Waterlocked
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Tucking her into his side, Terry steered the small inflatable away from the larger town and into the black night. They cut across the water, making their way to the safe house tucked into the hills. As soon as Gemma’s feet touched land, she breathed deeply, sinking her feet into the rocky soil and drawing deeply from the energy of the earth. It sang beneath her, warming her bones and making her blood rush.
“Hmm.” Gemma turned to see Terry blinking a little and looking around. “That’s odd.”
“Do you feel it?” The energy filled her. She almost felt like laughing, despite the danger they were in. “With my blood, do you feel it?”
Terry shook his head. “I’m sure it’s not what you feel, but there’s definitely something different.”
She reached a hand out and grasped his. “You’re warmer, too.”
“Am I?” He threw a simple pack over his shoulder and tugged her up the path leading to the rock cottage hidden in the hills. From the outside, it looked like an old, abandoned house, but Gemma had dug into the hills, creating a very comfortable, if small, shelter for them with three secured rooms. When they were in Muros, they sometimes abandoned the parties and meetings to hide there, just for a bit of privacy.
“It feels different,” she said shyly. “I imagine this will take some getting used to.”
“I imagine so.” He moved as confidently over the rocky ground as he did in the water. “Are you glad, Gem? I’m glad.” He abruptly stopped and she almost ran into him. “I’d never imagined you loving me like this. Are you happy? You feel happy. I don’t even know how I know that, but—”
Terry stopped when she kissed him. Finally, she pulled away. “Completely unexpected, Terry. Loving you was never the plan. I think that just makes it better, don’t you?”
His eyes crinkled in the corners a bit when he smiled. She’d never noticed how attractive that was before. “You and me?” he said. “We won’t ever be bored, will we?”
“Never.”
Chapter Nine
Terry woke that evening with Gemma curled into his side, reading a folder he’d brought from London that detailed their current agreement with Leonor regarding trade in Morocco. He lay still and quiet, appreciating the scene before he began what he knew would be a long night.
There had been a few moments like this in his immortal life, moments he knew at the time were life-altering. Change came slowly when you had hundreds, possibly thousands, of years to live. Change was approached cautiously. With respect. A single turn could alter eternity irrevocably.
But this change...
He had dreamt of it. Fantasized about what it would be if she loved him as he loved her. What it would mean for them both to be true partners? He had no way of predicting how this would change them, but he knew in his heart that it would be for the better.
“You’re thinking quite loudly, darling.”
“I love that,” he said in a voice rough from sleep.
“What?”
“‘Darling.’ You calling me darling. I love that.” He saw her hide her face a bit in the paperwork. “What?”
“I’ve called you that for years in my mind. I just didn’t say it.”
He couldn’t stop the smile. “Why not?”
She only shrugged, which was fine. He knew how to read her by now. He pulled the manilla folder from her hands and placed it on the small bedside table in the room they now shared.
“Well,” he said, “I like it. So feel free to call me that along with the occasional elitist insult, luv.”
“I am not an elitist.”
He only laughed.
“I’m not! I wasn’t born a lady, Terry. Far from it.”
“No, you weren’t.” He ran a hand over her hair. It was still a bit mussed, which pleased him. “You fought and clawed your way where you wanted to be. Made yourself into the person and the vampire you are today.”
“I did what had to be done.”
“You’re extraordinary. It’s no wonder I love you.”
“And you,” she smiled wickedly and threw her leg over him, “have never pretended to be anything but who you are. You say that I’m an elitist, but you’re a proud, proud man, Terrance Ramsay.”
“I have reason.”
“I know,” she purred before she leaned down to kiss him. “And I love it. Love that you don’t care what anyone else thinks. Love that you make no apologies. You’re proud. And I’m proud to be your mate.”
Forget the priest. That was better than any vow she could speak. He reached up and grabbed her, pulling her into a fierce embrace. He had to have her that very second.
“Love you.” He claimed her mouth with a kiss before he rolled them over, pressing her into the mattress. “So much, Gem.”
“I love you, too.”
She couldn’t say it enough. He reveled in it, moving into her with a satisfied growl. Smiling like a boy as they made love. There was still the barely restrained ferocity between them—they would never be polite lovers—but layering over it was a new tenderness that fed his soul.
She was his. His own. His love. His mate.
Forever.
As she dressed later, he heard her ask, “How are we playing this?”
He was stretched out on the bed. It took her ages to prepare for the night, so he was watching her. She usually dressed in her own rooms, but he was putting an end to that. Watching Gemma was highly entertaining.