Marked by Passion (10 page)

"Saving your ungrateful arse," Rhys Llewellyn answered, sounding just as irked. "There's someone following you. Get in."

I studied him through narrowed eyes. "How do I know this isn't a ploy? You could have set this up. Maybe you're the one following me, hoping to trick me into trusting you."

"Love, I wouldn't have to resort to such drastic measures, and we both know it." His features hard, he pushed open the passenger door. "Now get in the bloody car before something happens."

Because I could feel the person behind me ramp up to make a move, I dove in and slammed the door shut. I heard the lock engage, and the car roared away from the curb and down the street.

Inside, it was warm and smelled secure, like leather and powerful man. I felt myself relax and wondered if that was wise. After all, I'd just willingly stepped into the lion's den. How safe was I really?

"What the hell were you doing out there?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Walking," I replied as flippantly as I could.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "On a deserted street, late at night? I gave you credit for more intelligence than that."

My hackles rose, but instead of rising to his bait, I cast bait of my own. "What exactly are
you
doing here? I find it hard to believe that you happened to conveniently turn up when I needed you."

"You know just as I do that there's no such thing as coincidence. I was headed for the bar and happened to see you."

"So you followed me."

He glanced at me. "Don't get your dander up. I didn't follow so much as tried to catch up to you."

"Right."

"We both know you wouldn't have gotten into my car if you didn't feel safe with me, love."

True. I hunkered in the seat and pouted. He had me there.

We drove in silence for another couple blocks before I realized how close to It's Tops we were. I pointed to the right. "Pull over there. I'll get off at the corner."

Rhys pulled over and, letting the car idle, turned to face me. Somehow his expression was shrouded, as if he were in shadows. Even so, I could clearly see the vibrant blue of his eyes.

The way he stared at me—angry and knowing and possessive—made me uncomfortable. I fought the urge to fidget by getting pissy right back. "So are you going to tell me why you were looking for me or what? I'm late meeting someone."

He was instantly alert, as if he sniffed another male in the picture. "Who?"

"A friend."

His eyes narrowed, and something shifted in the car. He didn't move an inch, but suddenly he crowded me. "What sort of friend?"

I recognized the danger in his voice. A smart woman would deescalate the situation, but no one's ever accused me of being smart. "Just a friend," I said in a way that suggested the opposite.

He grabbed my knee so quickly I barely saw him move. "A man?"

Smiling sweetly, I patted his hand. "Jealous?"

"Insanely," he said through gritted teeth.

His growl startled me—the passion behind the one word plus the fact that he'd admit it. Hell—that he'd feel it, considering we barely knew each other. When I spoke, my words sounded confused and questioning even to myself. "You don't have the right."

"No, I don't." He took my arms and shifted me to face him completely. I could feel his urge to shake me, but his hold, while firm, was tender. "But I find myself wanting the right, despite myself."

"Gee, thanks for making me feel wanted." Scowling, I tried to shrug off his hands.

"Do you want me to want you, Gabrielle?"

I lifted my chin and met his turbulent gaze head-on. "Not at all."

He stared, searching, for several heartbeats. Then the fire in his eyes banked, and the corner of his mouth curled in satisfaction. His hands gentled, his grip becoming a caress. "For someone who's supposed to embody harmony, you are the least harmonious person I've ever met."

I opened my mouth to ask him what that meant when
tu ch’i
flared.

Oh, God—if something happened to Rhys I'd never forgive myself. Closing my eyes, I desperately tried to pull it together, but the more I struggled to keep it in, the more it slipped away.

His fingers caressed my face, and I opened my eyes just as his mouth met with mine. I flinched at the shock his lips caused, and then I gasped at the slow warmth that filled me, head to toe.

"Gabrielle," he whispered, nuzzling my nose with his. I felt his warm breath intimately, and he gazed into my eyes as he brushed his lips against mine for one more delicate kiss.

More.
The sweet kisses didn't satisfy my need. In fact, they only whetted my appetite. So I parted my lips, ready for the real thing.

And Rhys let me go.

