“What can I do to help?” Ildaria asked at once, and he glanced around to see her sliding off the chair and bending to setH.D. on the ground.
“Nothing,” he said as H.D. returned to his side and curled up on the floor next to him. The little beggar would stay closeuntil he stopped cooking in the hopes that pieces of bacon would magically fall to the floor for him to gobble up.
“I could make toast,” Ildaria suggested.
“It’s already made and staying warm in the oven, next to a bowl of fried potatoes,” he told her. “The bacon is the last ofit, except for eggs, and those can’t be made until the bacon is done.” And then, to prevent her arguing further, he added,“The kettle should still be hot. Make yourself a tea and keep me company.” He’d set the tea to boil three times since returningabout an hour ago.
Knowing Ildaria wouldn’t be up for a while, he’d gone to his own apartment after taking H.D. out to relieve himself. He’dhad coffee and a couple Pop-Tarts there, made phone calls and then puttered around until a little after one when he’d judgedit was late enough that she would wake up within the next hour or so. Then G.G. had gathered bacon, eggs, potatoes, and hislarge grill pan and led H.D. back here to start breakfast.
“Did you want tea too?” Ildaria asked.
“No. I’m rocking the coffee this morning,” he responded. “Thank you, though.”
She murmured something he didn’t really catch over the clink of a spoon in a cup, and then said, “So, I’m guessing this Mirabeau and Tiny told you about what happened last night?”
“Yes,” he acknowledged. G.G. had made them describe exactly what they’d been told about what had happened when he’d returnedupstairs with H.D. He should have made them do that before he went downstairs with H.D. It would have made spotting the bloodon the grass out back much less alarming had he known it was all from her attackers and not Ildaria’s. Seeing the dried bloodstaining the blades of grass had given him a shock. He’d known she must be okay. She’d been well enough to have shared dreamswith him, but she could have been injured and healed. Immortals healed quickly.
Learning she was uninjured and had kicked ass all on her own, had filled him with relief, pride, and concern. He was relievedshe wasn’t hurt, proud she’d kicked ass like that, but concerned for her well-being now. He was also pissed. She shouldn’thave to fight for her life like this, but he suspected she’d had to do that frequently in her two hundred plus years. He doubtedshe’d been lucky enough that this was the first time her pursuers had caught up with her in two centuries.
“Did they tell you what’s been done with Juan’s Enforcers?” Ildaria asked, distracting him from his thoughts.
“Last they’d heard, Lucian had called in Rachel to remove your shoes—She’s a doctor who’s married to Etienne Argeneau, one of Lucian’s nephews,” G.G. interrupted himself to explain. “But apparently she had some trouble getting your shoe out of the one guy’s face. I guess it was hooked on the bone and she had to operate,” he explained and heard her grunt behind him in acknowledgment. “The other guy wouldn’t even let her near him until they knocked him out. He didn’t want the shoe removed. He didn’t want the healing to start.”
“Si, healing from that would be a bitch,” Ildaria said with satisfaction.
G.G. nodded. The shoe had apparently gone through his testicle. The kick that had inserted the shoe would have been swiftand excruciating, but that would be nothing next to the healing. That would be much slower, the pain extended over hours asthe nanos repaired the damage. The thought wasn’t a pleasant one, but it was no less than the man deserved for trying to takehis woman, G.G. thought grimly.
Speaking of which, he thought, and said, “After I heard the news about the attack, I thought perhaps we should leave Canada to avoid any furtherattacks.”
G.G. was aware of the sudden stillness behind him, and added, “But as my father said, they may know that we’re life mates.If they don’t, it wouldn’t be hard to find out, and then they’d just follow us to England.”
“England?” she echoed, but he couldn’t tell how she was feeling. She didn’t sound surprised, more curious.
“Yes. At first, I was thinking we could go there, but my father thinks we should handle it here if we can. That way we would have the support of the North American as well as the UK Council because I’m a Brit in Canada. He doesn’t think Lucian would be allowed to interfere in England since you’re from the Dominican Republic which is guided by the South American Council,” he explained.
“Si, if Juan complained and a summit of Council leaders was called, they might decide Lucian has no business in this if Iam not still living in Canada,” Ildaria murmured, sounding a little distracted. He understood why when she said, “Your fatherpointed this out? He knows about me?”
G.G. nodded. “I called my parents after I finished talking to Mirabeau and Tiny. I thought I should tell them about us, andlet them know that we might be flying over soon. It seemed better than just showing up and giving my mother fits.” He pausedbriefly, but then quickly added, “I say might be flying over, because I would have checked with you before booking the flightsor anything. I wasn’t going all caveman on you.”
He heard her sigh behind him and then she whispered, “I wish I could hug you right now.”
“I do too,” he admitted, his voice husky, but then shook his head. “Unfortunately, we have talking to do right now and ifyou hugged me . . .”
“That talking wouldn’t get done,” she said, sounding resigned.
He heard her cross the room and the scrape of a chair being pulled out. G.G. wasn’t surprised to see her settling at the
