Chapter 14

14

Leah slid Emma a look as they packed folders for potential sponsors. Her friend had returned from Brazil that morning, hopping a portal as she and Bastian often did. The Brazilian sun had given Emma's skin a glow, or maybe that was just what being in love did. Or all the sex.

Don't think about sex, she told herself in a tone that would've had her dogs quaking. As it was, they'd disappeared to the backyard to take advantage of the April sun. Emma had placed a protective barrier around Leah's property when she'd moved in, so she didn't worry anyone would get in or they'd get out.

Instead, she scratched Sylvie as the cat purred and lay across her lap. Ralph, as usual, kept to the shadows. Even now, she spied two amber eyes gleaming behind the TV cabinet.

It had been a few days since That Night and Leah couldn't think about it without going crazy with questions about what it meant—or how Gabriel Goodnight might kiss. A mystery it seemed she was doomed never to solve.

In any case, she'd devoted herself to the gala as the ultimate distraction. Faced with facts and figures—and even better, Leah's stubbornness—Sonny had had no choice but to say yes to their gala idea. She'd sensed the worry behind his smile, that they'd be worse off after spending their limited funds on this rather than repairs, but he'd agreed to try.

The next steps were simple: arrange meetings with prospective sponsors, go armed with a folder that included ballpark numbers and budgets, as well as basic information about the shelter and some of the residents' profiles. The animals were the real linchpin; the strings Leah wanted to tug weren't just purse ones. And she wasn't above using her family name to sweeten the deal, even if crawling back to her mother's old crowd stung her pride.

But she couldn't concentrate on stuffing packets when the truth of That Night was trembling on the tip of her tongue. She'd never kept a secret from her friends until Gabriel, but she knew they'd react poorly if she brought it up. The tug-of-war was killing her.

"I have to tell you something," she blurted out ten minutes later. But when Emma looked at her in question, her lily-livered ass bailed. "Um... I love your ring."

Emma glanced at the engagement band. "I know."

"It's shiny."

"Yep."

"Emma?"

"Hmm?"

"That wasn't it."

"I figured."

Leah blew out a breath. "I just...wanted to tell you that..." Shit. She faltered again. "Gabriel's involved in this. The campaign. It was his idea." There. Getting closer.

"He came up with the gala?" Emma's tone fell between wary and intrigued.

"I guess he felt bad for us. Sonny. And you know he can't resist showing how superior he is." Leah winced at the unfairness of the statement, adding, "Though I think he actually does want to help."

"Gabriel Goodnight wants to help you."

Leah shrugged. "Me. The shelter. Everyone."

"Uh-huh." The papers slid away from Leah with a wave of Emma's hand. "Leah."

"Yes?"

"Gabriel Goodnight doesn't do helping others."

"How would you know? You haven't socialized with him for eight years."

Emma's mouth opened, closed. "I know his reputation. And what I saw of him when he worked at the bar."

Leah waved that away. "He can be an ass," she agreed, meaning it. "But he's also sweet. Kind of. In his own way."

"Holy mother." Emma gawked at her. "You like him."

Leah shifted, edgy. "It's hard to define. He's not definable. We're not definable."

"You're a ‘we'?" Emma looked pained, like she'd been told she'd have to deal with her bitch of a mother for an hour. "Is this because he's a warlock? Because, honestly, Leah, they're not worth the hassle."

"Says the woman engaged to one."

"After a lot of hassle. And I'm sister to many. I know of what I speak."

Leah grinned fondly. "How is my favorite brother?" She hadn't seen Kole in weeks.

"He'd faint if I told him you were crushing on Gabriel Goodnight," Emma emphasized. "And then he'd storm through a portal so he could tell you to your face all of the things that could go wrong with you crushing on Gabriel Goodnight."

"Why do you keep saying his whole name?"

"Because he's Gabriel Goodnight ."

Unwillingly amused, Leah patted her hand. "Okay. And no, it's not because he's a warlock." She couldn't deny the curiosity, the years of pent-up fantasy. But he could be such a dick. She felt sure that would offset any novelty.

