"Let's eat," Gideon broke the uncomfortable silence as the train clacked its way out of Paris. Rising from his bench, he indicated the door with a nod of his head.

"Is the bathroom on the way?" Remi queried. Her bladder was full. The gentle sway of the rail car was beginning to wreak havoc on the organ.

"No." With his thumb, Gideon pointed at the pocket door behind him. "These luxury cabins have an en suite."

"Oh," Remi barely breathed the word. She didn't feel comfortable using it in such close, cramped quarters. Not with Gideon near, at least.

Seeing Remi's indecision, Gideon announced, "I'll wait in the hall." Then, he squeezed past her and exited their small room.

Once the cabin's door shut, Remi raced to the bathroom. It was a tiny three-piece, containing a single person shower, toilet, and sink. There was no door on the shower as the whole bathroom was tiled. It sloped toward a drain in the middle of the floor. Still, she wondered if someone the size of Gideon would fit.

Meeting him in the hall, Remi followed the rougarou toward the last, rear car. In her experience, the dining car was in the center of the train. She was unfamiliar with "luxury cabins" and their ways. So, with eyes wide and taking it all in, she tried to look past Gideon. It proved to be too monumental of a task with him having such a massive frame. Still, the edge of excitement pressed against her bubble of depression as they neared the dining room.

They were met by a hostess who stood in front of an opened, multi-paned set of French doors. Gideon said something low and showed her their tickets. After taking a quick look inside, he turned to Remi. "Go on in. I'll join you in a moment."

The pretty blonde hostess showed Remi to a table. The end of their car resembled a five-star restaurant on a much smaller scale. Some tables seated four at one side of the off-set aisle. On the other, a row of two-seaters marched toward the back windows of the train. Plush dining chairs covered in rich, navy fabric bracketed the tables.

Remi felt self-conscious as she stepped into such luxury. She was alarmingly underdressed in an old, pink oversized cable-knit sweater and faded black fleece-lined leggings. Looking down as she followed the hostess, her torn and stained snow boots seemed to stare back abashed from the lavish, damask carpet.

"Your man," the blonde whose nametag proclaimed her to be "Jeanne" began in French, "asked for this table." She sounded as if Remi might protest having the last table for two. It sat opposite a mini corner bar.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Remi murmured, then sat in the rear-facing seat. The rear window showed the glow of Paris' lights in the distance, set against a black sky. It was to be her last sight of the city she loved.

The hostess had been staring at Remi's swollen and bruised jaw. While packing, she'd hastily applied makeup to cover the injury. It wasn't working as the label promised, it would seem.

"What can I get you?" the barman asked after the blonde woman left. It appeared as if he were in his late twenties. He was just shy of being called handsome. However, his gregarious mein added to his attractiveness.

"I'll have a whiskey and Coke," Remi addressed the table in front of her. Even so, out of her peripheral, she observed the man's wince when he got a good look at the left side of her jaw. He tried to hide it, but it flashed across his features. Between her clothes and wound, she was feeling down-right self-conscious.

A tumbler of dark liquid was placed in front of Remi. With a finger, she slowly spun the glass, picking it up and taking a sip occasionally. About a quarter of her nursed drink was gone by the time Gideon came to their table.

"Sorry," the werewolf murmured as he sat across from Remi.

Gideon still favored his side, the one where his ribs were cracked. Yet, he was moving more loosely than before. Keenly feeling her jaw throb beneath the pain medication, Remi wished she could heal as quickly. "I had to make sure Henri kept his word," he further explained.

Storm clouds darkened the beautiful hazel eyes staring at Gideon from across the table. He found himself at a loss as to how he could make Remi understand why he'd done what he had. The need to protect was as essential to him as breathing.

Pulling on his witch magic, Gideon placed a ward against eavesdropping around them. There was a small group of well-dressed people filling the dining car. He had no way of knowing if any of them were of the races and, therefore, had heightened senses.

"Remi," Gideon began in a commanding tone. When her gaze rose from her barely touched drink, he continued. "I don't know how long my magic will last, so I need to say this quickly. What you are is very rare."

Dark brows pinched above Remi's pert nose. "You mean a seer?"

"Yes, but in the races, you are known as a mystic," Gideon explained briskly. Already he felt his hold on the warding magic weaken. He'd used too much of his witch powers during the fight. "Powerful beings would kill to have control over you."

Across from him, Gideon watched as Remi puffed up in affront. "No one controls me," she stated.

