He was just about to shimmer when he spied her in the distance, seated upon the decaying steps of the neglected gazebo. She hugged her knees, staring pensively at the slow moving river. Much as he hated to admit it, relief swept over him, and his anger and irritation seeped away. She hadn’t run after all.
She looked up as he approached, maintaining eye contact for only a brief moment before turning her gaze away. She focused on the river once more, as if all the answers to the universe’s questions were streaming by and she didn’t dare glance away again for fear she might miss something important. But she was too late. He’d already caught the fleeting look of panic in her eyes.
She looked…haunted? No, perhaps hunted was a more apt term. Definitely cornered.
He sat beside her, bracing his forearms across his knees. The silence stretched on between them. Without taking his gaze from the muddy brown water, he quietly asked, “Wanna talk about it?”
She jolted and turned to him. “About what?”
He gave her a measured stare. Oh, yeah. That was panic he’d just heard in her voice. A whole lot of panic. “About whatever it is that’s got you so spooked.”
Her lips parted, then pressed shut, only to part once more. She looked like a fish gulping for air.
Whipping her head back to face the river, she croaked, “I’m fine. Nothing to talk about.”
Yeah? And I’ve got a helluva deal on a dirt cheap bridge.
But he held his tongue and let the silence stretch once more.
Eventually, he heaved a sigh. “Aside from going back to your old life and burying your head in denial, what is it you want most?”
She turned to study him now. Was the color in her cheeks just a bit darker? Had her breath just caught? Was she glancing at his mouth?
Or was he just imagining it? Seeing what he wanted, rather than what was really there?
She moistened her lips and cleared her throat. “Honestly?”
He nodded.
“I want—” She paused, drawing a deep breath. “I want to be able to fight. I want to know how to defend myself. I don’t want to have to rely on somebody else to keep me safe. And I don’t want my only defense to be running away and hiding. I don’t want to be helpless anymore,” she added softly.
Gideon regarded her. He wanted to insist that she need not worry. As long as he was alive, he would always keep her safe.
As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he frowned. Number one, she wasn’t his to keep. Not only was she a fiercely independent woman, but she would also be passionate. A woman like her needed a male who could touch her. A male who could stoke her passions and satisfy her in ways that Gideon could only dream about.
And number two, if he stuck to the plan, his life expectancy would be woefully short.
Oblivion, remember?
Standing, he paced away, paced back, paced away once more as he struggled with every instinct inside him screaming to keep her hidden away and safe, as far from danger as possible. And so he would do the only thing he could for her. Give her the only thing he was capable of giving to ensure she would be protected long after he was gone.
There was only one answer.
Turning, he regarded her, feeling as if the weight of the world was sitting on his chest.
“I’m going to make a phone call, and then we’re going to go to your place”—he pointed a warning finger at her—“for no more than one hour. You’re going to pack only what you absolutely need. And then we’re going to come back here.”
He drew a deep breath, praying he wasn’t making the worst mistake of her life. “And when we get back, I’m going to teach you what you need to know to survive. Not how to hide,” he amended, holding up his hand when she made to object. “I will teach you how to fight. I’ll teach you what you need to know about ward stones and guard stones and angels and demons…the truth about angels and demons. And I’ll get Kyanna to teach you the rest. The spells and incantations, and whatever else it is that she can.”
A hint of tears glistened before she blinked them away. His heart lurched inside his tight chest. Her tremulous smile hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.
“But,” he quickly added, his tone ruthless, unbending, “in return, you will stay here at the plantation willingly, for as long as I see fit.” The thought of her continuing to live here after he was gone, safe and protected, gave him comfort in some strange way. “You will promise you won’t try to leave without me for any reason. When we’re training, and especially when we go to your place to get your things—any time we leave the plantation for that matter—you’ll do as you’re told. Exactly as you’re told. No arguments.”
“Yes, I promise,” she chirped. He eyed her with a great deal of suspicion. She beamed back at him, which only made him more wary.