Edge of Danger (33 page)

 
The protective spell he’d placed on her, the one that had protected her so far, suddenly wasn’t working. Why the hell not? Was the other wizard so powerful that such a strong protective spell was no deterrent?

 
He dismissed MacBain’s theory out of hand. Falling in love was out of the question. He and his brothers had agreed to avoid
that
affliction years ago.

 
“For the foreseeable future,” Gabriel told her tightly, “I don’t want you out of my sight.” His tone was grim and implacable. “Understand?”

 
“Of course I understand,” Eden said in the same tone he was using. “You’re speaking English.”

 
“Because,” he said tightly, as if she’d asked, “the man who was here was sent to kill you.”

 
She shivered. “He almost succeeded.”

 
“He’s not going to get that close again.”

 
He saw in her big brown eyes the fear of rejection. The anticipation of wondering if she reached out for him, if he’d stay where he was, or back away even more. “I’m very happy to hear that,” she told him.

 
Turmoil mixed with the fear in her eyes as she watched him. Then the bravado leaked out of her voice. “I’m sorry you were scared,” she said softly, reaching up to cup his jaw.

 
Gabriel lifted his hand to cover hers, pressing her cool fingers against his face. “I wasn’t
scared,
I was furious…Yeah, okay. Furious
and
terrified.” He closed his eyes, struggling for the first time in his life to put intense, very personal emotions in a place where he could analyze and deal with them in a sane, rational way.

 
The need. The urge. The fucking
urgency
to take her in his arms and hold her tightly. To run his hands over every delectable inch of her body to check for any injury—made him ache. Screw his vow to himself that he wouldn’t touch her again.

 
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and her arms immediately slid around his waist. “I wasn’t the one attacked,” he said roughly against her hair, inhaling her sweet familiar floral fragrance as he held her gently against him.

 
He should be able to protect her. Damn it to hell, he’d believed that he could. Knowing how close he’d been to losing her made all his internal organs cramp, and his heart feel like a small hard rock in his chest.

 
After a few moments he moved her away from him, feeling the loss of her body’s warmth like a rip in his soul.

 
His eyes raked her face and throat. That goddamned son of a bitch had left bruises on her creamy skin. “Show me where it hurts.” Between one breath and the next more undiluted rage flared. This time rage at himself. She’d been seconds from death while he stood right outside the fucking door.

 
Eden tilted her head so he could see her neck better. “I’m not sure I want a man quite so murderous-looking checking my injuries. It wasn’t my fault, you know.”

 
Teeth gritted, Gabriel ran his palm lightly up her throat again, aware of every part of her as he checked the darkening bruises with meticulous care, wishing his touch could make the marks, and the memory of her attack, disappear. He wasn’t that good.

 
There were no cuts and scrapes, no blood—thank God. “Of course it wasn’t. It was mine.” She was close enough for him to taste the terror on her lips, but he resisted the urge.

 
“You thought he was Dixon.”

 
He touched her hair lightly, noticing that his hand shook. He rose to his feet, his gut mirroring the disappointment he saw in her eyes. He wanted to crush her to him and shimmer them back upstairs. He wished like hell he had his brother Caleb’s skill for manipulating time. He’d go back…to when? An hour ago? Yesterday? Before he met Dr. Eden Cahill?

 
Would he have felt complete never having known her? He didn’t think so.

 
“I should have known better.”

 
“I don’t know how.”

 
“You’re still shaking. I’ll get you a drink. Whiskey?”

 
“I don’t want a drink, Gabriel.” Her dark eyes were somber. “I was terrified, but thank God you came in, just in the nick of time. All I want right now is for you to hold me in your arms again. Can you do that?”

 
He shook his head regretfully. Wanting it as badly as Eden did. “Can you get up?”

 
“If I have to.”

 
“I have to take a meeting, and much as I don’t want you here, here is where you have to be.”

 
She sat up on her elbow. “A meeting about Rex?”

 
“No. Something a hell of a lot
worse.
”

 
Eden couldn’t imagine what could be worse than releasing Rex on the world. She huddled under the luxurious lightweight throw and tried to lip-read as Gabriel and Sebastian talked across the room. It was a skill she’d never cultivated. For all she knew they could be speaking Martian, or perhaps wizards had a secret language all their own.

 
Walter Dixon had made a wizard believer out of her.
Big time,
she thought, hand protectively held over her sore throat. As a scientist she knew one didn’t have to see something to know it existed. Whoever,
whatever
had tried to strangle her had not only existed. It had been pure evil.

