The Immortal Highlander (6 page)

That was
so
not going to happen.

“What if I don’t?” she asked stiffly, bracing herself for the worst.

It arched a dark brow. “What if you don’t what?”

“What if I don’t help you?”

“Why would you not aid me? Such a small thing I ask of you. Merely to speak to someone.”

“Oh, please. Betray myself to more of your kind and fling myself on Fae mercy? As if
that’s
not an oxymoron. Believe you’d just let a
Sidhe
-seer walk away and live out her life in peace? I’m not that stupid.”

It leaned forward, elbows on its knees, all amusement vanishing from its features, leaving its chiseled visage quietly regal, dignified. “I give you my word, Gabrielle O’Callaghan,” it said softly. “I will protect you.”

“Right. The word of the blackest fairy, the legendary liar, the great deceiver,” she mocked. How dare it offer its word like it might actually mean something?

A muscle leapt in its jaw. “That is not all I have been, Gabrielle. I have been, and am, many things.”

“Oh, of course, silly me, I left out consummate seducer and ravager of innocence.”

Its eyes narrowed. “I have not ravaged yours. Though I smell it on you. And though I could with little effort, as I am twice your size.”

Oh! Surely it couldn’t smell that she was a virgin, could it? A mere technicality, at that. Flushing, she snapped, “And what guarantee do I have that you won’t?”

A dangerous smile sparked an equally dangerous glint in its eyes. “None. In fact, I guarantee you I will. But I’ll grant you this pledge: When I do, it will be because you’re asking it of me. Standing in front of me. Asking me to fuck you.”

Its words slammed into her like a brick wall, almost knocking the breath out of her, as it had meant them to. It had masculine intimidation down to a fine art. She inhaled sharply, preparing to snap back, to deny, to insist it would be a cold day in hell, but it surged up from its chair and stood, towering over her.

“Enough. Do you intend to aid me or not, Gabrielle?”

Gabby swallowed hard, sifting frantically through her meager options. Damn it all, if she helped it, she just
knew
she’d end up taken by the Fae. There was no way they’d let her walk away free. No way. They hadn’t spent thousands of years hunting down and destroying the
Sidhe
-seers, only to let one go now. Especially not one young enough to spawn a whole future line of
Sidhe
-seers.

And what if they decided to take her mother too? What if they refused to believe Jilly truly didn’t possess the vision she’d bequeathed to her daughter? Happily remarried with three stepchildren, her mom would never forgive her! Not that they had the best relationship as things stood, but she had no desire to make things any worse.

And what if, discovering that
she’d
eluded them—that they’d been wrong about the last of the
Sidhe
-seers being wiped out—the Fae began to hunt them again in earnest. Gabby had no doubt that somewhere in the world there were others like her, hiding, keeping their heads down, trying to live normal lives. There were entries in the
Books of the Fae
that made vague reference to other bloodlines similarly cursed, claiming that once there had been many. Gabby wasn’t fool enough to think that only the O’Callaghan women had figured out how to survive. What if her betrayal caused them all to become persecuted anew? If even one other
Sidhe
-seer was ferreted out and captured because of her, she would bear the responsibility for their grim fate.

What a mess she’d made of things!

I give you my word,
it had said,
I will protect you.
But Gabby’d not been raised by Walt Disney, she’d been spoon-fed fairy tales of the darkest kind since birth. She was incapable of trusting it. And even if, by some bizarre chance it actually meant what it said, it couldn’t defend her against the queen. Aoibheal held the throne above all four Houses of Fae royalty, and wielded the greatest power of all. If Aoibheal wanted her, Aoibheal would get her. Period.

She had no choice but to fight and resist until the bitter end.

Bracing herself for its rage, for whatever awful thing it would do to her once she asserted her refusal, she tipped her head back, and back more, to meet its imperious gaze.

“No. I’m not going to help you.” She sucked in a shallow breath and held it anxiously.

It stared down at her an interminable moment, gaze inscrutable, saying nothing, doing nothing.

And she waited, nerves strung like tiny wires being ruthlessly pulled by a puppeteer to near-breaking point.

She braced herself to be hit. She fully expected it to hurt her, to attempt to coerce her with physical violence; perhaps even just short of death, and she prayed she would be strong enough to endure. It
was
a fairy after all. It had no conscience, no soul. She expected it to do whatever it had to do to get its way.

