“Didn’t she tell you to bugger off?” Aiden asked.
“I didn’t say her help would be offered enthusiastically.”
Aiden glanced at the laptop, where Jacinda—as if she knew she was being watched at that precise moment—turned and extended a middle finger toward the exterior camera.
Aiden found it highly amusing. “Or evenwillingly, from the looks of things.”
“We have an understanding, the witch and I.” Gabriel shut the laptop. “Or we will, once she accepts her predicament.”
“And if she doesn’t?” he asked.
Gabriel clenched his fist, the veins rising beneath his tattoos. Isabelle’s magic was already fading. “Then I shall just have to be a bit more…persuasive.”
Chapter Seven
All sorts of magic happened while Jaci slept.
In the week since she’d been captured and locked away, someone had delivered groceries, including more fresh produce and an assortment of fresh baked H&H bagels in every possible flavor, with every possible topping.
Someone had delivered an artful arrangement of flowers and plants for the balcony and window boxes, including some culinary herbs she could use in both cooking and spellcraft.
Someone had delivered the exact shampoo and conditioner she’d requested, along with a bunch of soaps, lotions, and nail polishes she hadn’t.
And this morning, as she’d stumbled bleary-eyed to the living room after a restless night, she’d nearly crashed into a tower of boxes stacked just inside the door—all of her things from the basement at House Duchanes, mundane and magical alike.
House elves? Grocery fairies? Vampire henchmen? Jaci had no idea who’d delivered the goods—only that it wasn’t the vampire prince.
As far as Jaci knew, Gabriel Redthorne hadn’t bothered to grace her doorstep once since the day he’d unceremoniously abandoned her here.
Not that she was complaining. In all her years scrabbling to survive in New York, she’d never had so much peace and quiet, not to mention hot meals and a comfortable bed.
But…
What the hell was she supposed todowith herself? Gabriel had ordered her to track down Duchanes, but the vile bloodsucker didnotwant to be found—least of all by the witch who now worked for his enemy. And Gabriel hadn’t said another word about that mysterious curse, either.
Typical man. Vampire, demon, human, they were all the same. Make a mess, drop a woman in the middle of it, and expect her to clean it up while they gallivant around like royalty, jerking off and taking all the credit for someone else’s hard work.
Unfortunately for Jaci, Gabriel Redthornewasroyalty. Supernatural royalty. And she needed to stay in his good graces and do what he asked, no matter how badly it chapped her ass.
Besides, he’d saved her a trip back to Duchanes’ place. The fact that she’d never have to set foot in that house of horrors again filled her with an unreasonable amount of joy.
Followed by a slightly-more-reasonable amount of dread.
I hope weneverfind that bastard…
Shaking off old ghosts, she headed into the kitchen, desperately seeking caffeine. She’d just set her black vanilla tea to steep in the pot and dropped a sesame bagel into the toaster when the hairs on her arms stood on end, a crisp, wintery scent invading her senses.
“Just rolling out of bed, are we?”
“Shit!” She grabbed the closest weapon off the counter and spun around to face the invader.
Gabriel. Standing before her in all his late-afternoon glory, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted gray cashmere sweater, hair tousled, a few days’ worth of stubble lining his jaw, looking hotter than anyone had a right to. “If you’re planning to decapitate me with a butter knife, we’re going to be here a while.”
Huffing out a sigh, she set down the knife. “Damn it, Prince. You can’t just sneak up on a girl like that.”
“It’s my building, witch. I can come and go as I please, sneaking or otherwise.”
Fear gave way to annoyance, which quickly gave way to relief.