Dazed, I blinked as he sat back in his seat, taking all his heat with him. The desire to touch him was so strong, I shoved my hands in my coat pockets.

As if he couldn't resist, either, he reached out and ran a finger along my lower lip. "Love?"

"Hmm?" I couldn't help it—I flicked it with my tongue. I felt his body tense, and my body tightened in response.

When he spoke, his voice was thick and gravelly. "You didn't want to be late."

"Late?"
Jesse.
I completely forgot about him. "Right. I have to go."

Rhys unlocked the door, but he grabbed my hand and stopped me before I could step out. Eyes on mine, he kissed the inside of my wrist. Then he nipped it with his teeth.

Goosebumps broke out up and down my body, and my nipples tightened with the need for the same kind of attention.

He rubbed his thumb over my pulse and smiled darkly. "Remember that when you're talking with your
friend."

The way my nipples ached, I was unlikely to forget it anytime soon. But I wasn't telling him that. Frowning, I started to scoot out.

He didn't let go of my hand. "Take a cab home. I don't want you walking the streets alone. Please," he added when I started to protest.

It was the
please
that got me. By the way it stumbled from his lips, I could tell he wasn't accustomed to using the word. I didn't know what to think, so I just nodded. "Okay."

He released me, and I climbed out. Closing the door, I headed straight to the diner, conscious of him watching the whole time. He didn't drive off until I was safely inside. Which was when I realized how utterly still
tu ch’i
had become. I couldn't even feel it twitching.

Strange. I couldn't help but think I should know what happened and why. The fact that I didn't made me feel all that much more incompetent.

God, I hoped Jesse would convince me to give the scroll to Paul. My brother would be better equipped for this.

I sat in a booth at the rear of the restaurant, my back to the wall and facing the entrance. I chose to think of it as caution rather than paranoia.

The waitress shoved a glass of water in front of me without any acknowledgment and went back to the kitchen to bark at the cook. I took a sip, wishing the scroll came with Jedi mind powers. I could will her to bring me fries and a Coke.

Jesse arrived on time. I tried to smile at him as he slid into the booth, but my mouth felt tight with tension.

He nodded at me and lifted his hand to signal the waitress, who arrived posthaste. Of course. He ordered a Coke and fries for me and coffee for himself. Gross. I wouldn't get coffee in a place like this, but working in a garage made you impervious to bad Java, I guess.

Jesse waited until the waitress scurried away before he spoke. "So what's wrong?"

"Everything."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Okay." I leaned in and lowered my voice. "Let's say you inherited something you didn't want."

"What did I inherit, and why don't I want it?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

His lips quirked. What he didn't know was that I wasn't really joking. "Seems like a dangerous inheritance."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't even know."

The waitress came back to deliver our drinks, taking extra-special care to make eyes at Jesse before she left. At least she wasn't flashing her boobs like Vivian would have.

He lifted his coffee cup to his lips. "So are you going to tell me, or are we going to play guessing games all night?"

Here went nothing. "I inherited this, um, artifact, and my brother offered to take it off my hands."

"What kind of artifact?"

"An old one." I leveled him a
don't ask
look.

"I see." He paused, toying with the rim of his cup. Then he said, "I didn't know you had a brother. I thought you were on your own."

"We haven't been in touch. We'd had a falling-out." Understatement of the year.

"But he wants this thing you inherited."

"He's willing to take it off my hands," I corrected.

"And you want to keep it now."

"Um, no. I'd love nothing more to get rid of it."

Jesse stared at me. I had no idea what he was looking for, but it made me uncomfortable. He'd been trying to see deep inside me like this more and more lately. I wasn't a dummy—I knew I had walls around myself and that he was trying to find the chink that'd make them crumble. He just wasn't the one I wanted to pick at the stone.

Rhys popped into my mind, with his intense eyes and soft, soft lips. He was welcome to try to scale my walls any day. I was suffused with heat all over again, remembering how his mouth had brushed against mine. I wondered what he'd say about all this.

I shook my head. I barely knew him.

