It would happen. She would become obsessed, addicted to him.

It always did.

He couldn’t live with himself if she became Rochelle.

“No, I don’t think anyone saw you. How could they? This is the third floor and the only window in the room faces the courtyard and the roof of the carriage house.”

She bit her fingernails. “You’re right. But why the hell was there a bottle of absinthe sitting outside the door?” Running her fingers across her bottom lip, she paced, Angel darting out of her way and leaping onto the couch. “First the pictures, now absinthe. Someone is toying with me, and it’s starting to really piss me off.”

Gabriel could see that. She had pink cheeks, tousled hair, and an exasperated look on her face. While there was definitely fear in her eyes, there was also anger. She was mad that someone was interfering in her life.

“I want to be left alone.”

“Me, too,” he said with all sincerity. The question was, how much did he tell her about Raphael, who was known to her as Rafe? She liked the guy. Thought he was innocent. And Gabriel had no proof of anything other than the fact that Raphael had known both women, which of course he couldn’t share with her. Nor could he tell Sara that he was concerned about Rafe’s actions because he had in fact known him in the nineteenth century when he had been Jonathon Thiroux. “I can’t explain what is going on here, but I want you to know that you’re safe here with me, Sara. I’ll protect you.”

To the demon death, if necessary.

She didn’t deserve that, had done nothing to bring this kind of fear, suffering, on herself. Gabriel couldn’t undo the past, but he could prevent any more harm from befalling Sara. It felt like his fault, like he had somehow been responsible for introducing Raphael into Sara’s world, which was totally irrational. He hadn’t known that Raphael could have killed Anne, and had never thought of him as a threat to anyone. He had lost track of him years ago and had been perfectly content to not know anything about him.

Back in the nineteenth century, Raphael was actually the one who had introduced him to Anne. She had been Raphael’s mistress first, but Gabriel had bought her away from him, attracted to her auburn hair and sweet smile. Raphael hadn’t cared. He had said he was tired of her, had indicated she had a level of prudery he had no patience for.