Gabriel

Sam's been mumbling in her sleep or snoring softly for over an hour, and now she's drooling on my arm. Let the teasing begin.

A vampire holds her heart, and I believe he would sacrifice the world to protect her—maybe Adam's only redeeming quality. Raised in the shadow of the Nephilim, I was only shown the biased belief that vampires are monstrous killers who consider humans beneath them.

It's impossible to get to know someone when you're trying to kill them. My views of life, right and wrong, have been challenged lately.

Turning a page of the research paper on my lap, I try again to focus on the document but find my mind wandering. Something about the dim lighting and the steady hum of a plane's engine that makes you want to sleep or drink. As if reading my mind, a female flight attendant comes quietly down the aisle collecting trash from those who aren't sleeping.

Without looking at her, I hand her my cup but notice when her hand lingers over my fingers. Now, I look up.

Brandy, as her name tag reveals, smiles seductively as she leans down to whisper in my ear, offering me a glorious view of her round cleavage, as she does.

"Is there anything else that I can do for you? Something that I can offer you in the galley, perhaps?" She pulls back to look down at me. I clear my throat and loosen my collar.

"As lovely as that sounds, I must respectfully decline." I nod my head at Samantha, resting on my arm. The stewardess shrugs her shoulders but hands me a napkin, before silently continuing down the aisle. Scribbled in a tidy hand, is a phone number. That was one of the best offers I've had since I took a sabbatical from the university.

I tuck it into my jacket pocket, knowing that I have no intention of ever calling Brandy. Still, the movie of what might have happened is already playing in my head.

Seeing what Sam and Adam have found, has made me acutely aware that I'm lonely.

***

Samantha

To my horror, I wake to find myself drooling on Gabe. He gives me an amused grin. Embarrassed, I straighten and quickly wipe my mouth on my sleeve.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he teases.

"Sorry." Smiling sheepishly, I glance out of the tiny window of the Boeing-777. My reflection, mirrored in the darkness stares back at me. Waking from a deep sleep, only to remember that I'm thousands of feet above a massive body of water is disconcerting, to say the least.

It's not that I'm scared to fly, but I'd admit that I'm cautiously concerned. It's not a phobia. Trying, to not think about how vast the Atlantic Ocean is, I note the time on my watch is 5:43 in the morning. We're scheduled to arrive in London at 11:35. We still have plenty of time to kill, but I'm ready to go stir crazy with so many hours of confinement.

"How long did I sleep?" I pull a small mirror from my bag to make certain that I don't have raccoon eyes.

"Just under three hours. You started snoring after the first hour, but only drooled on me the last half hour," Gabe adds. Looking at the spot on his jacket I can't even argue.

"I don't snore," I say defensively.

"Yes, you do. It's sort of cute." Gabe chuckles to himself.

I've never flown internationally. Fortunately, Gabe has plenty of experience with jet-setting all over the world. He's encouraged me to drink ridiculous amounts of water and move about the cabin often. There's no need to worry about moving. After pounding all that water, I've been making multiple trips to the claustrophobia-inducing restroom.

After watching two movies in a row, the dim lighting, boredom, and the constant vibration of the plane caused me to crash hard.

Gabe puts his papers away—most likely archeological research work. Earlier, Gabe teased me about my paranormal romance novel, peaking out of my bag. He points to it now. "If you like the paranormal, I'm your guy. What would you like to know? You won't find answers in fantasy novels. I doubt they get any of the details correct."

Most of the time I could forget Gabriel is a college professor until he makes comments like that. Sometimes, I think Gabe needs to let his hair down a bit.

"I enjoy fantasy novels, thank you very much. They weren't my book of choice until after I met you and Adam. I'd still like you to teach me what you know about the paranormal gene-pool," I say, too loudly.

Gabe flashes a disarming smile at the gray-haired lady sitting across the aisle from us. "I'm writing a paper on mythical creatures," he says. She smiles and nods her understanding before turning back to her own book.

He turns back to me and winks. "Certainly, we can discuss my 'research' paper."

I could fill a library with what I don't know. Just because I'm engaged to a vampire, doesn't mean I'm an expert. This is all new territory to me. "Do tell, Professor Devereaux."

Adjusting myself in the seat, I give him my full attention.

"What would you like to know?" Gabe asks.

He removes his glasses and begins to clean them before tucking them into the pocket of his blazer. He's attractive with glasses—without them, he's nothing short of gorgeous. I've sometimes wondered if Gabe and I would be together if I'd never met Adam.

"I know that your angelic bloodline gives you increased strength, speed and a longer, but still mortal life. So... how long do your family typically live compared to an ordinary human lifespan?"

He looks surprised by my question. Could it be that he expected me to ask about vampires, I wonder?

Gabe leans closer to me and lowers his voice. His closeness would still make my heart race if I wasn't completely in love with Adam. I've resolved my feelings for Gabriel. He's like family now.

"Nephilim of old lived hundreds of human years, but over time our lifespans have diminished significantly. I assume, as our bloodlines became weaker and more diluted through the ages, eventually the gifts will fade away." Gabe's gaze drifts as if lost in thought.

"But what about now? How long will you live?" I press.

He shakes his head. "Sorry. If the last generation is an example, I'll live to be at least a hundred and forty or fifty years. Assuming I survive that long." He pauses, watching my reaction before adding, "Uncle Stephan is almost that age and looks like a fit sixty-year-old. My grandfather died in his sleep, but always refused to tell anyone his true age," he laughs.

