Aleksei was blunt. She needed to hear it. “Go do your job, Dr. Key, and let us do ours. We will notify you if your services are required.” Turning from her, he moved off after Tanis and Jenna, already communicating with his brother about their best plan of action and leaving Gillian openmouthed with Trocar, Kimber and Pavel.
“You heard the gorgeous bloodsucker, Kemo Sabe. We are free agents.” Kimber shoved her toward the guesthouse. “Get going with your patient, and if there’s any fighting to be done, we’ll save you a head to crack.” Kimber took Pavel’s hand and went with him after Aleksei and the others.
“Well, fuck all of you,” Gillian said to no one in particular, then realized that Trocar was still there. After he pointed it out to her. Compellingly.
“All of us? Would it not be more prudent for you to spend your time therapeutically with your patient rather than engaging in casual carnal relations with nearly half of the residents here?” Dear old derisive Trocar. He always knew just how to put the “fun” back in dysfunctional. Asshole Elf.
Gillian shot him a glare that would have melted metal and refused to dignify his witty repartee with an answer, stomping off to Perrin’s temporary digs, angry at all of them, knowing they were right, frustrated beyond belief that she couldn’t slip back into comfortable soldier mode and be the competent protector of her friends. Tears burned for a moment and she crossly blinked them away.
Focus. On. Perrin. He was entitled to her competent therapist self, her undivided attention, and every bit of compassion that she could muster. With effort, she slipped behind the familiar walls that she’d spent years erecting and put on her pleasant, professional therapist face. Anger still simmered with a touch of fear. Oscar shouldn’t have been able to slip through their established net. Bloodsucking bastard. If he’d brought any sort of danger to her friends, Doctrine or no, she’d stake him herself. Right after she got past Aleksei and everyone else who would certainly try to stop her. A slight movement from the porch of the guesthouse caught her eye. Perrin? Outside? Holy shit.
CHAPTER 10
PERRIN had positioned the piano to give him a view of the deep forest outside the guesthouse. The house had windows aplenty, but he kept the shades drawn on most of them, being uncomfortable with the amount of natural light let in. Large paneled windows in the front provided him with an outlook on the shady copse. It was cool and green, inviting. Seeing the Dark Elf walk past made it a surreal moment for him. He was still getting used to Gillian’s daily visits and knew that there were more people on the estate, but he’d never seen any Elf before and Trocar’s dark beauty was enthralling.
He was half looking forward to Gillian’s appointment with him and half dreading it. After her departure the night before, he had researched what she’d said about “S and M” and had been horrified to read that some people found sexual pleasure in pain. That was not going to be even a mild interest of his, he decided. Even though his Victorian sensibilities and inherent cultural characteristics of a Gargoyle were telling him that Gillian required a little strong-handed guidance, he was worried that she might think the light spank of the previous night was anything but a gentle, playful reprimand.
Watching the predatory grace of the Dark Elf, he dared to open the front door and step out on the porch. It was after sunset, the porch wasn’t lit and Perrin was used to melting into the shadows. He watched with interest the exchange between the group assembled some twenty yards away. Gillian. Her attention was completely captivated by the one very tall man. Then the Elf inserted himself between them as if staking a claim.
Perrin felt an uncharacteristic surge of jealousy at his observation and immediately stamped it down. Gillian had exhaustively explained their roles in his therapy, and he understood that she was forbidden any outside contact with him for a year after they ended their therapeutic relationship. He wondered if any of those assembled were her patients or if they had been and now were her lovers. The Elf perhaps? That tall, aristocratic man who even now stepped closer to her, looking down at her with desire plainly on his extraordinarily handsome face? Both of them? That notion twisted his stomach into a knot.
She was the kindest person he had ever known; she laughed openly with him and eased his discomfort. It was part of her job to be understanding and caring, but Perrin wondered, if she had such male bounty to choose from, if she would ever consider someone like himself in the real world. Someone that she already knew to be damaged and hideous. Secretly he hoped that someday he could return to her a whole man, and that she might be accepting of his interest.