"Jocelyn Martin did," Gideon harshly reminded Remi. As did Trystan for a time, he thought but wisely kept that to himself. "She is a daemon, more human than her demonic vampire brothers and sisters. They are strong in mental magic. When I learned you were a mystic, I felt the need to shield you from her; from our world. There are for too many who would exploit your talents, use them for their own, personal gain."

A toast from the other side of the car broke into Gideon's explanation. The merry mood of the apparent wedding party contrasted sharply with the one at his table. Reaching across the smooth rosewood surface, he covered Remi's hand with his. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he finished, "My only thought was to protect you."

Remi felt her anger - the dark knight that had been her savior from having to deal with her messed up situation - falter. Attempts to clutch it to her breast failed as reason defeated her fury. After the release of a pent-up breath, it was vanquished completely. Eyes rising, they were caught up in Gideon's light blue, steady gaze.

"You had your reasons for spying on me," Remi uttered slowly. "I can accept that, and I really am sorry for slapping you."

A small smile lifted the corners of Gideon's lips. "Forgive me?"

Huffing out a breath, Remi shook her head. He was pushing it, asking for forgiveness. Still, she surprised herself by saying, "Yes."

That smile grew. "Thank you," Gideon uttered with feeling. "I'm dropping my magic," he warned, then the slight tension in his features eased.

Remi had many more questions for Gideon but knew they'd have to wait until they were alone. The opposite side of the dining car had filled with a boisterous crowd containing newlyweds and their younger relatives. She felt as if she now knew them after all the toasting.

An unwanted side-effect from Remi's dark knight leaving was that she was truly alone with Gideon for the first time since he "left" for his job. With anger no longer around to shield her, insecurity and uncertainty came to the fore. Luckily, another savior was there before her. Remi gulped down her drink.

Gideon's dark brows rose, but before he could comment, a waiter came to their table. "Here are our menus for tonight's journey." The middle-aged man was French and sounded somewhat harried. His arrival had been delayed by trying to take the orders of the rowdy guests opposite.

Without even looking at the menu, Gideon asked for two of everything. When the waiter opened his mouth to question the order, concerned, light blue eyes left Remi's and turned glacial. The middle-aged man understood the nonverbal message and sputtered, "Of course," typing it into the tablet he carried. As he walked down the aisle, Remi heard him mutter something about deserving double pay.

"That wasn't very nice," Remi criticized. Another dark-colored drink appeared before her. Smiling her thanks at the bartender, she placed a hand over the top of the glass. In her peripheral, she'd seen Gideon reach for it. "Don't you dare," she warned the rougarou, catching his eye once again.

"You shouldn't drink so much on an empty stomach."

"I'm a grown-ass woman who'll do whatever she damn well pleases."

Sitting back in his chair, Gideon shook his head. Whatever he wanted to say was drowned out by another boisterous toast. Remi turned to look at the group. The newlyweds were snuggled up to each other's sides, blissful smiles on their faces. There were three other couples with them. All were young and full of life. Their revelry affecting her, she smiled. The pulling of muscles recalled her attention to her wound. Instantly, Remi's good humor fled. Her reality was no longer full of simple joys, and never would be again.

Thinking of her former life, Remi recalled her upcoming gig. Slumping her shoulders, she thought of the call she'd have to make. She wanted to wait, wanted to hope there was a chance she could return to Paris.

Leaning his upper torso across the table, Gideon murmured, "What is it?"

After taking a sip of her whiskey and Coke, Remi told him, "My life in Paris was starting to look up. I met a mysterious, handsome man." The corners of Gideon's mouth lifted briefly as she locked eyes with him. "Then, after months of being blackballed – no thanks to Trystan, I'm sure – my career was picking up again. I have a gig booked at La Vie d'Paris next weekend," she admitted and took another deep drink. "Now, I have to bail, and I'm not looking forward to making that phone call."

Straightening a little, Gideon kept his voice low as he admitted, "Axel called me while I was checking the train. He heard what happened, so he knows you are no longer able to keep your appointment."

"Oh," Remi uttered and took another drink. At least she was saved from making a call she had no desire to make.

"He did want me to let you know they asked for you to come back because they liked what you did during New Year's Eve."

Gideon held back that the conversation turned down that path initially because he told Axel he'd owe him something else. He wasn't giving up Remi for anything or anyone. That's when the shaman told him why she'd been booked in the first time.

Although Gideon had promised not to be dishonest with Remi anymore, he didn't want to tell her what Axel hinted at. It wasn't a certainty and would only cause her further worry. Yet, he'd sworn only a few hours ago to tell her everything.

