It’s the point in the horror movie where the heroine screams and dies horribly. But instead of freaking out, I get this intense sense of deja vu.
My heartbeat slows, my heaving lungs calm.
There’s just something about this guy. Maybe it's the fact he has no aura or energy infringing on mine. Maybe it's his cologne, a spicy, earthy blend with a touch of smoke. He’s close enough that my head tilts back, so I can look up at his face.
“I’m leaving,” I say.
He prowls closer. Now I’m surrounded by his spicy, drugging scent. “Don’t you want to know who I am? Why I brought you here?” His voice thickens. “Why there’s such an affinity between us?”
Actually, I do. “Maybe.” I narrow my eyes at him. “But I don’t trust you.”
“That is wise. You don’t know me.”
I’m searching the air around his head, looking for his aura. Even I have an aura–I don’t see it, but I can sense it. It’s typically dark purple.
I’ve relied on auras for so long to tell me about a person. This guy has none. It makes me want to rip the glasses off his face, so I can look into his eyes.
“Have dinner with me,” he challenges softly.
My stomach growls. The sound is so shocking, I slam my hand over my midriff.
The man’s lips compress like he’s suppressing a smile. “My butler sets a wonderful table. You can have anything your heart desires.”
“Will you answer my questions?”
“Everything you wish to know.”
My stomach growls again.
Now there’s no trace of a smile on his face. “Tabitha, I cannot bear to see you hungry, tired or hurt. Allow me to be a good host.”
We’re standing closer now, face to face. His dark shades reflect my curious expression. “Take off your glasses,” I say.
“I do not wish to scare you.” His tone holds regret.
“Just for a moment. I want to see your face.”
Instead of removing the glasses himself, he bows his head. Our breath mingles as I reach up and slide his shades off.
A pair of amber eyes greet me. Familiar amber eyes. Add a few more months of out-of-control growth to his beard and remove the fine suit and...
“It's you.'' I jerk back so hard I would have hit my head against the wooden door if the man's large hand hadn’t cradled it.
“Careful, my treasure.” He shifts his body, pinning mine against the door.
There’s no mistaking him. This is the man from the mountain. The man I met years ago when I was just eighteen and hiking in the mountains of Northern Italy.
It all comes rushing back: the weird earthquake shaking the ground as he came towards me, speaking in his foreign tongue. I had dismissed the experience as a hallucination or a dream. Either I didn’t eat enough that morning, or my biscotti were spiked with ‘shrooms.
But here he is, in the flesh. Solid, real.
Prickles run up my back. “How is this possible?”
He runs his hand down my hair and grips a lock in his fist as if he can’t believe I’m real. “I've been searching for a long time.”
I inhale more of his incense-like scent. “What’s your name?”
“Gabriel.” He lifts the lock of my hair to his face and rubs it across his cheek.
“Gabriel,” I repeat.
For a moment a gold light flares in his eyes. His pupil seems to become more narrow and slitted. I blink, and his eyes are back to normal.
Gabriel looks like he’s going to say more, but a cold restraint settles over his features instead.
“Come now, there's much for you to see.” He steps away and fits the key into the lock, turning it until it clicks. The door swings open to a larger, brighter hallway. A rich red carpet lines the stone. He offers his arm. “Shall we?”
2
Gabriel
Too fast. I’m going too fast.
I don’t want to frighten my bride.
The truth is, I have no practice in this art. The last time I claimed my mate, I simply arranged the union with her parents. I made my case, proved I was worthy, and, essentially, bought her.
Although she has a mother, Tabitha doesn’t seem to be bound by parental oversight. I’ve learned that in this century, women have free will to roam and travel alone, which is how she, as an off-continent dweller, came to pass over the cave where I slept and woke me ten years ago.
Courtship in this century cannot be that different, though. Her body still responds to mine. I can tell by the way she inhales my scent, the curiosity in her lovely jade gaze.
I would have used the wolf pack she ran with to influence her into marriage, to show her shifters are not to be feared, but as they were my adversaries, I couldn’t use that avenue.
Thank fate, I am the sort of creature who enjoys toying with his enemies before he kills them, or I never would have found her on that landmass across the sea. Now, of course, I will not kill the wolf pack. I would never injure those who have given their friendship and cared for my mate.