Dark Legend (11 page)

Francesca merged with his warmth, both physically and mentally. The feel of his body so close, so protective, next to hers was a gift. When had a man held her in arms of steel? When had a body, so hard, so defined with masculine muscle and sinew, sheltered her close?

"Why didn't he respond when I commanded him to leave?"
That had surprised her, even alarmed her. She had promised the child. It had never happened before. Humans had always listened and obeyed the "push" in her voice.

Gabriel recognized her distress, understood that she judged herself less than him, a failure.
"You are of the light, my love. I am the darkness itself. Thompson was wholly evil. You can restrain and delay evil, but you cannot completely touch its core because you cannot connect with it. Most humans are both good and evil. Not pure evil. You can connect with them because you can touch that which is good. I have the demon in me; it is my nature. He resides there, crouched low, waiting to leap out when I forget to leash him. I know evil every day of my existence. When you control it every day, it is not such a great feat to destroy it."
Gabriel dismissed his actions easily. "You are not less than I, Francesca. You have never been less. You saved lives and I took them. Who is the greater?"

Her slender arms crept up around his neck seemingly of their own accord. "You saved our people. You saved the human race. Not once, but decade after decade. It was your nature that allowed you to do so." Her voice whispered over him, a soft sound of admiration, a seduction in itself.

The faint stubble on his jaw caught the silken strands of her hair as he rubbed his chin on the top of her head in a little caress. "You must feed, honey. You are drooping with weariness." His coaxed her gently.

"Brice is right outside the door. They've given up on saving Thompson. He'll be in any moment." Her soft voice brushed his body like her fingers, producing a savage, unrelenting ache, but Gabriel kept himself strictly under control. She needed to be held, to be comforted, to be taken care of, not assaulted.

"Take what you need, I am quite capable of sustaining an illusion for humans." There was a faint husky note in his voice, one that was aching and lonely, turning her heart over. He needed the intimacy of providing for her as much as she needed the nourishment.

Almost blindly Francesca turned her face into his throat, inhaled the spicy masculine scent of him. His heart beat strongly, in rhythm with hers. The blood ebbed and flowed in his veins calling to her, an enticement. The warmth of her breath against his skin heightened his pulse, tightened his body to such a painful ache, he clenched his teeth in response, his hand bunching in the thickness of her hair.

Her mouth moved over his skin, soft, sensuous, seductive. At once need slammed into Gabriel so hard it shook his entire frame so that he trembled with urgent desire. Her teeth scraped once over his pulse, her tongue swirled in a velvet soft caress. Gabriel's fist tensed in her hair, pressing her closer to his suddenly heated skin. In response to his urging, her teeth sank deep, lancing him with white-hot lightning and a blue flaming fire that would never be quenched again. It was in his body for all time, in his mind, in the taste of his mouth, a fiery ache in his heart that danced in his very blood.

Warmth spread like thick molten lava. His heart was aching for her. It was not simply the physical demands of his body beating at him like a jackhammer, but something that went far deeper. The closeness of her mind, the right-ness of the way she fit against him, crawled inside his skin. He recalled the tears she had wept for a stranger, her courage in facing the monster that posed as a man, and realized she was far more than a body to sate his wild appetites and an anchor to keep him safe from the growing darkness.

He was aware of Brice in the hallway turning slowly to stare at the door with a frown on his face and suspicion in his mind. Brice would have to be handled carefully. But not too carefully. A slow smile curved Gabriel's mouth, and there was little humor in it. He waved his hand and cloaked his body and Francesca's so that they were invisible to the human eye. He built the illusion of Francesca leaning close to Skyler, whispering softly to her with encouragement. His clone was in the corner, giving the two women a semblance of privacy.

Brice pushed into the room, revealing something very close to fear in his eyes when he looked over at Gabriel's clone. He glanced at Francesca talking so intimately with the teenager, and stopped himself from speaking. He glared at Gabriel, who smiled rather sardonically at him, arrogance etched into his classical Greek features. It annoyed Brice that the man was so good-looking, so tough. Gabriel's rescue of Francesca made him look bad. He couldn't afford to take a chance on breaking his hands. He was a doctor, for heaven's sake.

