Gabriel's Hope (#1, Rhyn Eternal) (16 page)

Wynn studied her.

“We had sex Friday night! You can’t tell me I didn’t see him!” she cried.

“Are you sure it was him?”

No. She wasn’t. She hadn’t been. He’d been distant and moody, obsessed with security, and much better in bed than normal.

“I take that as a no.” Wynn smiled. “Should we have that talk now?”

“No,” she said with a groan. “I want to get my stuff and leave.”

“Very well. I’ll play along. But Deidre, when we get home, you’re telling me what happened.”

She gazed up at him. He was calm and patient as always, but she wasn’t about to piss off her last friend on the planet. If anyone could handle the truth, Wynn could. She nodded at last. With a look at the car, she trailed him to the beach house. She had no idea what this meant. Gabriel knew the body was there; he had to. He’d been standing by it when she first saw him. But if he hadn’t killed Logan that night, what was he doing hanging around a dead body? If he killed Logan, why come back to the beach at all?

Worse, who the hell had she slept with Friday night, if not Logan? Who was in her apartment?

They returned to the beach house. Wynn helped her carry her stuff to his vehicle. She didn’t know what to do about her car, and he didn’t ask. They rode back to Atlanta in silence, hers distraught, his pensive. He carried her things inside without hesitation, lugging everything to her new room. Deidre followed with a second load.

“Freshen up. We’ll have dinner on the veranda,” he said. “You have any aversion to pasta?”

She shook her head. He closed the door behind him, and she rubbed her face again. A quick shower later, she joined him in the garden once more in a tank top and jeans. The balmy spring air was warm, even after dusk fell. Her thoughts drifted to the island. It seemed so far away, like a dream.

Ever the gentleman, Wynn cleared the table and returned with two drinks: warm, spiced wine. Deidre accepted hers but hesitated to drink it.

“You’re a good friend, Wynn,” she murmured. She pushed herself down in her seat until her head rested on the back of the chair. “What made someone like you take my case?”

“I enjoy a challenge. The doctor before me said you wouldn’t make it a month. Figured I’d try it.”

“You really are too good to quit the field,” she said again.

“Probably,” he agreed. “I prefer to work on my terms. There was a little too much outside interference.”

Deidre studied him. Wynn was relaxed, sharp gaze on some point in the distance as he sipped his wine. She frowned. She had the same strange sense she did when she first met Gabriel, that he wasn’t fully part of this world.

“Do you believe there are people in our world who aren’t like us?” she started.

“You’re talking more than the everyone-is-a-snowflake paradigm?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve seen a lot during my years as a doctor. We are so far from understanding the roadmaps of our DNA. Who’s to say there aren’t genetic variations that lend people to being different?” he asked, shrugging. “Did you meet someone unlike us?”

“I think so. I, uh, did something really awful Saturday night, and the whole world has gone insane.”

“You do something bad? You’re too sweet, Deidre.”

“I had a one night stand,” she admitted. “Logan or …Wynn, if I wasn’t with Logan this weekend …Dammit. One thing at a time.” She pressed the meat of her hands to her eyes to keep from crying again.

“One night stand? This is awful? I thought you’d admit to killing Logan at least.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy by the end of this.” She breathed deeply then told him everything. Almost. One aspect of the weekend she wasn’t ready to accept.

Wynn was calm. Deidre took some solace from the fact he didn’t laugh or throw her out. He listened intently, swirling and sipping his wine. She’d expected horror or disbelief from him during the hour straight that she poured her heart out to him. When she fell silent, he appeared thoughtful rather than surprised.

“Well?” she asked tentatively. “If you want me to get a hotel room, I totally understand.”

He smiled. “No, I don’t. From the first moment I met you, I knew you were meant for something different. I think that special path is what you encountered this weekend.”

“How could you not handle the politics of the job?” she exclaimed. “I told you the most fantastic tale, and you shrug it off like it’s natural.”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t handle the politics, just that I didn’t
like
them,” he replied.

She snorted. “These could be hallucinations, couldn’t they?”

