Once he'd gathered himself enough to go inside, he immediately saw why.
His bed linens were drenched in blood, so much that it might have been from some ritual sacrifice. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. What he did know was that what had once been a simple beige comforter had now been drenched with viscous liquid that had undoubtedly ruined his beloved pillow-top mattress. Gabriel walked slowly to the bedside, noting that the crimson stain was still tacky in places. Not that it made it any more salvageable, unfortunately.
Another flash of red at the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to find the words You 're next smeared across the mirror hanging above his dresser. The letters had been formed painstakingly, and in a sort of flowing script that seemed out of place, considering the medium. Of course, gothic showmanship was everything.
Christ, how he hated vampires.
He heard her come in behind him as he stood surveying the damage, heard her sharp intake of breath when she saw what had been done. Still, Gabriel wasn't quite ready to look at her. The part of him that was all killer was far too close to the surface. A normal reaction, he supposed, considering his bedroom now looked like the gateway to one of the outer rings of hell.
"Any more doubts," he growled after several more minutes of silence, "now that a certain type of creature I won't mention right now has taken a sudden interest in sacrificing goats on my bed?" The simmering cauldron of emotion that seemed to be constantly on a low boil these days rose up, threatening to spill over. He hoped she wouldn't.
But he knew she would.
She hesitated, and then muttered something unintelligible. Well, mostly unintelligible. He heard just enough to get the ball rolling.
"What was that?" he snapped. Her sharp tongue was one thing when all that was at stake was his pride. It was quite another when it was their well-being on the line.
"I said," she replied peevishly, though at a satisfactory volume, "it's cow blood."
Gabriel turned slowly to look at her, nastily pleased when Rowan took a step back once she caught sight of the look on his face. "Oh, I don't think that was all you said, was it? The last word sounded a lot like moron, in f act."
Rowan glowered and crossed her arms over her chest. "I suppose it ... might have been something like that. And aren't you supposed to have an acute sense of smell like mine?"
"Certain scents never held enough interest for me to learn about. I don't tend to snack on livestock. Which is beside the point." He advanced on her, slowly, deliberately, enjoying the way her eyes narrowed to slits of glowing green at his approach as she dug in for battle. She wasn't the only creature with strength to be reckoned with, and it was time she understood that.
"You didn't answer my question. Do you still think I was hallucinating last night?"
She shrugged, a casual lift of the shoulders that incensed him more than any words could.
"All right, then. Why would they pick that particular love note to leave on my mirror?" he continued, his voice deepening until it was little more than a guttural growl. "Why threaten me now, when it's been years since I've even laid eyes on one?"
"Maybe you did something to make them angry," she offered lamely, prompting him to cut her off immediately.
"For your information, I've had exactly one dealing with our small Scottish nest of neck-biters, who, by the way, live all the way in Edinburgh, and the outcome of that little encounter has had them leaving me in peace ever since. A bit odd, don't you think, that they decide to redecorate for me shortly before I bring my esteemed guest back here?"
"Not really."
He'd reached her now, and he had to give the woman credit. Not only was she standing her ground, there were actual sparks beginning to flare around her head, flashing through her hair in bright bursts as though each strand carried its own electric current. Hell, maybe they did. But all the stress of the past two days, traceable to the exact moment Rowan had been shoved into his arms, had finally reached its breaking point. Truth be told, he was spoiling for a fight with someone. He would be thankful Rowan seemed so willing to accommodate him if he didn't currently want to destroy her.
She didn't even flinch when he leaned in, inches from her face, and snarled, "Just admit I was right. Damn it, after the constant stream of insults, you can at least admit I knew what the hell I was talking about here."
He seriously considered throttling her when she looked directly back at him.
And tried to change the subject.
"Whatever they were doing, it obviously isn't safe here. We'd be better off back at Iargail," she said, chin lilting up defiantly.
"The hell it isn't," Gabriel snapped. "Or the cowards would have waited until I got back. Now that I am, they'll stay away or find a skewer through their hearts. We stay here."
Rowan tossed her head in the way Gabriel was noticing either turned him on to the point of insanity or made him start thinking about ways to annihilate her. Unfortunately, this time it was the less pleasant of the two reactions.
