Page 71 of De-Witched

“That’s true.” Bastian held up an acknowledging finger at a customer. “Leah’s kind of the human equivalent of a battering ram. She gets through in the end.”

As Bastian ambled off to fill the order, Gabriel watched speculation fill Henry’s eyes. And he frowned. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You like this woman.”

“She’s tolerable.”

“You really like her.”

Gabriel pokered up. “I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to. She must be something to get you to see beyond your fears.”

“It’s not just her.” Gabriel unbent enough to smile faintly. “Though she plays a big part. Being here...spending time with humans, it’s harder to hold onto the past. I’ve enjoyed it, learned from them. That has value.” He stared at his signet ring, all that it represented. “My parents hoped to take the company forward, expand. At least now I think I might be able to live up to their expectations and carry it through.”

Henry said nothing, but set a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder briefly. He didn’t dwell, didn’t point out that most family was held together by love, not cold obligation.

Instead, he lifted his beer again with a quick grin. “So, you’re dating this human?”

“You know that’s impossible.”

“Interesting.” Henry drank, set it down. “You didn’t say you didn’t want to. Have you kissed her?”

Bastian returned at the tail end, cocked his head.

Loathing the attention, Gabriel refused to say anything. Not that it mattered.

“Shit,” Bastian said unhappily. “Emma’s going to freak.” His expression shifted to something Gabriel couldn’t read. “Not sure what Kole will say.”

The muscles in his back stiffened. “Are they...involved?”

“No.” Bastian drew it out, making it sound more like a question. “Though I’ve always wondered—” He stopped short, gaze going over Gabriel’s shoulder. His lips formed a silent whistle. “Well, hell, what did you do, Goodnight?”

Gabriel frowned.

Bastian’s smile was more a smirk as he nodded behind him. “Cute blonde, pint-sized, pissed off, and headed your way.” As Gabriel swiveled, Bastian added, “Start praying now.”

Leah wasted no time as she approached the dark warlock. She ignored the hubbub of the evening crowd, the pumping music, even Bastian’s casual greeting as she screeched to a halt, planting her feet and her hands on her hips. She gave Gabriel her best glower.

He didn’t react. “Leah.”

She threw up an accusing finger. “Don’t even. How dare you hide that the shelter was vandalized again? Is that your call to make? Newsflash: this isn’t the 1900s, Gabriel. I don’t need some interfering, autocratic man deciding what I should and shouldn’t know. You had no right.”

Gabriel didn’t stand from his stool, which put them at an even height for once. His startling green eyes surveyed her with careful neutrality.

It infuriated her. How he was calm and contained while she was a bag of hormones and lust. Even now, as pissed as she was, all she wanted to do was grab hold of the black sweater he was wearing and have his glorious mouth locked on hers again. Addiction ran through her bloodstream, hyping the irritation that he’d been hiding things from her.

She’d called in to run through some details with Sonny for the gala, only to be told they’d been vandalized again. But Gabriel had taken care of it, she’d been assured. Read: don’t worry her pretty little head.

“I am not one of your minions,” she said, poking her finger into his chest. Meeting a wall of muscle. “I am not beneath you. It’s not your place to choose whether to tell me something.”

He waited. “Are you done?”

Her lips thinned.

“Because I wasn’t keeping it from you.”

“Bull,” she spat.

---