex. Oh, not just sex but look at me and not her sex, I want my roommate to be jealous of me sex. The post fight sex because my boyfriend was looking at my roommate, while he was supposed to make me breakfast. That is why he liked Sarah having a roommate. Sarah's half naked roommate did wonders for their sex life; however, there was one requirement.
He was required to look at Elle, really look at her, which this morning was quite a treat. Golden hair in post-sleep disarray, eyes blood shot and squinting, not attractive . . . yet the rest, little black push up bra with two gorgeous globes of flesh practically spilling out of it, with matching black panties covering slim hips. Below are those familiar well toned legs . . .
A throat clears. Sarah.
Turning with some reluctance, Peter looks at Sarah. She leans against her bedroom doorway staring witheringly. Peter's shirt from last night is half-way buttoned and drooped around her willowy slender frame like an oversized tent. From experience Peter knew she was probable only wearing his old shirt. His girlfriend's expression was most displeased.
'Peter Ethan Petrelli.' Sarah voice holds that strained edge of command and pleading that he finds irresistible. Also, he knows that this is the opening move in a well choreographed dance that will lead him back to the bedroom. 'After last night, I should not find you looking at another woman first thing in the morning.'
'I was just seeing if Elle needed anything. Right, Elle? Elle?'
Peter turns to find the toast gone, the coffee pot gone and Elle walking back to her room with both items, plus a coffee mug. Oh, those tight black panties. Step, hip sway, step . . .
Something brown and fast cuts across his vision. Was that his shoe?
Duck.
He hears a thud, and then something clattering against metal behind him. Turning around Peter locates one brown leather shoe in the kitchen sink, which means the first object was probable his other shoe.
'Peter Ethan Petrelli, get over here right now.' That tone of voice meant Sarah was indeed very upset with him. Another great Sunday morning thanks to Elle.
'Coming,' he answers.
Elle heard a thud and some yelling behind her. Why did those two argue every Sunday morning? They fought about something every time she left her room, and then had such loud and obnoxious make up sex that Elle was forced to flee the apartment. Placing the coffee pot on a worn NYU textbook, with numerous brown stains, Elle considered her options.
Her head hurt too much to really think but she knew a few things. Have to eat the toast. Drink some coffee. Shower. More coffee. Dress. Escape the apartment before Peter and Sarah made her too uncomfortable or reminded her took much of Adam and her, which would cause her to think of Adam and-NO.
Eat the toast. Picking up a piece she forces herself to take a bite, chew and swallow. Next, she pours some coffee. She takes a sip. Then she takes a second bite of toast, when she hears Sarah yell her name and something about clothes. What clothes? Anyway, Elle finishes the toast and some coffee.
Next, shower. Gathering a few things Elle heads across the apartment toward the guest bathroom. Her bathroom was being worked on, which forced her out of her personal sanctuary. In the hall Elle hears Sarah's commanding voice going on about not being a whore, while Peter responds with indistinct words in a soothing tone. She steps through the bathroom door. Closing it Elle realizes that even with her hangover she really has to do something with her hair. Elle showers feeling the warm water wake up some thinking part of her brain. Then she wraps herself and her long golden locks in towels. She steps out of the bathroom to hear the second act of her Sunday morning torture.
Unbelievable loud moaning sounds accompanied by Sarah canting 'Peter' like she was participating in the last moments of some Wicca summoning ritual greet Elle. She had heard other people have sex before these two, but no one ever came close to their volume, especially on Sunday mornings. Walking back toward her room Elle realized that Sarah's door was wide open, which provided a view of two slim white legs wrapped around Peter's well muscled back. Peter really had some nice definition and that ass. She watched it clench and relax, clench . . . what was she doing? Look away, look away. Moving quickly to her room Elle steps inside to start on her hair.
A short while later, hair dried, decently dressed Elle exits her room for the final time that morning. Now, her roommates hushed conversation interlude, which after about a half hour led to a repeat of act two that Elle hoped to avoid. Elle once made the mistake of assuming the interlude was the end. Sticking around the apartment that morning was very awkward. Nothing traumatizes like walking out of your room to find your roommate bent over the kitchen island, with her naked boyfriend standing behind her, his face contorted into a variety of interesting expression and that skin on skin slapping noise, with accompanying moans. Elle could pass on that visual, again. Also, Elle learned investing strange noises in the apartment was a bad idea. That experience made the number one rule for Sunday morning, get out and get out quickly.
Grapping her keys from the hat rack by the door, Elle steps out of her apartment. She intends to visit a coffee shop before anything else. More coffee and some water and maybe a bagel.
Yeah, defiantly a bagel.
The Coffee Shop
Elle walked through the familiar wooden doors of Coffee Ocean. It was a midsized place just uptown of NYU, which Eden introduced her to their first year at university. That was when Elle developed her addition to the dark liquid ambrosia they served.