She expected anything but what it did next.

Inclined its head.

Bent to her feet and untied them.

Reached its powerful arms around her, its gold armbands cool against her skin, its silky hair brushing her cheek, its spicy scent enveloping her.

And freed her hands.

As she sat, too confused and afraid to move, it stepped back and rose to its full height, a faint smile playing at its firm, sensual lips.

And vanished.

7

Gabby went to work.

Running on zero sleep and pure nerves, fueled by an icy shower, two Starbucks double-shot espressos, and a need for normalcy, any normalcy.

Maybe her life was falling apart around her ears, but she could pretend it wasn’t.

Besides, despite her exhaustion, she knew she’d never be able to sleep. She was too on edge, too afraid of what it was going to do next, for she had no doubt that it would do
something
. Had she remained at home by herself, she would have driven herself crazy, her overactive imagination conjuring an endless array of hideous fates for herself.

Initially, when it had vanished, she’d considered resorting to her first plan: hopping in her car and running while the running was good. But somehow she just knew, deep in the marrow of her bones, that running wasn’t going to accomplish anything. She wasn’t sure she believed its claim that it had no other Fae powers but the ability to sift place. She certainly wasn’t fool enough to think that, considering she was the only one who could see it, it had truly gone away and intended to leave her alone.

No, it would never have left her alone if it hadn’t been unequivocally certain of its ability to find her again. Which meant running would be a waste of time and energy best conserved for the battle to come. Besides, she’d reasoned, if she was going to stand and fight, she was better equipped to do it on familiar turf. Here at least, they were in her world, and she knew her way around.

Why
hadn’t it hurt her? Why hadn’t it used its immensely superior strength to bully her, to bend her to its will? It could have so easily. She was stymied by its reaction, or rather, its lack of one. It could have done anything it had wanted to do to her as she’d sat there helplessly tied up, but it hadn’t even so much as uttered the slightest villainous threat.

It had vanished. Simply vanished. And it had been smiling. And that made her deeply, deeply uneasy. Like it had something far worse planned for her than mere force.

What could be worse than force?

Like waiting for the other shoe to drop, not knowing when or where it would come.

“O’Callaghan, where in the hell are the Brighton contentions?” her boss, senior partner Jeff Staller, demanded, looming over her tiny desk in her cramped cubicle strewn with files and law books and crumpled wads of legal briefs that just weren’t coming together. “That case was supposed to be filed last week. We’re never going to get a September hearing date now.”

Gabby’s head shot up. Startled, she almost knocked over her fourth espresso of the day. Bleary-eyed, she glanced at the clock. It was two-thirty already. “I’ll have it for you by four o’clock,” she promised.

“You were supposed to have it for me by four o’clock yesterday, but you didn’t bother coming back in to work after lunch. Reason for that?”

She kept her eyes trained on the clock, reluctant to meet his gaze, aware she wasn’t the most convincing liar. “I . . . uh, got sick. I got really sick. I had sushi for lunch.”

“You said you were going to Skyline for chili.”

Damn the man for having a mind like a steel trap. Didn’t he have anything better to do than remember where she’d said she was going to eat? She
had
muttered something about Skyline when she’d passed him on the way out, not wanting him to know she was interviewing around. Knowing he’d work her ten times as hard for it. Unless the firm one was interning for believed them an eventual hire, they were downright brutal with the workload.

“I changed my mind at the last minute,” she said glibly. “I’m sorry I didn’t phone in, but I was so sick I could hardly move. You know how food poisoning is.” She forced herself to tip her face up and meet his glowering gaze, knowing she looked a fright from lack of sleep and stress, and that the dark circles beneath her eyes would reinforce her lie.

“
I’m
lying and deceitful?” a deep, exotically-accented voice purred behind her. “Guess we have something in common, Irish.”

Her head whipped around. So there it was; the other shoe was dropping. Sprawled insolently on the file cabinet behind her was Adam Black, all preternatural insouciance and grace. Gone were the sexy faded jeans. Now it sported snug black leather pants and a black silk shirt, complemented by gold armbands and torque. New,
very
expensive-looking boots, too, she noticed, briefly distracted into wondering where/how it got its clothes. Probably just stole whatever it wanted, cloaked by the
féth fiada,
she thought disparagingly. Figured. Thief.