 
“Well, well, well. And who is
this
tasty morsel?” A man said meditatively, appearing three feet from the sofa where Eden lay. One moment there’d been nothing between herself and the two men quietly talking across the room, and now there was a skinny stick of a guy leering at her. His skin was as tanned and weathered as old leather. He wore skintight, worn blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a pearl-buttoned plaid shirt. He was all of five feet tall, even in his heeled boots, and could’ve been anywhere between thirty and sixty.

 
“Fitzgerald.” Gabriel said by way of greeting. “Pretend she’s a piece of furniture.”

 
Raisin eyes glittered as the man looked down at her. Pushing a straw Stetson off his forehead, he drawled, “A bed?”

 
“Of thorns,” Eden told him sweetly, sitting up.

 
The man laughed. “Oh, doll-face, I surely hope you’re the problem I’ve come to solve.” He held out his hand. “Upton Fitzgerald at your service. How may I be of assist—Shit! Do you
mind
?!” He grumbled as a girl materialized practically in the same spot where he was standing.

 
The young woman sported an astonishing assortment of face piercings, Eden noticed, and seemed unperturbed at landing almost on top of Fitzgerald. She shot him a mild look from beneath spiked black and fuchsia bangs and half a dozen silver rings in each eyebrow. “Need to move your pointed little ass faster, Uppie, baby.”

 
“Lark Orela. You give wizards a bad name, you really do. Please tell me you didn’t come by broom?”

 
“Nah, flew my Dirt Devil,” The young woman gave Eden a curious glance. “Who’s she?”

 
“She,” Eden said mildly, “is Dr. Eden Cahill. A guest of Gabriel’s.” She wasn’t sure if the extremely Goth-looking individual had really flown in on a vacuum cleaner, or if she’d been joking. Nobody was smiling.

 
Lark Orela linked arms with the man she’d almost split in half with her black, spiky, high-heeled—Oh, Lord. She was wearing Jimmy’s latest, greatest fall boots, Eden noticed with a little pang of shoe envy. Not that
she’d
ever wear thigh-high black patent boots with the highest FM heels she’d ever seen, but Eden wouldn’t mind
owning
a pair.

 
Lark gave Eden an intensely curious look over her nose ring. “Is she the prob?”

 
A man, dressed in a well-fitting tuxedo, pleated shirt collar unbuttoned, bow tie dangling loose, materialized beside them. Tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome, he cast a curious glance at Eden, who at this point had both feet on the floor.

 
The room was starting to get crowded. She wondered if she should be worrying about her sanity when people kept appearing out of thin air and she wasn’t even startled, let alone surprised.

 
“Who is she?” Mr. Tux asked with only the mildest of curiosity.

 
“Hey, Simon,” Lark Orela said cheerfully, linking her other arm through his. “Gabriel’s squeeze, apparently. And not the prob—Oh. Hi, Alex.” The girl’s black-rimmed eyes widened appreciatively. So did Eden’s.

 
Another tall, dark hottie. This one dripping water, and wearing—
almost
—a white hotel towel that he was hastily securing about his lean hips. “The least you could have done was let me finish my freaking shower, Edge.”

 
Gabriel glanced at the clock on the mantel, and then back. His eyes met Eden’s on the pass, held, then moved on. As brief as it was, the intensity of his dark blue eyes on her face had been almost palpable, and made her feel as though she were on the receiving end of a visual…lick.
Oh, God. I’m really losing it here.

 
“Said 2030, Stone.”

 
“So you did.” Green eyes checked Eden out. Alex Stone gave her a slow smile, a slow, sexy smile that, forty-eight hours ago, would’ve accelerated her heart. And all Eden thought now was:
Nice abs.

 
His smile widened as if he could read her mind as he said to Gabriel over his shoulder. “Mind if I dress before we get started?”

 
“Not on
my
account,” Lark told him, fluttering mascara-gummed eyelashes at the practically naked man.

 
Or mine, Eden thought with amusement as Lark did something and Alex was suddenly dressed in skintight black leather pants and biker boots looped with silver chains.

 
Glancing down, Alex shook his head. “Lark…”

 
“Spoilsport,” she pouted. “There. Better?”

 
The tight jeans and powder-blue V-necked sweater were only marginally less sexy on him. “As long as I can actually
sit
in these jeans, and we can lose the boots—” The biker boots were now athletic shoes. “Thanks, yeah.”

 
She felt the tug of Gabriel’s gaze resting on her, and turned her head. Their eyes clashed across the vast room. Hot midnight blue eyes seared her like a physical brand. Her breath caught and then disappeared altogether as her blood stirred.

 
With a visible effort, Gabriel tore his gaze away from her and shifted it to Sebastian beside him.