"Deidre, will you do it?" he asked again.
"One percent is a death sentence," she replied.
"I won't let you go through it, if I don't think it'll work. What would it take for you to trust me enough to take a chance?"
She was pensive again. Gabriel suspected there was nothing on the planet that might make her interested in an option that currently stood at failure rate of ninety nine percent. But he waited for her response.
"If I did, and if it worked …" she started, paused, then continued. "Gabriel, what would eternity be like? I mean for us."
He was silent, uncertain how to answer.
"I don't know how you offer me nothing one minute then let me decide the next," she added, frustrated. "Meanwhile, I'm dying and my world keeps crashing. Tell me something. Please. Give me some reason why one percent and an eternity with you beats out the alternative. Convince me you aren't telling me we can have a real relationship just so I go through with this procedure you want to try."
He heard the edge of desperation in her voice. As with the underworld, he'd tried to act in a way he thought was best since meeting her. Wynn's information - pleasure kills - was still an issue. Meanwhile, Wynn's level of Ancient magic made him almost untraceable. He was able to bypass Gabriel's death-dealers too easily during his frequent trips to the lake. If he chose to disappear, the plan wasn't going to work. If Tamer didn't find the tidbit of history from the time-before-time about forced soul extraction, the plan was never going to have more than a five percent chance of working, even with Wynn.
Gabriel didn't have time, and Wynn's assessment that Deidre was starting to deteriorate made Gabriel afraid to give her more than he already had this night. He'd come close to saying too much since arriving at the beach. At the sound of her despair, he wanted nothing more than to reassure her that she was everything he needed - everything he wanted - in the mate he planned to spend eternity with. Beautiful, brave, funny, sweet. The gods couldn't have molded a more perfect woman.
They had a journey to make together before they were in a functional relationship, but they'd never have that chance, if he didn't find a way to buy them all time.
He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk her. He'd been trying to walk that fine line all night. He was left feeling dirty, like he was leading her on with enough encouragement to keep her from taking matters into her own hands but not so much that her tumor grew.