Marked by Passion Read Online Free PDF Page B

dangerous; now it was only somewhat questionable.
    Apartment is kind of an exaggeration, though. It was minuscule, even by San Francisco standards. The front room fit my futon, and I could fry an egg and take a shower at the same time, which made it convenient that I didn't cook.
    But the reason I took it, except for the cheap rent, was the back room: my solarium slash painting studio. It'd been a porch at one time but was enclosed at some point with glass. It was incredible—not huge, but the natural light that filtered in during the day was amazing. It made the frigid cold from the lack of insulation worth it.
    We arrived at my front door without incident. I unlocked it, but before I could thank him for the company and send him on his way, he slipped inside past me.
    "What the hell?" I muttered. I followed him, closing the door behind me. Then I locked it for good measure. No sense in taking chances when the scroll wasn't secure yet.
    My birthmark tingled as if agreeing.
    Jesse poked his head into the bathroom and then casually checked out the kitchen before disappearing into my studio.
    It seemed like he was scoping things out. Was he checking for another guy? The Brit came to mind, and I snorted as I pictured his elegance in my meager shack.
    I'd get down to the bottom of Jesse's weird behavior— after I stowed the scroll away. Walking briskly, I went into the little kitchenette and put it in the safest place I could think of: the refrigerator. No one would look for it there.
    As I closed the refrigerator door, I paused. Maybe I should check it first. I hadn't looked at it since I hid it in the office, after all. I'd just make sure everything was in order, maybe open it and take a look—
    "Gabe? What are you doing?"
    Jesse's voice reverberated in my head. Blinking, I realized I had the fridge door handle in a death grip.
    He leaned in the doorway between the kitchen and my studio, concern furrowing his brow. "Gabe?"
    Strange. I forced myself to step away from the fridge and faced him. "What were you doing?"
    "What do you mean?"
    I frowned at the caution in his tone. "It was like you were casing the joint."
    "Just checking out your work. I didn't think you'd mind. You used to show me your paintings." He brushed the back of his hand across my cheek. "Did I tell you how proud I am of you?"
    That shut me up. Not even Madame La Rochelle had told me she was proud of me, though it was implied. But of all the people I wanted to hear that from, Jesse was the last. I pulled back, a little, but it was enough that he noticed.
    The corner of his lips lifted. "I seem to be hitting all your buttons tonight."
    I opened my mouth, but I didn't know what to say so I just closed it again.
    "Funny how fearless you are except when it comes to emotions." Sadness tinged his smile. He reached out to chuck my chin, and then he moved past me. "See you around, babe."
    Dumbfounded, I stood in the kitchen, staring after him. I heard the door open and click shut.
    What was up with him? I knew that he was still hung up on me, but he never pressed the way he did tonight. It reeked of desperation.
    Why would he, of all people, be desperate?
    Shaking my head, I went to deadbolt the door. Except as I stepped into the living room, I found one irritated-looking ghost hovering next to my futon.
    "Who was that man?" he demanded, arms crossed.
    "None of your business," was my automatic answer. Then I said, "What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"
    "I told you I'm here to prepare you for the Guardianship."
    "And I told you I don't want to be Guardian. End of story."
    "The choice isn't yours to make."
    The hell it wasn't. But I knew better than to argue the point with him. Shrugging out of my jacket, I dropped it on the floor and climbed onto my futon. I kicked off my shoes and pulled the covers over myself, clothes and all.
    "Gabrielle, stop hiding. You need to face this. It's time to stop running."
    Ignore the ghost, I told myself, huddling deeper. He'll go