And...Gabriel was more than just "a warlock." Maybe it was his limited powers, but she didn't see that when she looked at him. For the first time, she didn't care that he might be able to answer all her questions about the witch world, and then some. All she thought about was him. The man, not the magic.

"You're not telling me something." Emma's eyes narrowed as she peered at her. "Something's happened."

If there'd been a brown bag around, Leah might have hyperventilated. Shit. Her friend was way too observant. "What would have happened?" Her voice went up an octave.

"I don't know." Emma's brows knit, confused. "He's always dated legacies. I've never seen him stoop to a commoner before."

"Gee, thanks." Leah rolled the word around. "Legacies?"

"Strong magical families, like Bastian and Tia. Each parent sacrifices a small part of their magic to fuel their child. They're coveted." Emma flicked that off as if she hadn't just confirmed Gabriel had been considered an object all his life. No wonder he didn't trust anybody.

"That doesn't matter right now," her friend continued, scowling. "You've got secret eyes. Something's happened and you're going to tell me what."

Leah grazed her bottom lip with her teeth, debating. "Okay," she said, taking a breath to ease the chokehold nerves had on her throat. "Something almost happened."

Emma's face froze.

"Almost." Leah reached out, poked Emma's knee. "Stop overreacting."

It took five seconds for her friend to rearrange her face into something that resembled neutral. "Okay. Tell me. I'm here to listen."

Amusement bullied in, helped pave the way. Still, she had to take another breath. At least she was getting a lot of oxygen. "A few nights ago," Leah began, "I was at his apartment to talk about all this." She gestured at the folders. "We started talking about other stuff, and we were standing by the window, close, and maybe it was the fireplace or the low light or just how green his eyes are—seriously, how unfairly gorgeous are his eyes? But whatever, we were close and we—"

"You kissed ?" Emma shrieked, sounding like her teenage sister.

Her shriek brought forth the hounds, claws skittering over the kitchen floor.

Leah shook her head vigorously as the dogs bolted in. "No. But..." He knows I know about magic , she finished internally . He had to know, he'd seen that she'd seen. And nothing. No witches, no punishment, no High Family. He'd kept it to himself.

Why?

For her? Or because it was practical, because he needed to finish his time at the shelter without disruption?

She couldn't ask her friend that, though. Emma would lose her shit.

So, she ended with another truth. "I think I wanted to."

"Okay." Emma ignored Louie as he clambered onto her knee, Rosie's nose as she pressed against her. "Okay. Okay. Okay," she repeated one final time. "So, you and Gabriel Goodnight almost kissed." She did fine until the end, when the words emerged as a squeak. Then gave up. "You want to kiss Gabriel Goodnight ?"

"It can't be that unbelievable."

"I don't think you realize. He's never approved of bringing humans into our world. He blames them for his parents' deaths."

Something dark flared in the pit of Leah's stomach, a taste surging up her throat. "What?"

Emma laid a hand on Louie's soft fur. "I don't know all the details, but there was some kind of tragedy overseas. His parents were always gone, trialing new medicines and the like. I think I saw them twice my whole childhood."

That's what Leah had picked up from Mrs. Q. She asked the question she hadn't been able to ask with Gabriel sitting next to her. "Did Gabriel and his sister travel with them?"

"No. They used to leave Gabriel with their housekeeper in England, and then when Amelia, his sister, came along, his uncle stepped in to help Gabriel look after her. He'd have been around seventeen, eighteen, I think?" She shook her head, dismissing that.

Leah didn't want to dismiss it. They hadn't taken him with them. He'd been left alone. Always alone.

"Anyway, something happened when they were traveling, and they died. Some kind of raid, or attack? And because they couldn't use magic in front of humans, they got killed. I remember everyone in society was in shock for weeks. Witches aren't immortal, but we're damn well long-lived. That his parents died so young freaked out a lot of people."

"So, humans killed his parents?" Leah struggled with dismay.

"Yes. And he's always held it as a barrier against integrating with humans. Irrational, but that's Gabriel Goodnight."