With a sigh, Gideon made his decision. "About why you were booked for that New Year's Eve party," he began. "Axel said it was because a client wanted you there."

Across from him, Remi's nearly pure amber eyes widened. "Do I know this person?"

Shifting in his chair, Gideon unconsciously created more distance between them. Once settled, he explained, "Axel was being cagey, protecting the identity of his client. He hinted around enough that I believe I know the identity of the one who got you hired. He was likely there that night."

Gaze pinning Remi's, Gideon said low, "I believe it was Trystan."

Brows pinched above her pert nose. "Maybe he was trying to make up for getting me blackballed in the first place?"

Gideon didn't think Remi's ex's motives were so innocent, yet he kept that assumption to himself. He was content that he now knew Axel had no intention of calling in his favor and asking for Remi to be returned to him. But Trystan's renewed interest in her was worrisome.

Their meal arrived, and their table was covered with various plates. Remi ordered her third drink. Heated blood pleasantly thrummed through her veins.

As she picked at her coq au vin, Remi asked, "Is Axel like you?"

Gideon took a moment from devouring his food to answer. "Yes, but we are different nationalities."

A giggle bubbled up at Gideon's careful phrasing. Why Remi thought his way of saying Axel was of a different race was funny, she didn't know. But she did.

Empty dishes were cleared as dessert was delivered. Where Remi had only picked at her one meal, Gideon cleaned up the three others. The main course was a choice between coq au vin and beef bourguignon. Since he'd ordered two of everything, there'd been four dishes, plus the salads.

Brows rising, Remi teased, "Hungry?"

Lifting his shoulders, Gideon barely paused in eating his chocolate soufflé to answer. "Healing wolves are hungry wolves."

"Huh," Remi huffed. She then turned her attention to her dessert, an apple tart called tarte Tatin.

Before long, Gideon was paying the bar tab and helping Remi out of her seat. Luckily, her bruise was on the left side of her face, and the wedding party was on her right. They called out friendly "goodnights" as she walked past them. Careful to keep her injury hidden, she returned their calls and congratulated the happy couple.

After the door separating the cars closed behind them, Gideon put his arm around Remi's waist. "You're snobbled," he said as he steadied her.

"'Snobbled'?" Remi giggled. "What in the heck does that mean?"

"It means drunk. Which you are." Gideon opened the door to their compartment.

"Where did you hear it?"

"From my father. He was Welsh."

"A Welsh witch from Wales." Remi giggled again.

Shaking his head, Gideon told Remi, "We need to get you into bed. You're not going to be feeling so well come morning."

Remi paused in unsteadily kicking off her boots. "You were the wolf in the Parc de la Villette all those months ago, weren't you?"

Sitting on the bench beneath the window, Gideon began removing his shoes. "Yes," he admitted as he untied them.

Dropping onto the opposite bench, Remi perched precariously on its edge. Leaning back slightly and bracing her torso on her elbows, she tried toeing off her snow boots. "I always wondered," she grunted, "why a wolf would need a cloak."

Changing the topic in head spinning fashion, Remi complained at her shoes, "What, are they glued on? Why won't they come off?"

Grasping one heel of her old snow boots in his palm, Gideon pulled it off easily. Remi giggled, "I guess they just needed your magical touch."

Shaking his dark head at Remi, Gideon breathed, "You're adorable, even when you're sober." Then more loudly, he ordered, "Give me the other."

Swinging her leg higher than necessary, Remi did as bidden. "You know, that cloak was one of my roommate's favorite belongings. Emile was not happy when I couldn't return it," she continued, watching as Gideon placed their shoes neatly at the end of his bench.

"I had to preserve my modesty." Gideon winked at Remi. "Besides, it had our scents all over it. I didn't want to make it easy for Liam and his men to find you and retaliate."

"So," Remi drawled, "you were naked, and I missed it." A pout followed the words.

Wagging his finger at Remi, Gideon faux scolded, "Behave." Then he sobered and reached over her bench to take their bags down.

Remi delighted in that firm, muscled physique stretched out above her. A hand reached out and ran its way up Gideon's outer thigh to his hip.

Stepping out of her caress, Gideon warned, "Remi, you're befuggered, and I'm knackered."

"'Befuggered'?" the mystic sputtered, then lay back on the bench and laughed up at Gideon. His use of the slang term for "drunk" had the desired effect. It took Remi's mind off of trying to seduce him.

Gideon mentally shook his head. With their close proximity, her lavender and rosemary scent was driving him mad. Any other time, he would've let Remi do whatever she wanted to him. But with her being inebriated, it wasn't right.