Gabriel half closed his eyes as Francesca swirled her tongue over the tiny pinpricks in his neck to close them, savoring the moment, the feeling. She lifted her head, her gaze drowsy, sexy, satiated, almost as if they had made love. He bent his head and kissed her forehead gently, holding her close for one more heartbeat before reluctantly allowing her to slip away, to take the place of the clone in the chair by the bed.
"Thank you, Gabriel, I feel much better."

From the corner he bowed, an elegant, courtly gesture as Francesca turned with a small, secret smile. Brice's hands clenched into two tight fists. There was something different about Francesca, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. She was more beautiful than ever, but it was something elusive. Something she shared with Gabriel.

"I must speak with Francesca about my patient," Brice announced and then was annoyed with himself for sounding like a loud, defiant child. Abrasive. Harsh even. He made an effort to lower his voice. "Privately if you don't mind, Gabriel."

"Of course not."

Brice winced at the purity and goodness in that voice, at such odds with his own. It was as gentle as a summer's breeze, as soft as velvet.

Brice took possession of Francesca's elbow and all but pulled her out of the room. Francesca tried not to notice the difference in the way the two men touched her, but it was impossible. "What is it, Brice? You're upset." She spoke calmly even as she removed herself from his grip.

"Of course I'm upset. I just lost a man who had absolutely nothing wrong with him. Except a crushed hand. It was pulverized. The bones were crushed like matchsticks." It was an accusation and once more Brice realized he had raised his voice.

She lifted one perfect eyebrow. "I don't understand what you're saying. Skyler's father died of a crushed hand? How strange. I didn't know that was possible."

"You know damned well it's not," he snapped. "He strangled. His throat swelled, was completely closed, just like that, for no apparent reason."

"Are they going to do an autopsy?"

He raked a hand through his hair. She drove him crazy. She just didn't get it. "Of course they're going to do an autopsy. That isn't the point." He clenched his jaw. In his head he swore he heard Gabriel's taunting laughter, low and amused. "It's that man."

"What man?" Francesca's black eyes were wide and beautiful, entirely too innocent. Of course she wouldn't know, she would never suspect anyone of wrongdoing.

Exasperated, Brice took a step toward her, wanting very much to shake her. At once he felt an oppressive malevolence gathering in the hall, thickening the air, the exact same feeling that had been in the room before Gabriel entered. Nervously Brice glanced at the door. He cleared his throat, jerked his head toward Skyler's room. "Him."

"Gabriel? Are you implying Gabriel had something to do with Thompson's death?" Francesca sounded somewhere between outraged and amused. "You can't be serious, Brice."

"He crushed his hand, Francesca. Your Gabriel did that. Crushed his fist with one hand. I watched him do it and he wasn't even straining. I never even saw him come into the room. He was just there. There's something not quite right about him. His eyes. They aren't human. He's not human."

Francesca stared at him wide-eyed. "Not human? As in what? A phantom? A ghost that flies through the air? A gorilla? What? Maybe he lifts weights. Maybe he's strong because he lifts weights and his adrenaline was pumping. What are you saying?"

"I don't know, Francesca." Brice raked a hand through his hair again. "I don't know what I'm thinking, but his eyes were not human. Not when he was confronting Thompson. He's different."

"I know Gabriel. I do. He's perfectly normal," Francesca insisted softly.

"Maybe you
knew
him. People change, Francesca. Something happened to him. Of course he's no phantom, and he can't fly, but he's dangerous."

"Gabriel is one of the most gentle men I know." She started past him back to the room.

Brice caught her arm in a bruising grip, a surge of anger making his grip much harder than necessary. Instantly something pinched a nerve in his own arm, causing it to go completely numb. He cried out, was given no choice but to release her as his arm dropped uselessly to his side. "What the hell? Francesca, my arm! Where are you going?"