She didn't know what to say, what to think. Yeah, it was irrational, but emotions were. She wanted to talk to him, to understand. To see if he still felt that way.

Emma was staring at her expectantly, as if Leah would suddenly acknowledge how weird it all was and make the cross sign against him.

Leah let her shoulder lift and fall, helpless. "He's got me, Emma."

"Even though there can't be any future?"

A direct hit. And still, despite that... "Yeah."

"Tia's going to kill us both." Emma's voice was mournful. "I thought you hated him."

"There's a thin line between attraction and hate and apparently that line is a dog leash. He told me he was going to help save my place, Em. He stood there, all dark and unsmiling and told me he was going to help save my place ."

Emma sighed. "I'm surprised you didn't just throw yourself at him."

Truthfully, so was Leah.

Gabriel stared at the dog.

Chuck stared back.

"I'm not throwing that thing," he informed the Labrador. The grotty chewed-up tennis ball had been spat at his feet after Chuck had ignored all Gabriel's attempts at recall and dug up the ball instead.

Chuck's tail swept across the yard, back and forth through the dirt.

Gabriel firmed his jaw and his resolve. "I'd probably get a human disease from touching it."

Brown eyes peered at him, full of love.

"It's not playtime. We're here to work." Not that any training seemed to be getting through Chuck's unbelievably thick brain. "Now I want you to sit here, sit , and I'm going over there." So saying, Gabriel walked a short distance away. When he turned around, Chuck stopped obediently at his feet and spat the ball out again.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it his lot in this city to be surrounded by willful individuals, animal or human?

"You'll find I'm more stubborn than you," he told the dog. "I've had to be." If he was any less stubborn, he wouldn't be on tenterhooks, waiting for his uncle's PA to make a surprise appearance. He'd have thrown in the towel.

Chuck edged forward, plopped his butt on the floor. He pushed his big head under Gabriel's palm. Gabriel stroked the soft fur absently, mind turning to the more immediate problem.

In a word: Leah.

A few days had passed and neither of them had brought up the almost-kiss—that, or the display of magic he knew she'd seen. Now they both knew she knew. That truth was a heavy weight between them whenever they were in the same room. So, like any mature male, he'd made a point to avoid her as much as he could.

What was there to say?

Better that they play pretend, he thought with a grimace. That Leah wasn't a grenade with the pin half-pulled.

Even that wasn't enough to stop the what if s from plaguing him.

What if he hadn't manifested magic?

What if he'd kissed her?

"She's trouble," he said, the words snatched by the breeze.

Chuck snuffled his leg, leaving a trail of slobber on the jeans he'd finally broken down and worn.

He didn't have the heart to chastise the dog. Instead, he conjured a large biscuit, barely registering the feedback as it shocked his blood, and spent a painstaking five minutes convincing Chuck to lie down.

When the dog finally rolled to his back with his legs crooked in the air, the victory Gabriel felt was unmatched. He tossed the biscuit high in the air and watched with amusement as Chuck gained his paws and leaped, teeth snapping.

"We'll get there," Gabriel told him, ridiculously proud, and slapped his thigh. "Come, Chuck. Heel."

He walked into the shelter with the dog glued to his hip. Then Chuck bolted, his body slamming Gabriel's legs so hard he had to slap a hand against the wall for balance.

He winced at the sound of Chuck's enthusiastic barks as he found the cat pens. A multitude of hisses and indignant meows ripped the air and while Gabriel wouldn't say he hurried to catch up, he definitely moved at an accelerated pace.

He conjured a leash with another wince on the run—uh, fast walk—and faced off with Chuck in the cat enclosures. The Labrador shouldn't look giddy but he did, eyes bright with excitement, his whole body wriggling. When he saw Gabriel, he woofed with delight.

"Not playtime," Gabriel said firmly. Desperately. "Come."

He did not. By the time Gabriel had him pinned into a corner, he was sweating.

"It's not done to show so much excitement," he said to Chuck, unable to stop his hand from stroking a reassuring hand down the dog's body as Chuck's head drooped. "Dignity, Chuck."

"I'm not sure he knows that word."

