As far as Jaci knew, no one had practiced demonic hexwork in centuries. Even her own dark work with the resurrection amulets paled in comparison.
“What’s the curse, precisely?” She finally turned to face him again. “You’re still standing here, so I assume it’s not the sort of thing that kills you on a whim.”
“A whim, no. This curse is more of the slow-torture variety.” He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them again. His eyes carried a dark warning, one he didn’t need to put into words.
There was only one reason he’d trust her with this.
Because he knew, as much as she’d tried to hide it, that Jaci needed him as much as he needed her. Maybe even more.
After all, Gabriel could buy himself another dark witch. But Jaci? She had nowhere else to run.
“Think of it as reverse evolution,” he continued. “From vampire passing as a human, with all the luxuries and comforts that come with it, to a vampire suffering as a gray. Desperate. Hungry. Feral. And it’s not just me who’s at risk. It’s our entire bloodline, including all future sired vampires.”
Jaci blew out a breath and finally poured her tea, nearly forgotten in the wake of his visit. There was enough left in the pot for a second cup, so she made one for the vampire.
“And the witch?” She passed him the mug. “What do you know about her?”
Surprising the hell out of her, he took it, nodding his thanks. “Nothing. The curse is hundreds of years old, and most of what we know is hearsay.”
“What about—”
“I’ve told you all I know, Jacinda.” The warning flashed in his eyes once more, the steam from the mug only making him look more ominous. “Either you can help me, or you’ve got thirty seconds to devise another use for yourself. I’m not running a charity.”
“You’re not? And yet you’re so kind and generous.” With a roll of her eyes, Jaci gestured for him to follow her to the dining table, where she’d already started laying out her tools. She selected a silver athame from the pile, along with her favorite Tarot cards and a ritual bowl made of copper. None of the items had been properly consecrated in her new space yet, but she didn’t know when the vampire would grace her with his presence again.
Or when he’d succumb to the curse.
They had to act now.
“Sit,” she commanded. And for once, her vampire obeyed.
Chapter Eight
With a tight grip on her athame, Jaci sat in the chair beside Gabriel and reached for his hand.
Big mistake.
He jerked away so fast he knocked his mug from the table, sending it to the polished floor in an epic crash that would’ve pissed her off had the mug or the floor actually been hers.
Jaci sighed.
The vampire glowered.
“Newsflash, Prince,” she said. “If you want me to figure out what kind of curse is messing with your blood, I’ll need to use—you know—youractualblood.”
“So you can devise some new way to curse me?” He laughed as ifshewere the crazy one, ignoring the shattered mug and river of tea at his feet. “Hard pass.”
Jaci shrugged, trading her athame for the bird book she’d found the other night. “Let me know when you’ve come up with a better idea. Since you’re so experienced in witchcraft and dark magic and ancient blood curses that can wipe your whole family off the map, I’m sure you’ll think of something crafty. Get it? Crafty?”
Based on those brooding, angry eyes, she was pretty sure he didn’t get it.
But hedidgive in.
Reluctantly, he extended a hand, his eyes never leaving hers, that intense stare making her shiver. It didn’t help that he smelled so fucking good, and the tight fit of his sweater had her imagining what it would feel like to run her hands over the clean, firm lines of his shoulders and back…
Damn, girl. Youreallyneed a better imagination. And maybe a vibrator…
Ditching the bird book and her lusty thoughts, she took his hand in hers and turned it over, pushing up his sleeve to expose his wrist. His skin was cool to the touch, which didn’t surprise her, but the rapid flutter of his pulse did. She watched it closely, that delicate vein throbbing below the surface, mirroring the beat of her own heart.