Perrin didn’t realize what a dangerous game he was playing with himself. They had not yet completed his therapy and yet he was still holding on to his old truths—truths that spoke of a magical, altruistic, esoteric love between fully dressed and proper people, rather than two naked bodies intertwined, sweating and straining toward the culmination of raw desire. He wanted her to care. She did. But not in the way he hoped.
As Gillian shot a scathing glance at the Elf and headed his way after the rest departed, Perrin’s heart leapt a little. The Elf stood with all his heartrending beauty, and she just walked away, to come to him. He almost slipped back inside but braced himself and waited for her approach. Keyed up, he was more sensitive than normal to the night with all its sights, sounds and smells.
He realized it was the first time he had been near a forest. Beneath the streets of Paris, and even on his estate in Rouen, his world had been austere, delicate gardens, cold stone, cold courtyards and colder water. The scents he was familiar with were herbs, roses, damp rock, musty costumes, mossy passageways, dusty hallways and stale, long-closed-off rooms. Here, the night breeze was cool, gently caressing his left profile, ruffling the black hair as he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the moment. He breathed in the crisp, fresh pine-and-loam scent of the mountains and felt alive.
“Perrin,” Gillian said softly, not wanting to startle him as he stood relaxed on the porch, eyes shut and listening to the night noises.
As if in a dream, he heard her. Opening his eyes, he looked down and saw she waited, one foot on the step of the porch, smiling up at him. “Good evening, Gillian. Please come up.” He moved down the stairs to take her hand and lead her back up again. She smiled at his courtly gesture and squeezed his hand warmly.
“You seem to be enjoying the night, Perrin. Would you like to sit out here or take a walk in the moonlight?”
No teasing in her tone, he noted. She was at her most pleasant tonight. Anyone who knew Gillian knew that if she was being overtly pleasant, it was time to take cover. Perrin was her patient; there was no way she was going to blow a gasket and scare him to death. But she was trying to tread lightly. If he opened up to her too fast tonight with her own emotions on edge, she would have to leave and see him later. Angry meltdowns were an inappropriate therapeutic tool for an oversensitive genius recluse to be subjected to.
Right now she was more interested in focusing on this new development. Perrin was an agoraphobic on top of everything else. Taking even a step outside his comfort zone was courageous and should be rewarded.
“A walk perhaps,” Perrin agreed, not relinquishing his hold on her hand. Glamour bubbled up like a frothy spray, unbidden, unnoticed by him.
Gillian braced herself internally, trying not to flinch as Perrin’s emotive concept of the moment backwashed over them. Happiness, sensuality, confidence and more than a passing interest in how her eyes glowed in the moonlight.
Wait, confidence? Perrin? What had happened to bolster up his self-esteem? she wondered but said aloud, “Then let’s go.”
“You look lovely tonight.” Perrin’s voice was so unique, so mesmerizing that she turned to stare at him. It had a matchless timbre to it: part lilting, musical Sidhe, overlaid with his native French. On any day it was warm and inviting; with his glamour kicked in, it rivaled the vocal styling of the Vampires.
“Thank you, Perrin. So do you.” She meant it. He was immaculately dressed
as always in one of his period shirts with the heavy cloth ruffle parting in a deep V down his chest. Long, perfectly proportioned legs were encased in the tight black pants and tall boots he generally wore. The mask was a dull white by the light of the moon.
Everything was an easy formality for him. The way he held her hand, for instance: very courtly, very proper, her fingers curled lightly in an overhand grasp, over his forefinger into his palm. Only his thumb held her in place; the rest of his fingers were just a warm cushion for her hand. It felt like he was leading her down a grand staircase into a ballroom at a cotillion.
When both of them were off the steps, Gill shifted her hand, lacing her fingers through his. Perrin smiled at her softly as they began walking slowly. “That is very intimate, Gillian.”
“It’s one of the ways couples might hold hands. A little less formal than the way a gentleman from Victorian Paris might hold someone’s hand.”