Gabriel froze for only a second before he turned to face his human. Not his, he corrected instantly, as his gaze wandered over Leah's face, the sloped nose, the stubborn chin, the smiling blue eyes. Her curly hair was hidden beneath her beloved cap today. She wore ripped jeans and a pink sweater that was thin and impractical in this weather. He imagined if he said that, she'd roll her eyes.

"He'll learn," he replied.

"When are you going to accept that you can't control everything?"

"Why should I?"

One side of her lips curled. And he found himself wanting to smile back.

He didn't.

"Well—" he said, the awareness tingling across his skin forcing him to retreat.

She interrupted. "Can we talk?"

Instant dread coiled up like a snake. He took one step in retreat before remembering he was a Goodnight. "Talk?"

She nodded.

He began to sweat again. "Uh..."

"Please?"

Gabriel would like to meet the person who could deny Leah when she begged. He conceded with a nod.

She wet her lips, seeming nervous. "Okay, cool. About the other night."

"Yes?" he croaked, alarm and anticipation firing in his veins. Chuck leaned against his legs, nudging his big head in encouragement.

"Leah," Sloane called from the next room. "Mary from the bookshop's here. She said she's giving in to your not-so-subtle hints and wants to have a look at Frenchie."

Considering it was Leah who'd wanted to talk, Gabriel expected her to be irritated by the distraction. Instead, she shrugged as if to say what can you do , before dashing off.

Reprieve? he wondered. But now the subject had been raised, it wasn't going away.

Better to get ahead of it, he decided uneasily, take the familiar by the tail. The bull by the horns, he amended, using the human expression. So, he'd talk to her on his terms.

And be damn careful of what was said.

It was late by the time Gabriel could finally approach Leah again. He did one last walk-through, saving Chuck's kennel for last so he could sneak him one final biscuit, before he returned to reception, where Leah was briefing the night volunteers.

As he walked in, all eyes turned to him.

Gabriel nodded hello but his focus was Leah. "Come. I'll accompany you home."

"What?"

"We'll talk on the way." He'd decided that would be best. They'd be limited in how much they could say, and their conversation could only last for the duration of the journey.

"Um...okay." She peered at him, unusually flustered. Her hand smoothed her sweater. "Are you sure you want to travel across town?"

He merely held out the coat he'd retrieved.

With a small shrug, she slipped her arms into the dark green coat. His hands lingered for a moment on her shoulders as he drew in her scent. Not noticing, Leah waved to the volunteers and then walked with him into the night. "I usually get the L."

His nose wrinkled. "I don't think so."

She tipped her chin up, a spark of laughter he'd sorely missed lighting her expression. "Don't you get tired of being snobby?"

"When one has a natural talent, it should always be employed."

"Uh-huh. C'mon, Gabe. This'll be a good experience for you."

"Leah, I'm not riding in a tin can of strangers. Leah. Leah." With a mutter, he hurried after her. Night had fallen and although the streets were relatively bustling, he didn't trust anyone not to assault her.

Her idea of thanking him for the assistance was making him stand upright in a train car, merrily insisting he hold the pole so he wouldn't go flying and, when he resisted, laughing her head off when he kept smashing into the side. More than his ego was bruised as they exited into a neighborhood nicer than he'd expected.

Small houses lined the street, with yards, rather than the towering apartment blocks he was used to. There were leafy trees, unfurling with the beginnings of green leaves, grass and iron curlicued gates. Someone in their front yard waved to Leah and she waved back without slowing down.

He knew she wanted to talk about the other night, dissect, explore, but as he paced his steps to hers, he shied away from the topic. "You walk alone this way every day?"

"Sometimes." She buried her hands in her pockets. "Sometimes I Uber. Depends on if I'm in the mood to stretch my legs."

"How safe is the neighborhood?"

She flicked a grin at him. "Safe enough. I know how to take care of myself."

He grunted, Laurence's face flashing to mind. Still... "You don't own a car?"

"Had one for a while, but it's pointless when I travel into the center so much." Her sneakers padded over the sidewalk and she let out a breath that curled white into the air. "God, how can it be this cold still?"

