On the way back to Dageus and Drustan’s castle, while Chloe and Gwen had been talking about the queen again, Adam had insisted Gabby convey his irritation with them for leaving by the front door and circling straight around to the rear entrance of the castle to sneak back in.
I told you we expected you to have our backs if the need arose, Drustan had reminded him through her. I also told you that we would be having yours.
And when Gabby’d passed on those words, she’d glimpsed a flicker of emotion in Adam’s dark gaze that had made the breath catch softly in her throat.
How could she have ever thought that Adam Black felt no emotion? Even the queen had displayed emotion. That was a fallacy in the O’Callaghan Books she’d be swiftly amending. Along with about a zillion others.
Still, she could understand how her ancestors had gotten it so wrong. If she’d had to go on the mere appearance of Queen Aoibheal, or of the Hunters, or even of Adam, without ever having interacted with them, without having come to understand so much about their world, she’d have thought the same things.
But she knew so much better now.
She’d spent another scorching, delicious, decadent night in Adam’s arms.
He was the kind of lover she’d never imagined existed, not even in her most heated fantasies. And she’d had some pretty darned heated ones.
He was inexhaustible, alternately tender and wild, playful, then staring into her eyes with deadly intensity. He made a woman feel as if nothing existed but her, as if the entire world had melted away and there was nothing more pressing than her next soft gasp, her next smile, their next kiss.
He’d still spoken no words of either feelings or future. Nor had she.
Though the queen herself had guaranteed Gabby’s safety when this was through, she was having a hard time seeing past their date with Darroc. She knew she’d not be able to truly draw a deep breath until it was over.
Then she would face her future.
Then she would try to decide—assuming she had any decision to make, that he didn’t simply abandon her once he was all-powerful again—how in the world a mortal and an immortal could have any kind of life together.
“Promise you’ll come back. I mean it, and soon,” Gwen demanded, hugging her tightly. “And you have to call us and let us know the minute Darroc shows up and this is over. We’re going to be worrying. Promise?”
Gabby nodded. “I promise.”
“And bring Adam back too,” Gwen said.
Gabby glanced at her tall, dark prince. The day had dawned swathed in a thick white fog, and though it was already ten in the morning, none of it had burned off. And how could it? If there was a sun anywhere in the sky, she certainly couldn’t see it. Above her, the world had a solid white ceiling. Beyond Adam, who stood a dozen feet away, near the rental car they’d arrived in, was a white wall.
Adam. Her gaze lingered lovingly on him. He was wearing black leather pants, a cream Irish fisherman’s sweater, and those sexy Gucci boots with silver chains and buckles. His long, silky, black hair spilled to his waist, and his chiseled face was unshaven, dusted with a shadow-beard. Regal gold glinted at his throat.
He was heart-stoppingly beautiful.
She glanced back at Gwen and was horrified to feel a sharp sting of tears pressing at her eyes. “If he’s still in my life, I will,” she said softly.
Gwen snorted and she and Chloe exchanged glances. “Oh, we think he’ll still be in your life, Gabby.”
Her meticulously erected defenses on that very topic trembled at the foundation. She stiffened mentally, knowing that if she wasn’t very, very careful, she could turn into an emotional basket case. If she let herself feel even the tiniest of the many fears she was suppressing, they would all break free. And there was no telling what she might do or say: The Banana Incident, case in point. Emotion did unpredictable things to her tongue. Bad, bad things.
Despite her resolve to keep her fears at bay, she heard herself say plaintively, “But how? For heaven’s sake, he’s going to be immor—”
“Don’t,” Chloe cut her off sternly. “I’m going to share something with you,” she said with a glance at Gwen, “that a wise woman once told me. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. Just do it. Don’t look down.”
“Great,” Gabby muttered. “That’s just great. It sure seems like I’m the one having to do all the leaping.”
“Somehow,” Gwen said slowly, “I think before all is said and done, Gabby, you won’t be the only one doing it.”