He should have expected as much. Gabriel leveled a glare at him. “I’m not a complete jerk, Doctor. I won’t use women like that.” He paused before he went on, bringing his anger at the dishonorable suggestion under control. “You helped my friends.”

“Both Mr. Woodford’s and Mr. LeSang’s problems were different, not …” —he searched for the right word—“physical like yours.”

Gabriel’s chest tightened. Yes, physical. And a vampire couldn’t alter his physical form. It was set in stone. It was the exact reason why his face was marred by a scar reaching from his chin to the top of his right ear. He’d received the wound when he was human. Had he been injured as a vampire, there would have never been a scar, and his face would be untouched.

Two strikes against him—already the hideous scar scared plenty of women away, and once he dropped his pants— He shuddered and looked back at the doctor who patiently sat in his chair.

“They both claimed you used unorthodox methods,” Gabriel baited him.

Dr. Drake gave a noncommittal shrug. “What one might call unorthodox, another might deem natural.”

That was a nonanswer if there ever was one. Subtle hints wouldn’t get Gabriel the information he sought. He cleared his throat and nudged forward on his chair.

“Amaury mentioned you had certain connections.” He emphasized the word “connections” in such a way the doctor couldn’t mistake what Gabriel was referring to.

The almost unperceivable straightening of the doctor’s body would have escaped most others, but not Gabriel. Drake had understood only too well what he was after.

The doctor’s lips tightened. “Maybe I can refer you to another physician among my connections who might be able to help you more than I can. Nobody here in San Francisco, of course, since I’m still the only medically trained vampire here,” he confided.

Gabriel wasn’t surprised at the revelation: since vampires weren’t susceptible to human illnesses, very few became doctors. Given that San Francisco had a vampire population of under a thousand, it was lucky to have even one medical professional within its city limits.

“I see we both agree that we’re not a good match,” the doctor went on.

Gabriel knew he had to act now before the doctor dismissed him completely. When Drake moved to the Rolodex on his desk, Gabriel rose from his chair.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary—”

“Well, then, it was a pleasure meeting you.” The doctor stretched his hand out, his relaxed face now showing relief.

With a light shake of his head, Gabriel dismissed the gesture. “I doubt the Rolodex contains the name of the person I’m looking for anyway. Am I right?” He kept all malice out of his voice, having no intention of alienating the man. Instead, he let a half-smile curve his lips.

A flash in Drake’s blue eyes confirmed he knew exactly who Gabriel was talking about. It was time to bring in the big guns. “I’m a very rich man. I can pay whatever you wish,” Gabriel offered. In his nearly one hundred and fifty years as a vampire, he’d amassed a fortune.

The doc’s cocked eyebrow indicated interest. There was a hesitation in Drake’s movement, but seconds later he pointed to the chairs. They both sat back down.

“What makes you think I’m interested in your offer?”

“If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be sitting.”

The doctor nodded. “Your friend Amaury speaks very highly of you. I trust he’s well now.”

If Drake wanted to chit-chat, Gabriel would indulge him, but not for long. “Yes, the curse is broken. I understand that one of your acquaintances was instrumental in figuring out how the curse could be reversed.”

“Maybe. But understanding how to fix something and fixing it are two different things. And as I see it, Amaury and Nina reversed his curse all by themselves. No outside help was needed.”

“Unlike in my case?”

The doctor shrugged, a gesture Gabriel was getting increasingly tired of. “I don’t know. There might be a perfectly plausible explanation for your ailment.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Let’s cut to the chase, Drake. It’s not an ailment. What plausible explanation am I going to give a woman who sees me naked?”

“Mr. Giles—”

“At least call me Gabriel. I think we’re past the Mr. Giles stage.”

“Gabriel, I understand your predicament.”

Gabriel felt heat rise inside his chest as anger churned up, something that was becoming more common as he dealt with his predicament. “Do you? Do you really understand what it feels like to see the disgust and fear in the eyes of a woman you want to make love to?” Gabriel swallowed hard. He’d never made love to a woman, never truly made love. Sex with prostitutes wasn’t love. Sure, he could use mind control like the doctor had suggested and lure some unsuspecting woman into his bed and do with her whatever he wanted, but he’d vowed never to sink that low. And he’d never broken that vow.