"I'm too tired to deal with this right now. You're jealous, Brice. I don't blame you for what you're feeling, but I'm exhausted and I don't want to discuss Gabriel any more, especially if you're going to say such awful things about him. You don't know the first thing about him." She jerked open the door and nearly ran into Gabriel's arms.

He bent over her, his body posture protective. "What is it, sweetheart, what has upset you?" His arms circled her slender body and pulled her into the shelter of his large frame. He had heard every word Brice had said to her, every accusation and each innuendo that remained unsaid. Over her head his eyes met the doctor's. In the depths burned a fiery flame of sheer menace.

Brice stopped dead, terror seizing him. More than ever he was convinced Gabriel was a dangerous man. His arm had suddenly returned to normal and he made a mental note to have it checked out. He held on to the door for support, determined to see this through. "Francesca, we have to decide what we're going to do about Skyler. I doubt very much if her father left her a thing, and from what he said he's her only relative."

Francesca turned immediately to face him. "She'll be well taken care of. I intend to become her legal guardian. I've promised her I'd be there for her."

Brice threw his hands up in the air in total exasperation. "You can't do that, Francesca. There you go again, trying to save every wounded soul in the world. You aren't responsible for this girl. You don't even know her. She could turn out just like her father. She'll need therapy for the next twenty years."

"Brice—" Francesca sounded as if she was on the verge of tears. Taking a deep breath, she calmly tried to reason with him. "What's the matter with you?"

He made an attempt to get himself back together. "I know you want to help this girl; God knows I want to help her too, but we can only go so far. She needs professional help, not the two of us."

"So what do you suggest, Dr. Renaldo?" Gabriel asked softly, his voice gentle.

There was nothing gentle in his still, watchful eyes. They reminded Brice of a predator's. A wolf with deadly intent. The look gave Brice an eerie feeling. He struggled to maintain his composure. "I suggest she be left to the professionals. There are people who deal with this sort of thing. If Francesca wants, she can donate money."

Francesca looked at Brice. "I gave her my word, Brice. She came back because she believed in me."

"Then visit her every now and then. You don't owe her your life. We have plans together, Francesca. You can't make these kinds of decisions without me."

Gabriel stirred, a ripple of muscle, no more, but it was intimidating.
"I can see to the child, Francesca. I will remove the memory of your promise and replace it with my own. I will see to her care and happiness while you take your time deciding what you are going to do about this human. I do not wish to complicate your life any further than I have already, but like you, I cannot abandon the child."

"I keep my promises, Gabriel."
Francesca shook her head. "I'm not going to argue, Brice. I'm too tired. I'm going to go out into the night and stare at the stars or something. I need fresh air. I gave Skyler my word. There is nothing else to say."

"I think there is," Brice snapped, angry that Gabriel was witnessing this argument between them. They rarely argued, but he couldn't keep quiet now. This teenager would affect their lives together. He was not taking a chance that a nutcase would be living in their home with them. No way. And Gabriel had to go.

Gabriel simply took the matter out of Francesca's hands. He could feel her exhaustion beating at him, the sadness in her, the overwhelming need to leave this confined space and be out in the open. Brice couldn't comprehend what she went through to heal his patients, what it took for Francesca to merge with them and know every detail of their lives, every moment of their suffering. It was beyond Brice's comprehension, but not Gabriel's.

With his arm around her shoulder he walked quietly out of the room, taking her with him, his hold gentle but implacable. Francesca hardly seemed to notice. She went with him willingly. Gabriel turned his head slowly, looking back over his shoulder as he glided silently from the room, his black eyes moving over Brice's face. His stare was merciless, relentless. For one moment his white teeth flashed in a humorless smile, exposing a glimpse of razor-sharp fangs.

Chapter Five

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The breeze washed over Francesca's face as she looked up at the night sky. A thousand stars twinkled and glittered overhead. She inhaled to take in the crisp clean air, washing the hospital smell from her lungs. Gabriel walked unhurriedly through the streets, his stride slowing to match hers perfectly. He didn't talk, didn't demand answers, didn't dictate to her. He simply walked beside her, asking nothing of her.