She smiled up at him, carefully keeping her gaze warm, but squelching down her empathy; shielding, so she could remain in his company while he sorted through his emotions and not inadvertently trigger her own. Unlacing her fingers, she seated her hand firmly in his. “And that is another way. You’re going to be dating eventually. I just want you up on more current methods.”
Shyly he looked at her. “So you have hope for me to overcome my ineptitude in these matters?”
“Perrin, you are a lot of things but inept isn’t one of them. You have been socially isolated, that’s all. I don’t expect you to know subtle nuances when you’ve never been exposed to them. That’s why you’re here. This isn’t about you just learning sexual techniques, it’s about socialization and all of it. You’re romantic enough for three men, we just have to fine-tune that to bring it up into the present day.”
She looked around suddenly. They’d been walking as they talked and had gone farther than she had intended.
“Look, we need to go back or at least back in the direction of the compound. It isn’t safe out here right now.”
Her empathy, even dialed down to be near him, was tingling, giving her a crawly feeling between her shoulder blades. Something was out in the night, not with them but close enough to issue a warning to her overstrained senses. Carefully she reached out with her senses but couldn’t pinpoint a direction or a source. Automatically, her body tightened, preparing to flee or fight.
“What is it?” Perrin tightened his grip on her hand, looking down at her. He could feel her tension crackling against his glamour. Something was wrong and it wasn’t just whatever she was sensing.
Gillian used her free hand to push him a little. “Move, Perrin, back toward the guesthouse.” She wasn’t looking at him, but scanning as best she could. Aleksei could link with her and probably pinpoint . . . No, she would not call Aleksei now. That would be just mortifying.
Gillian Key, former soldier, distracted by Fey glamour, got herself and a patient into a world of shit. Film at eleven. Cringing internally, she reached down to see if she’d remembered at least to put a knife in her boot. Nope. Fuck. And, of course, no gun. She was going to have to get better about remembering her “notes to self” and stop wandering around unarmed.
When he obeyed her but didn’t pick up the pace, she said a little more harshly, “Perrin, we need to hurry. There’s something out here. We’re outside the compound, and I don’t have a weapon on me.”
Adrenaline surged through him at the thought of anything harming her. “Gillian, I may be a social phobic, but I assure you I am quite strong and am capable of defending you. I am part Gargoyle, you remember.”
Goddess, he was so sweet. And a dumbass. He’d have a heart attack if they ran into some of the potential nasties that patrolled the area. Grabbing his hand firmly, she pulled him along, running lightly through the forest.
“Protecting me is not your job. It’s my job to protect you, and right now I’m doing a shitty job of it . . . Hera’s hells!”
Perrin almost ran into her as she stopped short, nearly impaling herself on Finian’s arrow as he stepped out from behind a huge oak tree. The spectacular-looking Sidhe prince swiftly lowered his bow and brought a finger up to his lips.
“Quiet, Kynzare,” he whispered. “Trocar and some of my people hunt the deep dwellers. There is a pack of them about tonight and the Wolves are herding them to us.”
“Terrific, well, my apologies for not helping you, but we have to get . . . What did you call me?”
“Kynzare.” He smiled at her then shifted his gaze back into the darkness. “Now go, we will watch so that none follow.”
Gillian didn’t argue. If the Fey were out, and Trocar was with them, the threat was real and she had to get Perrin inside. Thanking Finian, she continued on with Perrin until the guesthouse was in sight, then she slowed, realizing she was squeezing his hand. “Oops, sorry, I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“You did not,” he said quietly, stepping closer to wrap his right arm around her waist. “Come inside. You are very tense, I can feel you through my glamour.”
Not giving her a chance to argue, he gently pushed her forward toward the porch. There was a little bit of an authoritative edge to his voice. A glance up at him, and she saw his jaw was set in a firm line. Uh-oh. Perrin looked a little put out.
Once inside, he locked the door and drew the heavy draperies across the front windows, then turned to find her pacing the floor, looking small and vulnerable. Something began to rise inside him, something protective and more predatory than he had known. “Sit down, Gillian. I will get you some tea, then we will talk.”