"Why don't you use the loo first and ready yourself for bed?"

"You sound mostly American," Remi noted, a slight slur to her words. Pulling her duffle to herself, she unzipped it and opened the top wide. "Where are you from?"

"All over," Gideon replied, sitting back down on "his" bench beneath the window.

"But your dad was Welsh?" Remi asked as she took out a sleeping gown that resembled an oversized t-shirt. At Gideon's grunted reply, she continued with her inquiry. "Where was your mom from?"

"Wales," came Gideon's slow response.

"So, you're Welsh?" Remi pressed.

Gideon nodded, watching as the petite human took out a toothbrush and toothpaste from a small, rectangular travel bag. "Their families had been there since before the Romans."

When Remi stood none-too-steadily, Gideon readied himself to catch her should she fall. She was a bit wobbly as she made her way down the narrow aisle. Once she entered the bathroom and shut the door without mishap, he released a held breath.

The tap turned on, then off a short time later. "Ugh. I hate the taste of alcohol on my breath," came Remi's muffled complaint. Then, she started brushing her teeth.

Taking advantage of the privacy Remi's brief preoccupation granted him, Gideon reached for his bag. He had a pair of rarely used sleeping pants inside.

"Wait!" Remi exclaimed a short time later as Gideon was pulling on his pants. Suddenly, the pocket door slid open. Clutching a worn t-shirt to his bare chest, he felt like an old spinster trying to preserve her modesty.

"You said you were born to break a curse over three hundred years ago!" Remi didn't seem to take note of Gideon's undignified stance.

"Yes," Gideon replied, trying to sound and appear nonchalant. His attention was no longer on his state of undress, but Remi's. The petite, curvy female wore naught but the sleeping gown. Its hem barely cleared her ass. In her hand, she held her bra and panties. The rest of her clothes were scattered on the floor in front of the small sink.

Need filled Gideon. Running a hand through his freed locks at the top of his head, he desperately tried to push it down. Remi was drunk and taking advantage of that wouldn't be right. "I need to use the loo if you're finished?" At Remi's distracted nod, Gideon by her and went inside. If God were with him, He'd make sure the beautiful, tempting female was tucked into bed by the time he exited.

"So, you're over three hundred years old?" Remi mused. For some reason, even though she'd heard the admission, it was only then that it sunk in. Gideon was ancient, for all he looked to be in his late twenties.

"Yes," came the muffled answer to Remi's rhetorical question. "Go to bed, and I'll clean up."

"But I'm not tired," Remi mumbled.

"Remi, please." Gideon's voice sounded strained.

"Fine," Remi huffed and put her undergarments in her bag. Grabbing blankets, she spread them atop the bench and tucked them in, under its sides. It was the one beneath the window. The winter air easily penetrated the translucent barrier to the world outside. Shivering, Remi crawled beneath the covers.

"Are you in bed?" Gideon called.

"Yes," Remi innocently answered back.

"Under the covers?"

"Of course." Remi's eyes began to feel heavy. Maybe she was tired after all.

"I'm coming out," Gideon warned. What did he think Remi was doing?

Blinking her eyes open, Remi watched the ancient rougarou put their belongings away. His blue t-shirt pulled taut over his muscular frame with every stretch. It had her remembering their first and only kiss. It'd been cut far too short.

"You should sleep here," Remi told Gideon when he grabbed the other set of blankets. "The window is cold." She shivered for good measure, feeling like a stealthy little spider enticing its prey into her web.

"Very well," Gideon replied. He made the other bench into a bed. "In you get," he ordered, holding the corner of the blankets open.

Frowning, Remi's alcohol slowed brain finally understood Gideon's meaning. Vowing not to be thwarted in her quest, she threw back her covers. The night-shirt she wore rode high. Waiting until she received the desired reaction – Gideon wouldn't look at her directly, but the stiffness of his shoulders told her he'd caught a glimpse in his peripheral – she swung her legs over the edge of the bench. When her feet hit the carpeted floor, she stood. The nightgown fell back into place.

Sauntering with rolling hips, Remi crossed the small gap between the "beds" in two steps. Stretching up on tiptoes, she cupped Gideon's cheek in the palm of her hand. Applying pressure, she waited until those alluring blue eyes locked on hers.

"I was hoping you'd be willing to share your heat with me." Even standing on her toes, Remi's forehead barely cleared Gideon's chin.

"That's not a good idea," the sexy werewolf breathed. It sounded as if he were half talking to himself.

