Gabriel's Hope (#1, Rhyn Eternal) (27 page)

Chapter Twelve

No Immortals showed up on her doorstep the first two days after she left the French Alps. Deidre began to relax. She settled into the luxe penthouse and learned her way around the neighborhood. As the third day came to a close, she suspected they – more specifically,
Gabriel –
had really let her go. After the first glass of wine, she was convinced. A second glass led her to think it was all her fault. After the fifth, she was certain she’d dreamt it all up. Or died and gone to hell.

A bottle of wine later, Deidre found herself sobbing on the couch. She didn’t try to test the portals, fearing they wouldn’t work. It was clear he wasn’t coming for her. He’d spent the past three nights in bed with another woman after completely destroying her whole world!

Her wine headache stuck with her throughout the morning on the fourth day. Not even Wynn – who claimed to be her friend – came to find her. She didn’t expect to be so suddenly written off by everyone. Like she was dead.

But she wasn’t yet.

Deidre forced her attention from her own issues and outward as she walked through the street fair in downtown Atlanta. Her sunglasses and hat blocked the sun but not the heat, which fed her pulsing head. She wore one of the dresses past-Deidre bought. It wasn’t something she’d consider any other time, a form-fitting jersey knit with spaghetti straps probably more suited for sleeping than wearing out.

She caught sight of herself in a store window. At least she
looked
good and was comfortable, even though she felt awful. Would someone like Gabriel notice her, if they crossed paths as random strangers at the festival? Her gaze fell to the tall woman in a slip of a dress that walked by her.

No way in hell. She was too short. No wonder she settled for Logan. Not that it mattered, but she’d need five inch heels to catch the gaze of someone as sexy as Gabriel. And maybe, a different body. A bigger smile. Larger breasts. Definitely some advice from someone who understood make-up better and a real hair stylist who could figure out how to un-pink hair.

“Dammit!”

She had to get him out of her mind. He’d made her an offer. She’d refused. He was moving on while depositing her back at the same crossroads where he’d found her last week. How long until he kicked her out of the apartment, the final act of abandonment after disrupting everything in her life?

The tattoo hadn’t faded either, just like her memory of the sweet man who made love to her.

It wasn’t fair.

She wasn’t going to let a serial killer who chose not to kill her derail her day. No, she’d do what she’d always done: grieve then look for the silver lining. She had a beautiful apartment, a wardrobe, a pantry that magically restocked itself every time she left the place.

Calmed by the reminder, she left her spot in front of the window. The only thing she didn’t have was nature. She found herself missing the ocean and the forest near the Immortals.

Chili pepper lights distracted her. Her step slowed as she neared a booth with an assortment of kitchen décor. The sight of something attainable from her bucket list lifted her spirits.

Deidre bought the lights she’d wanted for years. Logan thought them hideous, and Gabriel had laughed. Screw both men; she was getting her chili pepper lights.

They proved to be the turning point in her day. The painkillers she’d taken kicked in soon after, and she bought ice cream. Her mood improved, Deidre returned to her penthouse with newfound resolve to enjoy the last few months of her life.

She spent a grueling hour putting up the string of red lights in the kitchen and stepped back to admire her work. Proud of herself, she sipped from a glass of wine.

“You little bastards aren’t going anywhere,” she told them triumphantly, admiring the shoddy combination of tacks, tape and nails holding the strands in place along the wall. The sight of the lights thrilled her, reminded her she needed to stop moping around and live her life like a glowing chili pepper.

Leaning back against the counter, she laughed out loud at her absurd thought. It felt good to laugh after the events of the past week.

“So you
meant
to do that.”

 “You’re not going to ruin this for me!” Deidre refused to face him and admired her handiwork. “You destroyed my life. Let me enjoy the shattered pieces you left.”

As if sensing Death was in the room, the string of lights fell away from the wall on one side.

“You mean the shattered
peppers
,” Gabriel said drily.

She willed herself not to laugh at his joke, but it was hard. He had her kind of humor. There was something else in his voice she couldn’t quite place. He was normally tense around her, his frustration clear. Though he always sounded quietly confident, the new note in his voice was one of calm self-assurance.

“They’re plastic,” she said in a flat tone. “Like your heart.”

“Not to interrupt this lover’s spat, but I could use a glass of wine.”

At the unfamiliar voice, she faced the two men standing outside her kitchen. She didn’t even notice the stranger; her gaze was arrested by Gabriel. The muscular frame, black gaze, dark clothes all looked the same. But
he
was changed. It was in his relaxed stance, the steadiness of his gaze. She’d always known he was strong. This time, she sensed restrained power of a different kind. Worse, whatever tormented him since they met was no longer an issue. He was comfortable with himself.

The other Gabriel didn’t know what to do about her. This one might. After rejecting then pining for him for a few days, she wasn’t ready for him to be less confused than she was.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

Death smiled so faintly, she barely saw it. He tipped his head towards the man he’d brought with him.

“I made an attempt to teach him to dress,” the night-skinned man in front of her said as she met his gaze. His eyes were the most beautiful blue-purple she’d ever seen.

She liked him immediately. The air felt a little heavier around her as he spoke, compelling her attention to him. Deidre cocked her head to the side.

“You don’t remember me,” he said.

“I don’t know you from Adam,” she retorted.

Gabriel chuckled. “It really isn’t funny.”

“Be of use, Gabriel, and fix my chili peppers,” she ordered then addressed the stranger. “I’ll get you some wine.”

She turned to the wine chiller and pulled out the bottle she opened when she returned home from the street fair. She grabbed a glass, returning to the counter. Gabriel had dumped her wine before starting to replace the lights.