Smiling to the clerk, Elle ordered coffee, bottled water and a blueberry bagel. She threw a glance toward the lounge. A scattering of people covered the dark wood tables and plush couches. The lighting was comfortable dark for someone suffering from her condition. Elle paid for her items with her company card. Daddy would not mind buying breakfast for his little girl.
Then she walked toward the lounge. Maybe find some Cosmo or fashion magazine, just about anything to kill the time until she could go home or maybe shopping.
There in the corner. No. Gabriel? Elle was certain that he lived in Queens. Elle walked over to his table pressed in the distant right corner about as far away from the other patrons as possible.
'Hey.'
He looks up at her, with his eyes big and dark behind blocky glasses. This was the Gabriel she first met who had carefully parted hair, glasses, dress shirts, sweater vests and slacks. He smiles sheepishly at her. The spiky haired and dark eyed man from last night was gone. She thought he looked so nerdy, cute but nerdy. Nothing like the other person she sometimes meets all dark, mysterious and wolf like.
He said something. She blinks, smiles, 'What?'
'Would you like to sit with me?' the smile straining as he seems to think that may not be why she walked over to him.
'Sure.' She plops down opposite him. Arranging her drinks and bagel, she looks at what he was reading.
'Is that today's paper?'
'Yes,' he answers, 'would you like the front page?'
'Sure.'
She pulls it across and unfolds it. The headline is all too familiar.
SLAYER STRIKES AGAIN!
Elle reads the article, while absentmindedly eating her bagel.
Police confirmed that the body of a young woman was found near the Central Park Pond. The young woman was thought to be another NYU co-ed. The police refused to confirm if the body was mutilated like those of the pervious Central Park Slayer victims; however, one unofficial source stated that the woman was disfigured like the other ten victims.
The Central Park Slayer appeared last October. Since then, one body every month appeared at various locations in Central Park. Slayer appears to kill men and women randomly. The only connection is that they were all are NYU students or alumni. The Slayer kills all his victims by cutting off the top part of their head. Police remained baffled by the exact methodology used to commit the crimes. They speculate that the victims are killed at an alternate location and dumped at the park.
Lead detective Bradley stated that the investigation will continue. Also, Det. Bradley refused to directly comment on how close police are to an arrest. This reporter learned from a confidential source that Det. Bradley stated privately that he was 'clueless' to who the murder might be. Additionally, Det. Bradley denied that any connection could exist between Slayer and the 2007 'Head Clipper' killings in London's Hyde Park, which had a similar MO.
Elle sighs. These Slayer killings are really worrying. She actually knew one girl, Candice, who died about six months ago.
Looking up she says, 'Did you read this?'
Turning away from the business section Gabriel looks at her, with oversized eyebrows raised in a questioning look.
'About the Slayer?' Elle probes.
'Oh, yeah. Terrible,' he says like she commentated that it rained yesterday.
Weird.
'It doesn't worry you? I mean you went to NYU, too,' Elle says.
Gabriel looked at her blinks a few times, shrugs and says, 'I never really thought about it.'
'Why are you here anyway? Don't you live in Queens?' Elle asks.
'Oh, I do some work out of my dad's old watch shop. Just a few things on the side to help out. I fixed some time pieces for St Paul's Church, so I brought them over and attended the 10 o'clock mass.'
Elle looks at him blankly. She was not all that religious.
'St. Paul's is the Catholic Church just a few blocks west near Central Park,' Gabriel says flushing slightly.
'Oh. I did not know you were Catholic.'
'Yeah,' he says blushing more.
'That is nothing to be embarrassed about. Religion is good for some people,' Elle says. It is just not her thing.
'It's OK. My mother really pushed it one me when I was a kid, so it just feels normal . . .,' Gabriel states.
Great, religious and mommy issues. Maybe Gabriel was not who she thought. Still, there were times he just looked and acted so different. It was like he had two different people inside him.
Elle sat sipping her coffee staring at him. She tried to image the man from last night without glasses, with that spiky hair and those dark smoldering eyes. Where did he go?
'So, what did you have planned for today?' Elle hears him ask.
'Nothing. I just really had to get out my apartment. Listening to Sarah and Peter have sex gets old.'
Gabriel blushes, looks away and adjusts his glasses. Elle did not realize that talking about sex was that big a deal for Gabriel. If he was this uncomfortable talking about it, they were going to go nowhere.
Shifting like his leather chair suddenly was assaulted by ants Gabriel says, 'I'm going to the library on 58th. Want to come?'
Elle looks at her watch. Still, way too early. The lovebirds were probable hot and heavy in round four. Oh, God. She really did not want to think about that, about handcuffs and blindfolds and coming home too early one afternoon.
