The Immortal Highlander

One dark brow arched and he inclined his head. “Yes, Gabrielle.” Scooping up the tadpole in one big hand, gently enough that it gave her pause, he popped out.

While he was gone Gabby scraped the slimy moss from her purse (which she was rather stunned to find still looped over her shoulder), unzipped it, and inspected the contents. For a novel change, she was glad she could afford only cheap purses—the fake leather had proved waterproof. Fishing out her compact, she scrubbed away the remnants of her makeup and plucked algae from her hair, ruefully acknowledging that things were now pretty much as bad as they could get.

She was not only still stuck with Adam Black, but other fairies now knew that she could see them, and some rogue fairy—according to Adam, one of those not to be trusted—had also found her out and in the thick of it all somebody had summoned the Hunters.

She shuddered at the memory. One moment she’d been staring at Adam, trying to figure out why he sounded so tense and urgent, the next, horrific creatures from her worst nightmares had materialized out of thin air behind him.

And they’d had guns, which she found bizarre enough, but even more strangely, they’d been shooting—not at her—but him. What on earth was going on?

Dabbing away a last smudge of mascara, she went still. He’d not been able to see them. All he’d been able to see was her face, and she knew how horrified she must have looked. She’d been incapable of forming a single word; the blood in her veins had turned to ice, freezing her solidly in place. Had it not been for Adam, she’d have stood there squawking silently, helplessly, until the Hunters had done whatever it was Hunters did to Sidhe-seers. She’d tried desperately to say “Hunters” and “guns” but hadn’t been able to spit out a syllable.

And what had he done? The last thing she’d have imagined. He’d lunged forward without hesitation to shield her. Wrapped his powerful body around hers. Knowing that something awful was behind him, he’d not instantly sifted himself to safety. He’d used his mortal, no-longer-invincible body to protect her. He could have simply translated himself elsewhere and abandoned her, which was exactly what she expected from a cold-blooded fairy.

He only did it because now he needs you even more. He has to protect you. You’re his eyes for the enemies he can’t see.

“The tadpole has been returned to its watery home, ka-lyrra.” Adam materialized before her, shaking like a great wet beast, water droplets flying everywhere. He cocked his dark head, absorbing her serious expression. “All will be well, Gabrielle. I won’t let anyone harm you. Not today. Not ever.”

“Because now you need me more than ever,” she said bitterly. “You have to keep me alive.”

He cocked his head and regarded her for a long, measuring moment. “In case you’ve forgotten, I tried to make you leave the moment you told me about the lone Tuatha Dé. I said, to be precise, ‘Walk away from me this instant and don’t look back. As fast and far as you can.’ You chose not to heed me. And I could always find another Sidhe-seer, Gabrielle. I read your books. One of them lists the names of the bloodlines in Ireland that carry the vision. All the bloodlines.”

“It does?” Gabby was horrified. Where? How had she missed it? Why had they ever been written down? Oh, why hadn’t someone burned those pages long ago?

He nodded. “In the first tome, scribed in the ancient tongue. Pages of names. So you see, I don’t need you. I know human ways far better than my enemies. I could easily conceal myself long enough to track another one down.”

“Then, why don’t you?” she asked faintly. And how would she survive if he did?

“I endangered your life. I will fix it.”

Gabby blinked up at him. His voice was tight, his accent more clipped than usual and, were he a normal man, she would have thought he was furious with himself for having placed her in jeopardy.

Oh, for crying out loud, her inner fourteen-year-old snapped, even for a Fae prince he sounds furious with himself for having placed you in jeopardy. Cut him some slack, would you?

She stood, mouth open, a dozen different questions vying for her tongue, but he shook his head.

“Not now. We must go. There will be a place to talk soon enough. This is not it. Come.”

Gabby stood, tucking her purse securely over her shoulder. As she moved to join him, she suddenly noticed that the water trickling down his wet shirt held a reddish tinge.

“Are you hurt?” she exclaimed, reaching for his arm.

He twisted away with a shrug. “It’s nothing—”