"A skewer? You think you're going to keep me safe with kitchen utensils?" she hissed. "Yes, I'm sure that'll work. You'll just have to excuse me if I lock myself in this room while you save the day with ironclad cook-ware. I seem to recall, in fact, that vampires are terrified of chafing dishes. Happen to have one of those?"
Her fangs had lengthened in her fit of temper, her eyes turned to burning embers. Gabriel bared his own teeth, allowing a fair portion of the Wolf within to show. Two could play at this game.
"Actually, what I do have is a stubborn, mouthy Drakkyn who seems to think that pushing away those trying to help her is somehow going to fix everything. I know you think that you can fight better on your own, Rowan an Morgaine, for some stupid reason or other. But this damned refusal to accept help could very well get us all killed!"
He could feel the temperature in the room rising as he told her what he thought. It was high time the two of them started working together, instead of this ridiculous push-pull that was getting them nowhere. It might not be the situation he'd envisioned, but because he wanted her, he wanted to help her. She was his, just as he was hers. And she was going to accept it no matter how much fur she singed off of him in the meantime.
"Like I got my own family killed, you mean?" she snarled, her eyes flashing dangerously. And this, he could see, was truly the heart of the matter for her. "That is what you mean, isn't it? That unless I let you and your hulking band of shifters do everything for me, I'll probably just do something stupid and cause another bloodbath?"
"I think the only stupid thing is that you keep blaming yourself for that! I've dealt with the bastards, remember? Who the hell could blame you for saying no to marrying one? And I don't want to do everything for you!"
She waved a hand in front of her face, a sharp and dismissive gesture that told him she didn't want to hear anything he was saying. He growled and clenched his fists, utterly frustrated. She growled right back.
"Oh, really? You could have fooled me, Mr. Let's-Run-Off-To-Tobermory-Because-I-Said-So. Mr. Bite-Me-I-Insist. Mr. Save-The-Day-At-All-Costs ..."
"You were starving to death! Your brother wanted me to keep you safe! He ..."
"What about what I want?" she cried, digging her fingers into her hair, caught in helpless fury. "Do you have a single idea what I want? Have you asked? Damn it, Gabriel, I'm not some weak-willed female who needs looking after! I had a home once, a tribe that I was born to lead! The blood of a Goddess runs in my veins, and yet no one, not even my own brother, has bothered in all these months to really consider what I want. Did I want to take my clothes off for hordes of pathetic human men? Did I want to depend on the mercy of some foul creatures that were abominable mirror images of my own? Did I want to be desired my a madman, forced from my home, then abandoned and again left at the mercy of creatures as foreign to me as I am to you? What do you think, Gabriel?"
Gabriel stared at her, utterly nonplussed. Her rant had left him momentarily speechless, his reactions to her words too muddled to piece through right this second. So he clung to the one thing he had clear sight of, which was his anger. Though he had a nagging and unpleasant feeling that he was going to regret it later.
"I think you need to tell me what the hell is really going on in that head of yours. Why you have so little faith in me, in my people, that you're determined to throw yourself at Lucien Andrakkar. And by the way, I thought that one of the things you did want was me. Or was I just another worshipper to you? Another one of those sniveling, starstruck idiots who came crawling to you to offer you their blood, their lust, anything you saw fit to take?"
"Don't," she said, her voice going deadly, dangerously soft. "Don't you dare malign what you don't understand. Especially when I've seen some of your own past, full of empty-headed females and your own lovely habit of running away as soon as you've gotten what you were after. At least I'm honest about what I am, Gabriel. So don't pretend that having me meant something to you, and be honest with yourself for once. You only want me because you can't have me."
She was right. And so completely, horrendously wrong. She had seen what he had been, yes, but she refused to acknowledge that he could be more to her. That he was more than his failings, though she expected that courtesy from him. And still, he burned for her in that way he knew he never would for anyone else, the longing to have her acceptance ... her love ... making him nearly sick. He had shared that sacred bite with her, had given her all of himself. There should be no further barriers between them, and yet it seemed that as soon as one was knocked down, another one arose.
In desperation, he heard himself saying the words he had promised himself he would save for a better time, a perfect moment. The day she confessed she wanted him as her own. Her only.
A day he wasn't truly certain would ever come.
"You want honest? Then hear me now, Rowan," he said, his voice ragged. "I will never leave you alone. I will deal with your lack of trust, and your mouth, and your myriad of irritating habits. Because when my kind find our mates, we know. And we never have another."
