Written In Stone

Angela Elliott. She was a fascinating woman, but the infirmity of her body surprised him, to say the least. He wanted nothing more than to court her, accompany her to balls and parties, and sit quietly with her, listening to her melodic voice. He wanted her, he reluctantly acknowledged, but he wasn't sure what to do about it. If she were any other woman, he would have her alone, naked, and beneath him by now; but she wasn't any other woman and that was the critical piece to this puzzle.
    Angela was a woman who required commitment, and he wasn't sure he was ready to go that far. Knowing she would never simply be his lover, he knew he would have to go all the way with her, or not at all, and that was the tricky part. If he chose to go all the way, he would have to trust her with everything about himself. That scared him, and prevented him from ever being with a woman more than once or twice. Trusting someone, anyone, with the knowledge of who he really was, could be his undoing, and he wasn't sure he was ready to take a step like that. Gavin Stone kept secrets no one knew about, not his business partners, not his friends.
    His parents knew, of course, but they were like him, so that hardly counted. His parents warned him to be very sure of the woman he picked as his mate, because, if anyone found out, it could mean death for them all. They said he would know his mate when he met her. Did he know? Was Angela Elliott the one? How could he be sure? He knew he wanted a relationship with her, but he also knew he would have to tell her the truth, all of it. Gavin took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, muttering a few choice curses under his breath.
    Sitting back heavily in the leather chair, he looked out the window. As far as he could see, everything was his, and he could see for miles and miles. He sipped a brandy, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. Not really seeing beyond the window, his mind filled with the beautiful Angela Elliott. Her pouty lips needed kissing; her full breasts needed suckling, and he needed to be the one to do it. Sighing, he noticed the drink in his hand, tossed it back, and set the crystal glass on the sideboard before going out.
    Dusk, those few moments between day and night when a multitude of blues and purples colored everything, when the sun disappeared, taking the heat of the day with it. Nighttime was Gavin's time.
    Strolling along the streets of the fashionable Haley District dressed in a black suit made of lightweight material with a long black cape lined in black satin, he inhaled the scents of the evening blooms. Gone was the heavy material he wore during the day; the heavy overcoat, the wide-brimmed hat, and the gloves he detested. The sun's rays now gone, so too was the danger to his skin. He didn't need the cape either, but he liked the way it looked on him.
    Making his way through the Haley District to the downtown area, he turned right on Raven Street, heading toward the river and the seedier side of town. Dilapidated buildings, stoops crumbling and window frames lacking glass, crouched by gutters filled with garbage, putrid water, and grime. The rats here weren't afraid of humans and grew nearly as large as the cats chasing them. The owners couldn't care less how their tenants lived as long as they paid the rents on time. It was here that half-naked children played in the streets. Some with only a mother to care for them; others a grandmother or aunt; few were lucky enough to have two parents who loved and wanted them. It was here that children disappeared, never to be heard of, or from, again.
    Here, men of ill repute could buy young girls and boys for their own purposes. A few dollars or a box of food to a mother with three or four other starving children, and the child of their choice was theirs for the taking. Sometimes, the children lived on the streets alone, put out by whoever was supposed to care for them. Putting an older child out meant more food for the younger ones. And it was here that Gavin stalked the streets and alleys like a specter hidden in the shadows of the night.
    He could understand a lot of things he didn't approve of, but the molestation and rape of children was not one of them. Selling young girls and boys into a life of prostitution he did not understood either. Gavin had sex, lots of it, but never once did he desire a young, shapeless girl beneath him; nor did he ever desire a boy, or another man, for that matter. When Gavin was