The Prophecy (The Guardians) - By Wendy Owens Page 0,30

be a lie.

“Alright, I’ll tell him. I’ll be back as soon as we find a place. Be safe.” Uri said, reaching out and grabbing Gabe’s arm before disappearing into nothingness.

Gabe watched until that last lingering bit of smoke dissipated. He took comfort in knowing, at least for the time being, that Rachel would remain here, with him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

After Uri left, trying to sleep seemed pointless. Gabe couldn’t stop thinking about everything he had said. What if Uri hadn’t shaken the tracker like he thought? Were he and Rachel in danger now? Would Gabe be able to actually protect Rachel if their hiding spot were uncovered?

What about the things Michael had told Uri? It sounded like Michael was full of regret that he had placed Gabe’s life in danger. Perhaps Gabe was wrong about his mentor. He had always assumed the moment he left Rampart, Michael would be so full of disappointment and disgust for him, he could only hate him.

Then there were the discussions about Gabe’s feelings for Rachel. He had managed to avoid the topic successfully with Uri, but it didn’t mean there wasn’t merit to his the observation. Gabe in fact had been haunted with fantasies of Rachel and he having explicit escapades. He had dismissed them up until this point as nothing more than the natural hormonal impulses of a man. After all, he had needs that had not been met in quite some time.

It was becoming clear to Gabe, the more he thought about Uri’s words, that in fact what he felt for Rachel was not just innocent urges. The thought of her leaving unraveled him. The idea of being alone, the constant solitude was tolerable, he knew that after a year of it. It was more than just the idea of being alone, it was being without her. Feeling this way about her shook Gabe to his core. After Sophie, he never wanted to feel that for someone else again. Loss hurts too much and Gabe even had a prophecy telling him that any future Rachel and he could have was doomed. Yet here he was, unable to let her go.

Gabe was determined not to let Rachel discover his feelings. He would deal with them in his own way. Just because he wanted her, didn’t mean he had to act on those desires. Being near her, keeping her safe, that would have to be enough; anything more would only lead to disappointment.

Gabe looked over his shoulder at Rachel who still slept peacefully. He debated telling her about Uri’s visit, at first convincing himself that it would only frighten her. The more he struggled with the choice he realized he was actually the one that was afraid. What if he told her and she decided she would be safer at Iron Gate? How could he not tell her though? She had been just as worried about Uri as he had been; it wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark like that.

“What is that delicious smell?” Rachel asked, sitting up and releasing her body into a stretch.

“I thought maybe you would appreciate it if I returned the favor and did the cooking for once. Breakfast is actually something I can handle. I hope you like pancakes.” Gabe added, placing the towering plate on the table.

“What? No way, my eyes must be deceiving me.” Rachel gasped, hopping up and rushing to the table, breathing in the steaming stack of goodness.

“Ha ha,” Gabe chimed back sarcastically. Extending his arm he offered her a jar, the outside of which was covered in sticky finger prints. “I’m afraid I don’t have any maple syrup, but I do have honey.”

“Honey is perfect.” Rachel squealed, grabbing the jar before taking a seat. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“Wow, it’s that hard to believe that I might actually do something nice.” Gabe retorted.

“You know what I mean, it was nice, that’s all I’m saying.” Rachel defended her remark even though she knew Gabe was only joking. Stabbing at the top two pancakes, she dragged them to her plate, slathering them liberally with the honey. Without hesitation, she stuffed a heaping bite in her mouth, moaning with delight.

“You like them, huh?”

Muffled and still chewing, Rachel groaned, “Oh my God, these are so good.”

“Thanks, it’s one of the few things I can actually cook. One of my many foster parents taught me.” Gabe explained, a fond but brief memory invading his thoughts.

Gabe seized the nearby kettle and poured Rachel a steaming cup of coffee; pushing