“They weren’t hallucinations. Of this, I am fairly certain.”

“Why?” she eyed him.

He lifted his eyebrows towards the glass in front of her. “I asked you thrice to share what happened over the weekend. After all we’ve been through together the past few years, you should’ve been an open book.”

She looked at the wine, realizing she hadn’t touched it.

“You didn’t drink it, because you have an emotional connection to the person who asked you not to. This wouldn’t be true with a purely psychological phenomenon like a hallucination.” He sipped his wine, eyes on her. “You denied me, despite what I’d call a fairly strong relationship. Which means, what happened between you and this Gabriel was more than a one night stand.”

Her face flamed. She cleared her throat, staring into the wine glass.

“Am I right?” he prodded at her silence.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “They said …I’m his preordained mate, a bond that can’t be broken. I just met the guy, Wynn. It makes no sense!”

“By our rules, no. By their rules, yes.”

“Exactly. I mean, look at this,” she twisted so he could see Gabriel’s name across her shoulders. “To them, it’s permanent like this tattoo.”

“And to you?”

She hesitated. “He said the obligation was one way. He had a duty to me but I didn’t have to choose him. He said it’s my decision if I want to be … to be with him.”

“A noble response,” Wynn said. “By their rules, he doesn’t have to give you the choice, does he?”

She faced him and slumped. “No.”

“You have flirted with Death for three years now. He comes to claim you and becomes enamored instead. What a beautiful story,” Wynn summarized.

Deidre laughed. “When you put it that way, it is!”

He was at ease with the bizarre discussion. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or alarmed that he was playing along with her.

“What will you do?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, he killed Logan, Wynn.”

“I didn’t like Logan anyway.”

“He didn’t deserve to die,” she said, troubled. “It’s my fault he was killed. I never wanted that for him.”

“I know how you feel,” Wynn said. “I lost patients before, people who shouldn’t have died. On paper, they had a ninety percent chance of surviving the operation. I performed exactly as I should have, and yet, they died. The unforeseen, Deidre. You could not have predicted Logan would die anymore than I did one of those patients.”

“I feel so guilty.”

“So do I. For me, it’s a professional hazard. For you, a freak event. Life is known for those.”

“My god, Wynn,” she said, studying him. “I know we talked before, but why didn’t we talk like this?”

He chuckled. “Because now, we are friends. Before, we had a professional relationship. I like you, Deidre. I always have.”

If she didn’t know better, she would’ve read more into his words. He spoke like Mr. Checkmate, the Immortal that greeted her on the beach and spoke of a history with her when she’d never seen him before. She had a history with Wynn, and he was right. They’d transitioned from doctor-patient to friends this evening.

“You must be exhausted after your weekend,” he said. “Go rest.”

She straightened but hesitated. “Wynn, I don’t want to put you in danger. If anything weird happens, please walk or run away or call the police or something.”

“I don’t fear Death or these Immortals of yours,” he said. “I’ve faced enough in my time to take care of myself.”

He sounds like an Immortal.
She shook her head.

“I really am tired,” she said, standing. “Thank you so much for taking me in and not throwing me out after what I told you. I’ll see you in the morning.” She squeezed his shoulder and padded into the house.

“Sleep well, Deidre,” he called after her.

As she walked up the stairs, she realized that Wynn read her the same way Gabriel had the night they met. Wynn always spoke differently, she reminded herself. His perspective was unique, unlike that of anyone else she’d ever met. His ready acceptance of her weekend, however, left her concerned. He wasn’t curious about the existence of an Immortal society, only about what she intended to do, now that
she
knew it existed.

He wasn’t surprised, because he already knew.

Deidre closed the door to her room and leaned against it, struggling to make sense of everything. She tried hard to convince herself that she was misreading Wynn. Reviewing their day together, she couldn’t find any instance where he’d directly tipped her off. But he was a politician. He buried his meaning in vagueness and niceties.

He’d called Gabriel noble. The Immortals earlier in the day said the same. Deidre didn’t know what to think about Gabriel, not when he seemed conflicted about her to start off with. Making love to her, wanting her dead, saving her life, walking away.

