She was not going to share her body with him again. It had nothing to do with love and everything to do with chemistry and Carpathian heat. She wanted someone who wanted her for herself, not because he had to take her. Not because he had no choice in the matter. Just one time, before she left the world, she would like to be loved. Really loved. For herself.
“Francesca.” That was all he said. Her name. There was an ache in his voice. Velvet seduction. Black magic.
She closed her eyes against unexpected tears. “Don’t, Gabriel. Don’t pretend with me. I am no longer human. I know your thoughts.”
“You were never human, honey. Perhaps on the verge, but not wholly human. You belong in my world. You have done things no other has done and I salute you, but you were made to be the other half of my soul. Do you really think I do not love and honor you for yourself? That I would not know you better than the good doctor or any other human or Carpathian for that matter? I see into your heart and mind. I should have been there all those years, protecting you, caring for you, building a family with you. Punish me, blame me, I deserve it, but do not think you cannot be or will not be loved for yourself.”
He was breaking her heart with the sincerity of his words. She couldn’t touch his mind; if she did, her composure would shatter. She had been through so much—discovering he was alive, their blood exchange, which had taken the sun from her for all time, the earth-shattering experience of making love with him, the terrible ordeal of the two patients in the hospital. Brice. Thompson. All of it.
He moved then. Glided. He was power and coordination combined, so fluid he took her breath away. He moved like an animal, a great wolf stalking silently toward its prey. She closed her eyes as his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck. Exquisitely gentle. Possessive. “I am not trying to take over your life, I only want to share it. I ask for a chance. Only that. A chance. You had not planned to end your life for several years. Share those years with me. Let me try to make up for the wrong I did you.”
“Don’t pity me, Gabriel. I couldn’t stand it if you pitied me. I’ve had a good life, remarkable really, for a woman of our species.” She made a small movement of retreat.
His hand tightened around the nape of her neck. “You are a beautiful woman, Francesca, with many talents. There is nothing to pity. In any case, we need not discuss this matter just now. You have had to face far too many difficult situations lately. The last thing you need is to worry about how a stranger feels about you and what you do or do not owe him.” His hand moved gently over the silken strands of her hair in a small caress. “I know that is what I am to you right now: a stranger. Give me the chance to become your friend.”
The touch of his hand sent a swirling heat spiraling through her. Maybe it was the fact that he realized she needed space and cared enough to give it to her. “I think that might be a good idea,” she replied. Warning bells were shrieking at her. He was entirely too handsome, too courtly. Too everything. What if he managed to steal her heart, after all? She was tired and wanted to go home.
Gabriel suppressed a sudden surge of triumph he was ashamed of feeling. He smiled at her, a flash of white teeth that softened the hard edge of his mouth. “You did not answer me. Are you willing to wager?”
She nodded, desperate to change the subject. “Fine, I’ll make the wager with you, but only because you have never learned about real woman power.” This time when she moved away from him, he allowed her to retreat. Francesca studiously avoided looking at him, concentrating instead on the surface of the lake and her rock. With a quick flick of her wrist she sent the rock skipping across the lake. Ten skips exactly.