"I can't believe you will live that long. How old are you, anyway?" I never thought to ask this question because I assumed him to be early thirties at the most.

"I'm forty-five," he says. And I wait for the punch line—and wait. Gabe wears a guilty grin.

"Shut up! You are not forty-five," I exclaim.

"I didn't volunteer my age because I thought you'd have too many questions or... not be interested." He folds his hands in his lap, and suddenly I see it in his mannerisms. Little things suddenly make sense.

"Would you have given me the time of day if you knew my true age?" Gabe asks. I think about that. Before meeting Adam, I'd had an enormous crush on Gabriel Devereux. When he finally asked me out, I thought I'd hit the lottery.

After all this time and all that I've put him through, it's difficult to believe he still wants to remain friends. Would I have considered dating someone almost twenty years older than me? Maybe not. But, I got to know Gabe without the prejudice of age.

"I don't think I have any hang-ups dating older men—not when I'm dating one who's pushing five-centuries." We laugh at the notion.

Adam. I wish we were traveling together. Always the mysterious one, he was vague regarding his own travel arrangements. Sometimes, I wonder if Gabe is the reason he keeps some information to himself—concerned about giving the hunter too much knowledge, even if they have a cease-fire between them.

"I think it's time to visit that tiny torture room at the back of the plane," I say rising from my seat. Gabe stands to let me out.

"Stay away from Brandy. If she offers you anything, just decline," Gabe says, smiling.

"What?"

Gabe doesn't bother to reply but laughs as he takes his seat.

***

Arriving in London is like discovering an entire city that's really one huge museum. I'm pretty certain, I died and went to heaven. I can't get over the history and grandeur that we've passed. Even, as exhausted as I feel, the desire to ask the driver to pull over so that I can walk these streets and soak up the atmosphere, has me feeling giddy with excitement. It's sensory overload for a bright-eyed American who's never left the shores of her country before. I can't wait to explore every inch of this city.

Having rarely traveled out of the state of Arizona, and never out of the country, I'm excited to see and learn as much as I can about London and the people who call it home. Most of the oldest buildings in Arizona are relatively young by Europe's standards, and still newer compared to the east coast of the US. But these places have stories to tell. Some I've heard, others will be new to me. And I have the two best tour guides a girl could ask for.

Turning to smile at Gabe, I find him watching me, an amused grin gracing his face. Ignoring him, I plaster my forehead against the window of the Rolls Royce that picked us up from the airport. Adam obviously has money, but I've not given it much thought until today. It's not every day that a girl gets picked up at the airport by a shiny black Rolls.

Will I fit in Adam's world, I wonder?

Gabe doesn't appear to be uncomfortable with the car and driver. He doesn't even glance out of the window, choosing instead to squeeze in a little more work before we arrive. Gabriel is a born academic. Only his rugged good looks and football-player body messes up his nerdiness.

Never judge a book by its cover, right?

The car pulls to the curb in front of an impressive hotel, and someone opens my door before I know what's happening. From that moment on, it's a whirlwind of activity as we are escorted into the hotel, checked-in, and escorted across the hotel to the elevators. From the lobby, there's a great view of a restaurant to one side and a bar on the other.

For a brief moment, something catches my eye and I stop following Gabe and the porter to peer into the dimly lit bar. On one of the bar stools, a man with dark hair sits facing the bartender. There is nothing noticeable or distinct about him that I can see, but for a moment I thought he had long white hair, not short and brown.

"What's wrong?" Gabe asks, peering in the same direction.

"Nothing, I guess. Just checking things out," I say, as I begin moving forward again.

Our rooms are more like an elegant apartment. The bell-hop places my bags in a room with double doors and he then takes Gabe's baggage to his room across the hall. When the man is gone, Gabe closes the door. I'm aware of him watching me as I wander around the living room that could double as a palace. A small voice in my head keeps telling me I don't belong here.

"Nice, isn't it?" Gabe asks.

"Nice isn't the correct word to describe this," I mumble more to myself.

"I think Adam is trying to impress you. Is it working?" Gabe asks with a smirk. Sometimes, I think Gabe is still a bit miffed that I chose Adam over him. I suppose it's understandable, with him being the more obvious choice. Or maybe it's just that he's a hunter and Adam's a vampire. According to them, they are preprogrammed to kill each other, but I believe that's true less and less.

"Hmmm. Maybe it's just the way he lives. I haven't had the chance to see what sort of lifestyle Adam lives when he's not chasing down rogue vampires." I plop down into a Queen Ann chair and instantly know that I've made a strategic mistake. "I mean his and Jacob's place is much nicer than yours or mine but..." I yawn without finishing my thought. My eyes are so heavy, I believe that I could fall asleep sitting up.

Gabe walks over and kisses the top of my head. "I'll head to my room and make some calls. I've some contacts at the university I'd like to meet with while I'm here. You should get some rest before dinner. I'm just across the hall if you should need me." He smiles at me as he closes the door, leaving me alone. I wave weakly as he goes.

The quiet of the room, the jet-lag, and now sitting down has me dragging myself to the bedroom. I'm suddenly too tired to enjoy the luxury of my accommodations. Even my urge to explore is overshadowed by my need to close my eyes. Fluffy white pillows on the bed grab my attention, like a magnet pulling me to them. I'm asleep before my head touches the soft down-filled clouds.

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