Still, it was impossible not to notice that he—
it
—looked Old World elegant and simply to-die-for.
Careful, Gabby, could be prophetic.

“We have
nothing
in common,” she hissed.

“What?” Jeff said blankly. “O’Callaghan, what are you talking about?”

Gabby winced, turning back to her boss. He was frowning, his gaze darting between her and the filing cabinet. She cleared her throat. “You and I, I meant,” she blurted hastily. “What I meant was that
you
probably wouldn’t have even gotten sick, but my digestive system is really sensitive, it always has been. The least little thing sets it off, especially raw fish that hasn’t been properly prepared, and I should have known better than to trust sushi from a street vendor, but I was hungry, and it looked good, and, listen, I’m really sorry, but I swear it’ll be on your desk by four.”
Breathe now, Gabby.
She breathed and punctuated it with the brightest smile she could muster, which not only felt more like a grimace but came out rather lopsided as well.

Stony-faced, impressed neither by her explanation nor the way she’d managed to mutilate a smile, he growled, “Too late. I’m due in court in ten minutes and won’t be back in time to log it. It had better be on my desk when I come in in the morning. And the Desny case.
And
the Elliot contentions. Got it?”

“Yes,” Gabby said, gritting her teeth.

As he turned away, she shot a furious look over her shoulder at the fairy on the files. It winked and flashed her a lazy sexy smile.

“And, O’Callaghan . . .”

Gabby’s head swung back around.

“While you’re at it, let’s see what kind of case-precedence you can establish for the Rollins case. On my desk by Monday morning.”

Only when he’d disappeared into his office did Gabby let her shoulders droop and her head fall onto her desk with a soft thud.

“Why do you do this, Irish?” came the velvety purr from behind her. “It’s a glorious day outside. The sun is shining. The world is a vast adventure begging to be had. Yet you sit in this cramped little box and take orders. Why?”

She didn’t even bother raising her head. She was just too tired to be afraid anymore. Fear required energy, and she’d depleted her reserves hours ago. “Because I have to pay the bills. Because not all of us get to be all-powerful. Because this is life.”

“This isn’t life. This is hell.”

Gabby raised her head and opened her mouth to dispute that, then took a good look around. It was Thursday. It would take her the rest of the day to finish up the Brighton arbitration. All of tomorrow to wrap up the Desny and Elliot contentions. And digging up case-precedence for the Rollins trial? Well, she might as well just drag a cot into the office for the weekend. Yes, she thought dismally, life at Little & Staller
was
hell.

“What are you doing here?” she said wearily. “Did you come to torture me? Bully me into compliance? Just get whatever it is over with, okay? Kill me. Put me out of my misery. Or don’t. I have work to do.” She puffed her bangs from her eyes with a sigh, refusing to look at it.

“Brutality is the refuge of the dull of mind,
ka-lyrra
. Only a fool conquers when he might instead seduce.”

“Great. A fairy that reads Voltaire,” she muttered. “Go away.”

“A fairy that knew Voltaire,” it corrected mildly. “And don’t you get it, Gabrielle? I’m a permanent part of your life now. We’ll be doing everything together. I’m
never
going away.”

The other day upon the stair, I saw a man who wasn’t there. He wasn’t there again today; how I wish he’d go away!

The nonsensical rhyme looping madly through her brain was one she’d learned from Gram as a small child. She’d never thought that one day she’d be living it. Trapped in it. Forced to coexist with a being no one else could see but her.

But she was. And afraid that already half her coworkers thought she was nuts. Despite her efforts to ignore Adam Black, on too many occasions the fairy had provoked a response from her, and she’d not missed the funny looks other interns had been casting her way.

Midnight. She was in bed fully clothed, blankets snug to her chin, clenched in tight little fists. Afraid to sleep, for fear she’d wake up and find it in bed with her. Or worse, not wake up in time. At least this way she figured it would have to undress her before it could make good on those heated, erotic glances it had been giving her all day, and surely that would jar her into wakefulness before it got too far.

