“The Victoria and Albert Museum?”
“You will be on your feet too much, it will take too long, and we will see little of the city.”
She sent him a mulish stare. “The Tube.”
He shuddered. “Never. I dislike cars, but that…I would rather burn in hell.”
“I’ve got it!” She snapped. “The London Eye.”
“The what?”
An hour later, Olivia settled into one of the observation cars of the giant Ferris wheel and watched Marrok sitting stiffly beside her. Amazing to think that, in fifteen hundred years, he’d never given his heart to anyone. What did that say about him? He didn’t seem to fear intimacy, but she was no expert. Was he gun-shy, after Morganna?
The attendant closed the door. The big warrior turned green.
“You’re claustrophobic.”
“I am not.”
“That’s why you’re restraining the urge to claw out of here with your bare hands.”
“Silence. I must focus on not vomiting.”
“Look out the windows. There’s so much open space and air.”
“And one locked door trapping me.”
Olivia sighed. She didn’t want to upset Marrok, just make him see what he was missing by hiding out in the forest. “The view is gorgeous.”
It was. Fall nipped at the last of the summer greenery, giving London an austere face. But some of those flowers remained. A warm wind blew. People laughed. Tourists snapped pictures. She loved being in the middle of it.
The observation wheel took them up, up, up. Slowly. Olivia grabbed Marrok’s hand and squeezed reassuringly. He grabbed on to her like a lifeline, his breathing shallow and fast.
“Look.” She pointed out the window to distract him. “Westminster Bridge.”
He nodded. And gripped her hand tighter.
London spread out before them like a giant maze. The River Thames just north, south London filling the other half of their view. From here, the scope of the city amazed her.
“Wow,” she breathed.
Marrok finally gazed out at the city. “It has grown…beyond belief.”
“There was nothing here when you fought for Arthur?”
“Nothing like this. I am in awe. Though I could not live amongst all these souls.”
“You will never be a modern man.”
“Not if I can help it.”
Olivia laughed and let him clutch her hand. It was crazy. She’d barely met the man twenty-four hours ago and by his own account, he wasn’t into relationships. But somehow in that short time, he’d…filled her up. The bond between them kept growing, strengthening. First like a sturdy rope, then like a heavy-duty chain, now a mammoth steel rod reinforced with seven feet of concrete. The sense of attachment astounded her, like she belonged with him. To him.
Did it work both ways? He seemed in no hurry to let her go. He was immortal, difficult, had an ax to grind with one of her ancestors—and still, he seemed to care. True, he needed her to help break his curse, but it felt as if they shared more. Was she deluding herself? She hoped the feelings were mutual, because she feared she was falling hard and fast.
CHAPTER NINE
THE NIGHT OF BRAM’S GATHERING arrived. Olivia had honored Marrok’s request…sort of. Her dress wasn’t skimpy and black; it was minuscule and siren red, left over from a gallery showing back in her college days. She’d grabbed the flashy garment from her flat when he wasn’t looking, and now couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when she removed her coat. Or discover every wicked thought on his mind once they were alone. That he wanted her so feverishly and often amazed her. Yeah, he’d done without for a long time, but when he touched her, it felt as if she mattered to him.
It was more than sex. He was gruff, not a big talker, but his protective glances and constant touches were like buckets of golden sunshine after years of her mother’s indifference.
He had no idea of the immense gift he’d given her.
But a nagging question persisted: What would happen if they managed to break his curse, he no longer needed her, and this fling ended? He sought death. If he found it…Olivia knew she should be pulling back, protecting her heart. But he was so damned hard to resist.
She shoved the thought aside and flipped a glance over her shoulder. Tucking her hand inside his callused palm, Olivia led Marrok to Bram’s door. He knocked reluctantly.
The man so didn’t want to be here. So why had he come? Marrok wasn’t a people person, and Bram appeared to be one of his least favorite. What was the purpose of this gathering anyway? Every time she’d asked, Marrok muttered something about information and silenced her questions with a kiss…or more.
Olivia flushed just thinking about the delicious way he’d reduced her to moans a mere hour ago. For a man deprived of sexual satisfaction for a millennium and a half, he was making up for lost time fast. She wasn’t getting much sleep. And she wasn’t complaining.
Marrok turned to her. When their stares met, his mouth lifted in a wicked smile. “Your face tells me the thoughts on your mind.”
“Proper party etiquette, of course. Is there an Emily Post of the magical world?”
“Liar.” He leaned closer and whispered, “If you are not very careful, I will enjoy making you suffer later tonight.”
She shivered. That was a promise she knew he could keep.
“Ditto in double for you,” Olivia shot back.
The door opened then into a sleek, contemporary room. Small clusters of people sat about or stood in various corners. The middle of the room was filled with people of all ages dancing to a contemporary but unfamiliar tune. The sounds of children playing upstairs echoed in the high-ceilinged room during the pauses in the music.
As soon as they stepped inside, about forty strangers stopped and turned to stare. When she stripped off her coat, Marrok’s eyes bulged. He swore under his breath.
“You will pay for that dress,” he whispered.
For once, she wasn’t listening. Everyone, young and old, male and female, was staring.
Marrok glowered at the partygoers—big surprise—as he escorted her farther into the chocolate brown and taupe room, brightened by splashes of terra cotta and turquoise. He made his way directly to the bar, ignoring the partygoers’ gapes and gasps.
“Why are they staring?” she whispered.