Out of the blue Jesse asked, "Did you just inherit this artifact?"

"Yeah." I frowned. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just wondering why you've been acting so strangely. You could have told me."

That I now possessed some weird curse and had a ghost chilling at home? I didn't think so. "Sorry."

"Here are your fries." The waitress smiled coyly as she set the plate and a bottle of ketchup in front of Jesse. His smile was reserved, and when he pushed the fries toward me I felt a childish sense of retribution. I refrained from sticking my tongue out at her, though.

He waited until we were alone to ask, "So what are you asking me?"

Propping my elbow on the table, I leaned my chin on my fist. "What would you do if you were me?"

He shook his head. "I'm not—"

"No," I interrupted. "I'm asking you because you're my friend and I trust you. I know you'll give me an honest opinion."

My emphasis on
friend
wasn't lost on him. I tried to read his eyes as he studied me, but they were dark and inscrutable. Finally he said, "Let me get this straight. You inherited an artifact you don't want, but your brother wants it."

"Yes."

"So where's the problem?"

I pursed my lips. "I was the one who inherited it. If it were meant to be his, wouldn't it have gone to him?"

"Who gave it to you?"

"My father."

He frowned. "I thought your father was dead."

"Um, I may have exaggerated that a bit." I hurried on. "But he's dead now." And I had the ghost to prove it.

"You didn't like your father, so why would you care if he wanted you to have this artifact or not?"

I scrunched my nose. "It's hard to explain."

"Try."

"Well—" My birthmark itched, but I tried to ignore it. I wasn't giving in to it. "This artifact is passed down to one person in every generation, and I'm it. It's tradition. If I give it to Paul, I'm bucking tradition."

"You're an artist. Aren't you supposed to buck tradition?"

"I'm asking you what
you
think."

He grew serious. "I'd give the artifact to your brother."

I frowned. "Really?"

"Yeah." He picked one of my fries and bit it. "You don't want this thing, and your brother does. It's still in your family, and then you're free. Isn't being free your thing?" he asked with a tinge of bitterness.

My frown deepened. "But—"

"There's no but, Gabe. What's the big deal? Just give him the artifact if you don't want it."

I recoiled at the anger in his voice. "Why are you pissy?"

"Because you ask me what I'd do and then argue about it." He pushed his cup aside, dropped a couple bills on the counter, and started to slide out of the booth. "Are we done?"

"Wo." I grabbed his arm to keep him in place. "I came intending to get your advice, but now I feel like this is about us and not the sc—um, artifact."

His hand clamped down on mine where I held him, and he leaned in. "Gabe, what do you want from me?"

I frowned. "I told you I wanted your—"

"Forget this artifact bullshit." His grip tightened, and his eyes narrowed with emotion. Passion? Fury? Toss-up. "What do you really want from me?"

Frustration bit at me, and the ground shifted. I forced myself to relax before I spoke again. "Why are you bringing this up now? All this time—"

"All this time I've been waiting until you felt comfortable enough with me to let me in. To realize that we're more than
friends.
But you keep pushing me away." He shook his head. "What does that say about me that I keep trying despite it all?"

I may not have wanted him the way he wanted me, but I didn't want to lose him or the familiarity of our relationship, either, and it felt like that's where this was going. "I have let you in. I trust you more than I've trusted anyone in years."

"You didn't call me to tell me about your showing," he pointed out flatly. "And this bullshit about an artifact—"

"Is totally true," I said defiantly, even though I knew I hadn't been completely honest with him. Still, my lies were of omission, and I lifted my chin, daring him to say otherwise.

He smiled sadly and stood to go. "If you say so, Gabe."

If I let him go, I had the feeling that he'd be lost to me forever, and that spurred me to panic. Grabbing his hand, I swallowed a huge lump and said, "I'm not good at this."

"I know you aren't, but I don't think honesty is too much to ask for."

"Um." I bit my lip. "How honest are we talking?"

He shook his head, bent down, and dropped a kiss on my cheek. "I'm outta here."

"Wait," I called as he turned to leave.