It had dogged her steps the entire afternoon. Watched everything she did. (Well, almost everything. It’d been civil enough to stay out of the rest room when she’d turned around and bared her teeth at it before slamming the door in its face.) It had taunted, provoked, brushed its big, hard body against hers at every opportunity, and in general lounged about looking like the epically horny fairy it was reputed to be, dark and sinfully, shiver-inducingly sexual. She’d stayed at the office long after everyone else went home, until nine o’clock, trying to get a handle on her caseload, so tired and distracted that everything was taking her ten times as long as it should have.

And she might have stayed later had Adam Black not vanished, only to reappear with a sumptuous dinner pilfered from Jean-Robert at Pigall’s, of all places. Of course it had exquisite taste in food. And why not, when it could steal everything it wanted? She’d like to wear the
féth fiada
herself, long enough for a few hours of madcap penalty-free shoplifting at Saks Fifth Avenue, maybe a mosey up to Tiffany’s.

In silence, the tall, muscular, leather-clad Fae had spread a stolen linen on her desk, arranged her meal of roasted salmon braised with a heavenly-smelling sauce, a decadent cheesy-potato dish, a side of roasted vegetables, crusty bread with honey-butter, and no less than three desserts. It had produced, with a flourish, a single, velvety Stargazer in a tall, shimmering vase and poured wine into a delicate lead-crystal goblet.

“Eat, Gabrielle,” it had said softly, moving to stand behind her, briefly resting its hands on her shoulders. Then one big hand had slipped up, cradling her skull, while the other had begun gently massaging the nape of her neck. For a treacherous moment, she’d nearly melted into the magic of those hands.

Plastering a fierce scowl on her lips, she’d tipped back her head to verbally lambaste it, to tell it precisely where it could stuff its stolen goods, but it had vanished again. She hadn’t seen it since.

She knew now what it planned to do to her, and it was far crueler than force. It was going to be in her life every day, driving her crazy, provoking her, exhausting her. It was going to be, not cruel and brutal, but gentle and teasing and seductive, almost as if it somehow
knew
of her secret obsession with the Fae. And when she was in a weakened state, it would ply its seduction on her, hoping to subvert her to its aim.

No, it wouldn’t use force; she should have seen that coming. Hadn’t the
Book of the Sin Siriche Du
made it clear that the thing lived to seduce and manipulate? She supposed brute force was a thing an immortal, all-powerful fairy wearied of in a mere few centuries. She could just hear it saying,
Too easy, where’s the fun in that?

Force she could deal with: It would make her fight, rage, perhaps even die resisting it. Force would fuel her hatred of it and make her more stubborn.

But seduction from that sexy dark fairy?

She was in a world of trouble, and she knew it.

Sad thing was, it hadn’t even had to look very far for a weakness to exploit. She liked nice things. She was rarely able to have them, what with her meager income barely covering her most essential living expenses and tuition. She was just as much a sucker for good food, pretty flowers, and expensive wine as any other girl. Though she’d berated herself the entire time, she’d nonetheless eaten the fabulous meal after Adam Black had left, knowing she’d never be able to afford Jean-Robert at Pigall’s on her own. After she’d finished the last succulent bite of chocolate-macadamia truffle tart smothered in whipped cream, she’d been so disgusted with herself that she’d given up and packed it in for the night.

And she had a dreadful suspicion that it was only getting warmed up.

The world is a vast adventure begging to be had,
it had said as she’d sat in her gray cubicle surrounded by oodles of other gray cubicles in a gray office building, pushing paper, or rather, being pushed by paper that daily thieved more of her life; she rarely saw the sun anymore because it had yet to rise when she went in to work and had often set by the time she got home.

A vast adventure . . .
Had she ever felt that way, excited by all the possibilities life might hold?

No. She’d always felt compelled, driven to be responsible. To get the best grades. To have a respectable career. To excel at said career. To be kind to small children and old people and animals. To do everything right.
You don’t need to prove anything, Gabby,
Gram had chided her years ago.
You’re perfect just the way you are.

Right. That was why her mom had left. Because she was so perfect. If she’d been any more perfect, Gram might have left too.

With a grunt of exasperation, Gabby punched her pillow and rolled over. Her sweats got twisted, the underwire of her bra dug into her skin, and her shirt rucked up. One sock was annoyingly half-on and half-off, a disgustingly droopy feeling. She never slept in clothes and, despite the open windows and the rhythmic paddling of the ceiling fan, it was hot in her turret bedroom. Sweat was trickling down between her breasts and her hair was clinging damply to her neck.