He was more confused than she was.

She changed into pajama boxers. Stretching out on the bed, Deidre was tired but not ready to sleep yet. She stared at the ceiling. Something wasn’t right here. She’d ignored the instinct at her apartment, and that ended in disaster. She didn’t want that to be true of Wynn, who had helped her for years.

Deidre didn’t know what to do. She paced and rolled her shoulders to free them of tension. Wynn had always taken care of her, yet she’d felt safe at the Sanctuary and safest in Gabriel’s arms. She flung herself onto the bed again, restless and scared.

She’d found her way here through the shadow world. Could she find her way back to the Sanctuary? What had she done to get to the apartment? Folding her legs beneath her, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I really, really want to feel safe. Wherever that is, that’s where I want to be,” she said. A stir of warm magic, and she opened her eyes, almost screaming again at the cave yawning open in front of her.

As before, one of the yellow doors glowed brighter than the others. Scared, Deidre slid on her sandals and walked into the cold, clammy shadow world. She crossed more boldly this time, terrified of seeing the doorway close behind her before she’d made it through another one.

She entered the balmy Caribbean night. Sand challenged her first couple of steps. She faced the ocean, the moon dangling low and large in the sky before her.

“You learned to use the portals.” His quiet voice made her turn.

Gabriel stood a short distance away. He lowered his sword and straightened from a sparring match with Rhyn, whose pewter eyes glowed unnaturally. They regarded her with wary curiosity.

“Is that what they are?” she asked at the awkward silence.

“Yeah. They take you wherever you want to go,” Rhyn answered. He pointed, and one appeared where he indicated. “Later, Gabe.”

Gabriel lifted his chin in response. She watched the cave swallow Rhyn, unsettled by the idea of moving between places via the shadow world. Her gaze lingered. She didn’t want to look at Gabriel, afraid of what she’d see.

He tossed the sword onto the sand and seated himself on a boulder. From the distance, she felt the bond beckoning her to him. When it was clear he wasn’t going to be the first to speak, she addressed him.

“Did you kill Logan?”

“No.”

“No … what?” She waited.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“Who did?”

“The demon that took on his form. Shape-shifting demons.”

“Oh, god,” she said, shuddering. “You mean …I slept with a
demon
?”

“Yeah.” There was a note of familiar anger in his voice.

Her insides were shaking again. He’d calmed her with a simple touch last night and quenched her body two nights ago. She crossed her arms and walked towards him, stopping close enough for him to reach her, if he wanted to. He didn’t try. Seated, his face was at her level, the dark eyes on her. Moonlight played across his chiseled features. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. The t-shirt he wore was tight around large biceps and snug across his muscular shoulders and thick chest. She’d run her hands over his perfect body, marveling at the smooth skin stretched over solid muscle.

“You’re Death,” she said quietly.

“I am.”

His heat and scent were starting to mess with her at such a distance. Her stomach fluttered, her heartbeat fast. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze at last. She’d imagined staring down Death before, but she never guessed it would be anything like this. Which did she fear more: Death or the man behind the mask? She was compelled towards both, one by emotion and the other by fate.

“The Logan I saw in my apartment was a… a demon,” she managed.

“Yes.”

“They ate someone,” she said, eyes watering. “I saw what was left.”

“That’s what demons do.” He was cool, distant, impossible to read. His tone was matter-of-fact, his answers short. The comfort he’d offered her before was gone.

“It’s been a rough few days,” she murmured.

“For both of us.”

“You were really unhappy about…” she turned and patted the tattoo on her back. “…weren’t you?”

“It was unexpected.”

“Unexpected,” she repeated, face warm. She didn’t know why it bothered her. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I almost did. Twice.”

She fought back the urge to run. “We might have a trust issue.”

He was shutting her out. It was like their talk on the beach the other night never happened. She was surprised to find it bothered her. She felt very alone, exposed, standing before him. He held her gaze, and she had the sense that he was looking beyond her, to her soul, examining it as only Death could.