It was hard to ignore him when he was only a few feet away. Overly aware of his presence, Deidre stepped outside the kitchen to the breakfast counter and poured two glasses of wine.

“I’m Andre,” the newcomer said. “Deidre, I presume?”

“Yep. I’m sure I screwed you over in my past life, too.”

“Only to kill me.”

She met his gaze. “Another dead guy. Like Wynn.”

“My father.”

“How is he?” she asked with more eagerness than she intended.

Andre motioned for her to sit on one of the stools at the counter. She did, waiting for his response as he sat.

“He is well enough.”

“Ah. Of course.” She rolled her eyes at the vague response. “What brings you all to my neighborhood?” She found herself watching Gabriel as he stretched upwards to fix the lights. His shirt stretched tightly over his shoulders and across his back while his biceps flexed and the roped muscles of his forearms rippled with his tinkering. His lean torso, narrow hips and the outline of muscular thighs reminded her too well why she wasn’t able to get him out of her mind.

She was overheating just looking at him. Andre ceased talking, and she realized he’d been speaking while she ogled Gabriel.

“Come again?” she asked, sipping her wine.

Andre raised his eyebrow in polite disapproval, the same way his father did.

“Wynn’s not dead, is he?”

“No, dear. You were friends?” Andre had Wynn’s patience and manner, though she sensed more genuine warmth in the man before her than she had during the tenure of her friendship with Wynn.

“
Are
friends, you mean,” she replied. “As far as I know.”

“That’s expensive wine, my friend,” Andre said suddenly.

Deidre twisted to see Gabriel at the wine chiller. He had a bottle in his hand and twisted the cork free with little effort. He gave her the look, the one she knew was meant to remind her of his rules, before he dumped the bottle into the sink. A thrill went through her at the silent dare.

“Perhaps, if you promise him not to drink it except with me, he’ll spare the rest of those precious bottles,” Andre said, gaze on the wine going down the drain. “I’m French. I cannot bear this level of abuse. Would that appease you, Gabriel?”

“She knows not to drink,” was the firm response.

“Judging by the stack of wine bottles near the door, there needs to be a middle ground you can agree on,” Andre advised.

“Middle ground, sweetie,” she repeated with exaggerated innocence. “Some sort of
arrangement
we can both live with.”

Gabriel’s jaw ticked as held her gaze for a long moment. “Very well.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Gabriel?” she asked, surprised.

“I can always say no,” he reminded her.

“So can I.” She turned her back to him.

“I think we have an agreement,” Andre said, smiling. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Gabriel replied.

“I guess,” she said grudgingly. “Now, about this unexpected visit.”

“Without Gabe to distract you this time, perhaps you will listen,” Andre said.

She flushed, grateful Gabriel wasn’t able to see her face.

“My talent lies with the mind. I read, control, manipulate and anything else I need to do to the mind, I can,” Andre started. “I am here simply to assess what is in your brain.”

“You mean the tumor or my thoughts?” she asked.

“The tumor.”

“Tell me why.”

“To see if there’s something I can do in order to prevent the inevitable, of course.”

Gabriel moved into her peripheral, thumbs looped through his belt as he leaned against the counter on the other side of the breakfast bar’s island. Deidre looked at him hard for a moment then shook her head and gripped her wine, padding into the living area. She sat in the oversized armchair, curling her legs beneath her as she drank her wine.

“No,” she said at last.

“No, what?” Gabriel asked in a growl. The edge reappeared.

“You heard me.”

“Deidre, I’m offering my expertise to assist you,” Andre said. His tone was calm. The Immortal sat at the nearest end of the neighboring couch while Gabriel remained standing opposite her on the other side of the ottoman.

“I’m not interested in your help,” she said. “Your father did everything he could. There’s nothing else I’m willing to try.”

Andre’s eyebrows both shot up this time. His brilliant gaze turned to Gabriel, who shook his head. She was missing something again. Another secret. Every time she learned a new one, her life went to shit.

“Then perhaps you’ll agree to let me try for my own edification?” Andre’s words were accompanied by a smile.

The air around her grew heavy again. She felt confused, suddenly unable to recall why this request was objectionable.

“I guess,” she murmured.

“Sit forward.”

She unfolded her legs and sat on the edge of the chair. Andre perched likewise on the sofa and reached out, placing the cool tips of his fingers on her temples.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

Deidre did. The coolness of his touch turned to gentle electric currents that worked their paths through her skull. She shivered at the tingling massage traveling across her scalp and into her brain. His examination didn’t last long, and the sensations faded. She opened her eyes when the light pressure of his fingers left her face.

Andre gazed at her, quiet and thoughtful. His head tilted to the side, and she assessed that he and Gabriel were speaking mentally.

“Happy?” she asked and eased away. She folded her legs beneath her once more on the chair.

Gabriel rubbed the back of his head and paced towards the windows.

“Now you’ll go away, and leave me in peace,” she said.

His eyes flickered to her, his response clear on his face. She sighed and rose.

“Let yourselves out.” Deidre returned to the kitchen and placed her wineglass in the sink.

“I’m working on curing you,” Gabriel said.

“Good luck. If the
Ancient
Immortal surgeon I had for years couldn’t do it with modern science and magic, and Death doesn’t know the answer, then I’m assuming it’s not gonna happen. I want to enjoy the rest of what I have, Gabriel.”

“If there was a way, and I knew it, would you listen to me?” he asked as he approached the kitchen.

“Depends. Are we talking a five percent chance of success or a ninety nine?” she returned. “Because I’ve been through everything in between. It takes a lot to prepare yourself to die, Gabriel, which you of all people should appreciate.”