"Sounds about right."
"And that you hate me pretty bad," she added. She was afraid to ask if it was true what they'd said about him always loving her despite what past-Deidre did.
"Hate is a strong word," he said.
"You have a good reason to use it."
"I don't hate you, Deidre."
"You don't hate me, and I'm dying soon," she said ruefully. "Well then, we're on our way to happiness ever after."
"It's definitely complicated."
Deidre laughed despite herself. His dark, dry humor left her entertained - and baffled. He was studying her.
"Thank you for not killing Wynn. Though in hindsight, I have no idea if that was good or not," she said. "Did you know?"
"When I left you last night, I went to see him. Figured it was no coincidence that a mysterious man named after a dead-dead Immortal just happened to fall into the life of a former deity," Gabriel replied.
"He's helped me through a lot over the past few years."
"He's dangerous, Deidre."
"You aren't?"
"Not to you."
"You kill people for a living and only get one mate for eternity that just happens to be someone who screwed you over for thousands of years who you can say with a straight face that at least you don't hate her," she summarized, aware of the hysteria creeping into her voice. "But you're not a threat."
Gabriel chuckled. "You want to know why I came by tonight?"
"Oh, god. Dare I ask?"
"You remember the two rules I gave you?"
"Yeah."
"And the choice?"
"Yeah."
"You're not walking away from me anymore than I will from you," he said firmly.
"Katie said you'd figure that out," Deidre murmured. "You really want to spend eternity with someone you resent?"
"It doesn't matter how I feel. You're my mate. I'm obligated by divine law to protect you."
No reassurance he'd be able to get past their history, no expression of wanting to be with her. She wasn't sure why she expected either from him, except that she still held half a hope that she might live beyond three months. She wasn't spending an eternity miserable.
"That's not good enough for me," she heard herself saying.
"It will have to be," he replied. "I won't make the mistake I made with you before."
She met his gaze, dreading his words.
"I'll never let myself feel anything for you," he said.
How did a proclamation from a virtual stranger hurt her more than anything anyone else had ever said? If he spoke with anger or frustration or anything other than the quiet, impassioned tone, she would've been able to handle the news better.