'Sure,' Elle says. She endured libraries at NYU, where she vowed to never enter one again after graduation. Still, going with Gabriel was better than sitting her alone. Elle hated being alone. Also, with that psycho killer targeting NYU alumni, she did not want to be alone. Besides Gabriel was harmless, which was somewhat disappointing after last night.
Elle and Gabriel stand. She grabs her bottled water. They walk outside and start down 56th street. Elle makes ideal chatter that Gabriel responds to with social appropriate yet disinterested comments. Elle takes his comments as encouragement and continues on about the fall fashion line and how her Daddy's company does all the print ups for different fashion magazines. When they get to Park Ave., Elle states it would be quicker to cross it and go up Lexington on the other side. They hurry across Park Ave and make their way to Lexington.
The street is mostly abandoned. Even in New York City people do not like getting up on Sundays. Plus, this was a side street that people avoided to walk down the famous Park Ave.
The only other person around them was a scruffy looking man wearing a tattered looking suit.
'Hey, buddy,' a voice calls from behind them.
'Buddy, wait up.'
Gabriel stops and turns to look at the scruffy man. He tilts his head in that questioning look Elle first noticed at NYU. The way he tilted his head like one side was suddenly unbalanced by his curiosity made her chuckle.
'Yes?' Gabriel's voice is calmly polite.
'Nice girl, shame if something happened to her,' the man said, while leering at Elle.
'Excuses me?!,' Elle's tone angry annoyed.
'Give me your wallet, mate, and the girl's purse,' the man's voice gone hard, his eyes cold.
Gabriel starts to reach behind him like he is going to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket.
'No, we are not giving you anything. It is broad daylight, what do you think you are doing?' Elle says furiously as she steps toward the man.
Suddenly an exploding pain hits her stomach. She cannot breath. She doubles over the man's fist gasping and gasping like a drowning person trying to find air underwater. Then she falls to her side.
Vaguely she sees movement. Gabriel looks like he is on top of the man. Both men roll back and forth a whirling mass of arms and legs. Then Gabriel sits up over the man. He reaches beside him for something. Blinking and trying to force air into her lungs, Elle sees that Gabriel grabbed a rock of something like it. The glasses are gone, hair messy, a mask like that of some tribal warrior covers Gabriel's face. The he raises the rock, and brings it down, with a sickening wet thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
With each rise and descent, little trails of blood slip from the rock, while bits of teeth scatter across the sidewalk. Blood splashes across Gabriel's face, hands and sweater. The look of murderous rage grows more intense each time the rock descends.
Thud.
'Gabriel,' Elle says.
Thud.
Elle can breathe again. She yells louder, 'Gabriel.'
The rock pauses mid descent. Gabriel blinks. He turns to look at her. Those eyes from last night, dark, mysterious, smoldering pin her.
Oh, God. Little specks of blood cover his face, abstract lines of it crisscross his sweater and his hands are dripping wet. She feels warm. Her entire body is on fire. She wants him, oh, sweet Jesus she wants him. Staring at those dark eyes she sees the other man, the other Gabriel.
Then he looks down. The scruffy man lies coughing beneath him. Bits of teeth and blood decorate from his ruined face. Gabriel tosses the rock aside and stands.
'Get up, quick,' the tone more authoritative than anything Elle heard Gabriel say previously.
Then he takes her hand and pulls her down the street. Next, they head down some alley. Then another street, followed by a second alley. Elle feels completely lost. Then he stops.
This whole time he refuses to look at her or listen to her pleas to halt. Suddenly he pulls his sweater off. He uses the back to clean the blood from his face and hands the best he can. Then he notices that her right hand is bloody too.
'Are you hurt?' his tone desperate, self-deprecating.
'No, I'm fine. . . it's the other guys,' Elle says while looking at her bloody hand.
Then he is using the sweater to clean it off. He keeps saying how sorry he is that it happened. How he should have done better.
She feels his large hands engulf hers. They feel so warm and strong. Elle uses her free hand to still his. She looks up at him. Her blue gaze locks with his brown. She leans forward shifting her balance to her toes, her lips brush against his.
Then she feels him push her against the alley wall. His hands pin her shoulders against the building, while his lips attack her. He kisses her hard and hungry.
Elle feels his tongue push against her lips. She barely opens her mouth before it slides in, twisting teasing. Her body explodes in warmth. She moans against his mouth.
Then he pulls away gasping. His forehead touches hers, while he looks at her electric blue eyes. His dark gaze hungry like that of a starving predator. They stand there looking at each other, with each attempting to penetrate the enigma of the other's soul.
Suddenly he looks away. He takes her small hand in his large one, and leads them back to the street.
'Library,' the only word he says.
Since you read the whole thing, be kind and review. Any comments are welcome.