Deidre's Death

"You always smell good," she murmured, pulling away.

Her eyes traveled with intent interest over his face and followed the trail of her fingers down his neck. She rested her hands on his chest, but they didn't stay, instead running over the muscles of his chest and around to his back.

"You're so strong, Gabriel," she said in awe. "Have you always been like this?"

He chuckled. Sometimes, he thought there was none of the human left at all, just an incarnated goddess whose fascination with her new world extended to him. He loved that she was curious about his body. His one-night stand last week made him appreciate what it was to have a lover who was as infatuated by his body as he was hers. It was another part that remained of the girl he fell for last week.

He kissed her again. Her fingers ran through his short hair. She didn't move away or object when he allowed his palms to skim her curves, tracing down her sides to her hips then around to her tight bottom. He squeezed lightly then circled his arms around her, pulling her into his body. She yielded, fitting against him in a way that made him more possessive of her petite frame and fiery spirit.

Forced into hiding by the circumstances of the past two weeks, Gabriel's yearning for his mate emerged stronger than ever at her passionate kisses and touch.

"Deidre," he whispered, fluttering kisses down the side of her neck.

She groaned.

"Are we ready for this?" He paused and brushed wet hair from her face with one hand, scouring her features.

Gabriel felt a thaw deep within him, one fed by the hope that arguing over her sweaters was the worst they'd face from here on out. The worst case scenario - that she died of a tumor - was no longer possible. He had his mate in his arms. She loved him, wanted to help him.

Maybe Rhyn was right. Gabriel had to let the past go. The changes in his mate were new enough to startle him sometimes, but she was without a doubt his mate. Even his lingering doubt about the real cost of her deals with Darkyn didn't extend to the question of whether or not he was meant to be with the woman in his arms.

"I've waited my entire life for this," she said.

His resolve lasted until she spoke, and he saw the truth of her words and the expression on her face. The emotion she'd admitted to yesterday - which Andre had told him as well - shimmered in her large blue eyes. She meant it when she said she loved him. Why, then, was he hesitating to claim the woman who clearly wanted to be by his side?