Gabriel didn't think; he warmed the air around her with a flick of his fingers and then bit down on the lick of pain. Fuck.

She noticed his grunt, stopped. "Gabriel?"

He motioned her on, setting his teeth against the small ripples that continued to ebb in his system. "It's fine."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"You know I'm as stubborn as you, right?"

"I believe that's why we rode in the tin can of death."

Her smile didn't fully light her eyes. "You'd tell me if you were really in pain."

It was a statement, but he answered her anyway. "Likely not."

"Of course." Now her smile was rueful. "Goodnights don't show weakness?"

"Best way to be."

She made a noncommittal noise and indicated to cross the road. "One day you'll open up to someone."

"Have you?" He watched for traffic as she walked ahead.

"No. But then, like I've said, I have the worst taste in men."

Before he could comment, she gestured to a two-story redbrick house with white trim around the windows and a white arch over the door. "This is me."

"You live here?" He couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.

"You thought I'd live in a small apartment with three dogs and two cats?"

He conceded the point. "You said this was one of your investments."

"Yep. Thanks to this and the bar, I'm moderately comfortable, but I'm not in the land of, oh, say, wearing a designer suit to an animal shelter." She paused on the sidewalk and glanced at him. "Bigger than yours, huh?"

His look was dry. "The apartment, yes. The family manor, no."

"Now, now, don't brag about size. Real men don't do that." She stretched up to pat his cheek.

It wasn't a conscious move but he caught her hand on its descent, loosely clasping it. Soft, she was always so soft, where he felt hardened like weathered stone. His breathing was rough as he studied her hand in his before he let them part ways.

She recovered first. "It's, ah, convenient." As if nothing had happened, except a blush scored her cheeks. "Ogden Park is a short walk away, Halstead station about fifteen minutes, and the dogs have a yard. It's peaceful. I love the city and the noise and the rush, but I like having something calm to come back to." She laughed a little. "Well, until I go through the door and the babies realize I'm home. And there's Peggy."

"You live with her," he remembered.

She nodded. "I couldn't live alone. I'd go stir-crazy, and it's helpful for the dogs when I stay out unexpectedly." She walked up the three steps to the small porch. Turned. "So."

He followed like a charmed object. "So."

Her hands drifted together, rubbing fingertips. "We said we'd talk."

He nodded.

The night pressed in as she clearly fumbled for words. "I don't know what to say," she finally admitted in a low voice. "I...it...what happened, I..." She took a breath. "Do you regret it?"

He could cut this off right now, at the knees, no mercy. He opened his mouth to do just that. It wasn't like he couldn't be brutally honest; it was part of his reputation.

But what emerged was a low, "No."

Something moved in her expression. "Me neither."

Everything in him kept still, breathless, not knowing what to do as electricity crackled between them. He knew what the practical thing, the logical thing to do was.

But that wasn't what he wanted.

He stepped forward.

She startled at the movement, and her back bumped the door. Her hands braced at her sides, flat. Unsteady breaths made her breasts rise and fall. Still she didn't speak. Didn't tell him no.

He laid his hands deliberately on the door, either side of her head. He couldn't touch her. His control dangled on a precarious thread. If he even grazed her, it would snap. And they would both fall into the dark.

"Gabriel?" The whisper had him closing his eyes, relishing the sound of his name on her lips. Her scent was stronger this close and he didn't think, just lowered his head to the crook of her neck to inhale.

A short sound burst from her, but she didn't reach for him, as if she knew not to.

"You drive me mad," he murmured against her skin. The need for her was a drumbeat in his soul. "I see you, hear you, feel you all day, all night, in my dreams. You've bewitched me."

"I-ironic."

As she couldn't see him, he let his mouth curve into a dark smile. "You should be the very last woman I want." He lifted his head, inches from hers. Every nerve was on fire. "And yet, you're the only woman I've ever craved." He closed his eyes again, tried to reach for control. He shouldn't be doing this. "You make it hard to resist."

Her words were quiet but deafening. "Then don't."

And he was done.