“Don’t,” he whispered.
“Why not?” She mouthed the words, not even certain he’d heard them. Not even certain she knew what she was asking, what he was warning against, what the fuck was happening between them. For whatever reason, her mind turned to mush around this man—this monster—and despite the red alert from her nipples, she didn’t like it one bit.
He opened his eyes. Took a step backward, shaking his head as if his mind betrayed him too. “Oursisn’ta social arrangement, witch. You’re an acquisition, just like Bloodbath, claimed by the royal family from a lesser foe to be put to use or put to death.”
Wow, tell me how youreallyfeel, dickhead.
Swallowing the inexplicable burn his words left in her chest, Jaci forced a hollow laugh. “Thanks for the reminder, Prince. For a minute there, I thought you were trying to get into my pants. What’s left of them, anyway.”
She’d meant it as a joke, but the moment the words were out, a flash of anger rippled through his muscles, quivering beneath his blood-caked clothing. He spun around in a blur and stalked toward the exit, leaving a gust of winter in his wake.
Yanking open the door, he paused on the threshold and turned to issue one last command. “Take the day to settle in and gather your wits, Jacinda. Starting tomorrow, you’ll work on locating Duchanes.”
“What about the curse?”
“Priority one, Duchanes. I’ll inform you when that changes.”
“But I need my—”
The door slammed shut. The vampire was gone, his sudden absence taking up even more space than his presence.
“—grimoire,” she finished, then slumped against the island counter, wondering what the fuck just happened.
She hadn’t imagined the fire between them, that spark back at the club, the crackling flames here in the kitchen. It was real, but it was like they’d both been entranced by some otherworldly force.
He’d snapped out of it first.
And he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
His earlier words rang in her head like a warning bell.
I despise witches almost as passionately as I despise demons…
Jaci wondered what he’d do if he knew the truth—that his “acquisition from a lesser foe” was actually a two-for-one. A witchanddemon, born and bred, all rolled up into one fucked-up little package who couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried, get her shit together.
“Jacinda Colburn,” she admonished, “you are a hell-hot magical mess.”
Hellfire flared once more in her chest, itching for a worthy target. She had half a mind to waltz out that door, chase him down the hall, and light his ass up like a firecracker. One taste of her dark flame, and that ice-cold vampire prick with his stupid smirk and eyes the color of a misty-morning forest would be incinerated from the inside out, turned to ash before he could even bark another insult.
Hell, she’d almost done it in the VIP room, just to prove her point about not being easy prey.
Thankfully, common sense won out—thenandnow. With no coven of her own, Renault in hiding and his allies dead or scattered to the winds, and no friends or family to speak of, Jaci was on her own in every way that counted, as broke and homeless as she’d been when she’d first crash-landed in this city seven years ago.
By now the Redthornes had seized the rest of Renault’s property, which included the basement she’d lived in and most of her worldly possessions. Without a place to study and practice her magic, she had no hope of surviving, let alone completing the spells she’d spent her entire adult life trying to master.
The spells that would free her father’s soul from hell, reunite it with his body, and buy her that brand-new life she so desperately wanted.
She glanced around the apartment once more, acceptance settling into her heart. This was the best she could hope for right now. Whatever his true motives—and she wasn’t dumb enough to think it was just a matter of locating Renault and unraveling some old curse—Gabriel clearly needed her, and that meant job security. A roof over her head and food in her belly. A chance to end her father’s torment.
Besides, she’d been in worse predicaments before, and she was pretty damned sure life wasn’t done fucking with her yet, either. That didn’t mean it was time to curl up on the floor like a dead centipede. First of all, she had much better legs. But also, she had things to do.
Circumstances changed, but the plan was still the plan. Craft those spells, save her father, and get the fuck out of New York. By the time hell’s demons realized she’d betrayed them, it would be far too late for them to do anything about it. Jaci and her father would be off the supernatural radar for good, living the high life on some no-name tropical island, leaving all things magical in the proverbial dust. Demon dust, vampire dust, Jaci didn’t care. So long as she didn’t have to step in it ever again.
She took a deep, cleansing breath, feeling marginally better than she had when she’d first walked into the place. Now that the vampire was gone, she could finally think. Could finally get down to business.
Step one, take a shower.
Step two, make some coffee.