“Perrin, I’m fine.” More pacing.
“The doctor cannot admit that she is in no shape to handle her patient at this moment?” His left eyebrow rose and, with it, the temper he hadn’t known he possessed. A stern edge had crept into his voice.
Gillian glared at him. “Fine. Look, I’ll just go and come back later.” She headed for the door.
Perrin was at her side in two strides, clearly annoyed, and had her by the shoulders. “You will sit down as directed and talk to me about what is bothering you tonight.” He pointed to the couch. “Sit down.”
“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my patient?” Gillian crossed her arms and looked at him, the slightest smile quirking the corner of her mouth. Bossy bastard.
The gray green eyes narrowed a little, joining the elevated eyebrow in giving him a vaguely edgy, dangerous look. “I might ask you the same thing. My doctor is a competent, brave woman, not a temperamental child.”
That stung. “Hey! I am not being temperamental, goddammit! I wasn’t paying attention while we were walking, and because of that, I led us out of the compound area, where it wasn’t safe. I didn’t even have a weapon on me.
“Shit, Perrin, I could have gotten you—hell, both of us—killed. Don’t you get that? There are things out there that are not very nice, don’t have a sense of humor about anyone encroaching on their territory and will eat you whether or not you are still screaming.”
She pulled away from him and went to stand facing the fireplace. “You are trying to take care of me, and I don’t need that. I am here to take care of you. How I feel or don’t feel is inconsequential. How I help you feel is what is important. Don’t confuse our roles, Perrin. I can’t lean on you. It isn’t right.”
Tears burned again and she kept her face turned away, not wanting to inflict her tumultuous emotions on him. She had to get out of there. She was way too torqued up to be around someone who had as little control over his own emotions as he did. He was shifting emotions like gears on a Ferrari and it was playing hell on her nerves.
Silence reigned, then she felt him at her back. Quiet bastard too. Two strong arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her against his chest, his glamour shifting to feelings of loneliness and longing. “You need looking after, Dr. Key.”
“Stop using your glamour on me, dammit! And stop being so autocratic!” Pulling away was pointless. She could have brok
en his hold on her easily, but he was stronger than she was and she would have had to hurt him to do it. Besides, she wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid for him. Letting her anger with herself overwhelm her wasn’t like her. It had to do with his specific magic and she needed to get a handle on it. She should not have come to him tonight.
“I am a vocal music teacher. I am supposed to be strict and authoritarian.”
At this close range, his lovely voice rumbled a little through his chest but she heard the light teasing and relaxed a little in his arms, smiling despite herself. That was the first time he’d really given himself an identity other than her patient since he’d been at the Institute. She allowed herself a little internal “squee” at his progress.
Gently, he turned her to face him, noting with some surprise the iridescent sparkle of tears as she met his eyes with impunity. “Have I inadvertently discovered a chink in your armor?” he asked softly. The edge was out of his voice, but there was something very male and very commanding in his eyes.
“I need to go.”
“No . . . you do not.” The masked face bent toward her and he captured her mouth, one palm cupping her head, the tips of the fingers on his other hand tilting her chin up as he gained entrance between her lips.
Rather surprised at first, Gillian stood passively as he kissed her. Opening under his insistent lips, she was amazed as his tongue began to plunder her mouth. The fingers delicately poised under her chin moved and stroked lightly down her neck to her shoulder. That hand then glided over her collarbone and around to her back, where he pressed her close. Mind whirling, she tried to figure out what the hell was going on as he gathered her closer in his arms, molding their bodies together, the long, thick line of his sex hardening almost instantly against her abdomen.
Why the sudden dominance and aggression? she wondered as she moved her arms around him to hold him tightly. This was weird, but she’d go with it. No, wait, maybe not. Perrin was part Sidhe, a very sensual people, but he was half Gargoyle too. They were also highly sexualized, just very aggressive about it. Gillian at once realized that her inadvertent flirtation with vulnerability had triggered something in his inherent predatory nature.
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