"It isn't like you haven't slept beside me before," Remi softly pled. The fingertips on her opposite hand trailed across Gideon's hard pec and down its center. Just before they reached his navel, they changed course and spread against his waist. She was careful to avoid his healing ribs.

Remi wanted to pull Gideon near, for him to bend his head so she could capture his lips. Their first kiss was begging to be continued.

"I was a wolf then," Gideon asserted.

Blowing out a frustrated breath at the verbal obstacles Gideon threw in her path, Remi dropped her arms. It was time to change tack. Facing the bench-bed, she raised one foot and planted it on top of the comforter.

"You're supposed to get into bed," Gideon reminded. A large hand came to rest on Remi's lower back as she wobbled slightly. Still, she managed to stand on the bench-bed's soft top, making her somewhat taller than the werewolf.

"I would've preferred the man," Remi announced once she felt steady. "Then and now," she continued in a sultry tone.

Placing her hands on Gideon's shoulders, Remi leaned closer. Her gaze flicked to his. "I'm going to kiss you now," she stated, not wanting to surprise him.

The hand on Remi's lower back flexed. Lips lifting in a sensual grin, Gideon replied, "I know."

A huff of breath escaped Remi's throat. "No more surprises," she vowed just as her lips met Gideon's.

At first, the kiss was soft as before. That wasn't what Remi wanted, though. Angling her head slightly, she ran the tip of her tongue across the seam of Gideon's lips. It had the desired effect, and he opened for her. Her tongue swept inside and danced along his, drawing a low moan from his throat.

Fingers tightening, Remi tested the smooth but firm muscles of Gideon's shoulders beneath his shirt. Then, her hands traveled upward, one cupped his nape, and the other his darkly bristled jaw as their tongues slid across each other in sensual play. Taking a slight step forward on the soft bed, she came closer and leaned her upper body into his.

With a groan, Gideon's hand on Remi's lower back pressed her nearer still. Soon, she was flush against him. Through the barriers of clothing, she felt all of his heated, hard planes.

Before Remi could really enjoy being so close to him, Gideon's other arm came across her shoulders. Then, she was turned and falling. Gideon's hair fell forward, curtaining them as the softness of a pillow enveloped the back of her head.

The arms encasing Remi slid out from around her back. Never once breaking the kiss, Gideon's hands braced on either side of her prone form. Crouching low, he moved atop her. Remi's heartbeat kicked up as he relaxed his limbs and settled his lower half between her thighs. She encircled his waist with her legs as he dropped to his elbows. Carefully cupping her face, he became the aggressor.

The chime of a text was an annoying gnat at the far edge of Remi's consciousness. Ignoring it, she wrapped one hand around Gideon's nape. The other went to his ass and gave a not-so-gentle press. She was rewarded with the slide of his hard, clothes-encased shaft nestling against her wet, sensitized flesh.

Breath catching in the back of her throat, Remi lifted her hips, chasing the fire they kindled. It came out on a moan as Gideon slid his cock against her soft heat. Pleasurable sparks shot toward her furthest extremities.

The next text's chime was also ignored. The three that came in short succession afterward weren't. Cursing, Gideon left the bed. He reached his phone as the fourth text sounded.

"Veto," Gideon growled as he texted the word with force. There was another, answering one soon after. Then, the phone fell silent.

"Breqlynn?" Remi guessed.

"Yes," Gideon answered, tossing his phone on the bed by the window. "I was a second away from being called a 'Wifter.'"

A giggle escaped as Remi moved over to make room for Gideon. "Good thing you answered in time. That sounds too much like an old, prewar dusting product," she finished as he settled beside her and pulled her close.

His queen's message had killed the mood but hadn't driven Gideon away. It was probably for the best, Remi tried to convince herself. Ever the gentleman, he hadn't wanted to "take advantage" of her before she'd decided to take advantage of him.

Resting her cheek on the junction between Gideon's pec and shoulder, Remi's free hand traveled across his muscled chest. His fingers laced with hers, staying the movement. "You need to rest. Tomorrow's journey to Vârcolac Turn will be tiring."

A jaw cracking yawn stifled Remi's planned protest. Snuggling closer against Gideon's heat, she turned her head and gave him a soft kiss over his heart. "Do-do," she whispered.

"What does that mean?" Gideon asked just as softly.

"Nighty-night," Remi answered through another yawn. Then, resting on her cheek on Gideon's pec once more, she soon fell asleep. The next thing she knew, morning had dawned.

I hope you liked this chapter. If you want to point out mistakes or want to leave a comment, I'd appreciate that! Also, if you enjoyed reading this chapter, please consider voting for it. Thank you!