Wow, Gabby thought, what a far cry from her life. She—who had such a hard time keeping a boyfriend—would have once been fought over by warriors. She wouldn’t have been considered a freak but would have been valued for her curse. Rather than being ridiculed or carted off to a loony bin if someone found out, she would have been respected, born to a family whose fortunes would have been bettered by having her. Born to a mother who would have been proud.
“Even now you continue the tradition,” he said softly.
“What do you mean?”
“The Sidhe-seers were also brehons: lawgivers to their people. Though human law has become a very strange thing indeed, it is what you chose as your life’s work. Blood will tell.”
Gabby was silent a moment, sipping her coffee and looking at him over the rim of it.
He’s getting to you, O’Callaghan, a faint inner voice warned.
No he’s not, she retorted silently. What harm is there in having coffee and talking about history with him? She hadn’t had anybody to talk to about fairy-things since Gram died. Four years was a long time. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it.
This is how he’s seducing you.
Hardly. He hasn’t even tried to kiss me again. She was almost beginning to wonder why not. How long since he’d exploded through her door—two days? Three? Four? Heavens, she was beginning to lose track of time.
But he’s doing it all deliberately, to slip past—
Gabby shook her head sharply, terminating the paranoid voice. Her defenses were fine. Ramrod straight and fully erected. She was in control. Caffeine was beginning to hum through her veins, soothing her nicely. It was cozy to sit tucked in bed and talk. “Tell me more about my ancestors,” she said, reaching for the croissant.
Gabby stood under the shower feeling deliciously relaxed. She’d hit it first this morning and planned to use every last drop of hot water herself. She lathered, exfoliated, and shaved, until her skin felt silky smooth and eminently touchable (not that she was planning to let anyone touch it or anything).
It was Saturday, and though she usually worked a full day on Saturdays, she’d decided not to go in. Not because of him; it had nothing to do with Adam Black. She’d just realized she was long overdue to send a message to her boss. It was time she made it clear that she was not his personal slave and was not going to sacrifice her weekends for him.
Hence the Rollins research wasn’t going to get done. And if he had a problem with that, he could fire her. She knew he wouldn’t. Interns were slave labor, they came cheap. And although she wasn’t as brilliantly persuasive as a fairy that was thousands of years old, she still managed to win a sweet eighty-two percent of the arbitrations she filed. No, he wouldn’t fire her.
A brehon, she thought, lathering shampoo in her hair. Adam had told her much about old Irish law; regaled her with tale after tale about his experiences with, and knowledge of, the ancient Celts. She almost felt as if she’d spent the morning slipped back in another time.
He was, she grudgingly admitted, fascinating. Possessing a dry, often dark sense of humor, he was a veritable font of information about virtually anything and everything.
Perhaps, she mused, eyes narrowing pensively, if she spent more time with him, coaxed him to tell her more about himself, she’d find a weakness she could exploit, a vulnerability she could turn to her advantage.
The more time you spend with him, the more chance you give him to seduce you.
Yeah, well, she really couldn’t see any other options. He’d moved in. The blackest fairy was playing house with her, and she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, unless she could find some way to make him leave.
Keep your friends close, Gabby, Gram had always said, but your enemies closer still.
“So, what did you do that got you into so much trouble with your queen?” Gabby embarked on her new plan without preamble as she entered the kitchen. He was standing at the sink, eating leftovers from the Maisonette.
Adam swallowed the last bite of cold filet mignon and shrugged. Christ, this having to eat five, six, even seven times a day to keep his body running at peak efficiency was absurdly time-consuming. Still, it was pleasurable, the feeling of hunger, and the sating of it. Taste was every bit as heightened in human form as lust was. In fact, all human sensations were more intense than a Tuatha Dé’s. It hardly seemed fair. There were some things about being human that he was going to miss when he was immortal again. “Irrelevant, ka-lyrra,” he evaded.
Of all the things she might have asked, that was the one thing he didn’t want to talk about. Even after all these months, he still wasn’t sure why he’d done what he’d done. He’d known Aoibheal would have to punish him. He’d known this would push her too far. He’d known that defying her, questioning her authority in front of her entire court and the High Council, would force her to call him to account in ways more severe than she’d ever done before.