“The grays are already dead.”
“No more than I.” Crowding into her space once more, he ran a finger along her jawline, his touch as deceptively soft as his whisper. “Would you bring me back? Breathe your venomous words, deliver me from hell’s doorstep?”
Her heart pounded with new fury, so loud and defiant he sensed the disturbance beneath her skin. The hot, sudden rush of her blood unleashed a scent that nearly brought him to his knees.
With hunger.
With desire.
His fangs burned to break free, his control slipping…
“You know nothing,” she spat, jerking away from his touch and shattering his momentary trance. “Nothing about me. Nothing about my lifeormy magic.”
“Resurrection is a devil’s bargain—thatI know. When Death finally claims you, be certain he’ll demand a reckoning.”
She lowered her eyes, cheeks darkening. With shame, frustration, or pleasure, Gabriel hadn’t a clue.
Dorian thought Jacinda was innocent, forced into the work by a stronger, deadlier foe. Duchanes. Chernikov. Any number of rival vamps or demons looking to make a move, using the witch as their own personal warhead.
But necromancy wasn’t a natural talent. Wasn’t something a witch or mage picked up on a whim—even under threat. It was a dark, unwieldy thing, a razor-sharp skill set whose cultivation took years of study and intense dedication. Defying death went beyond even the darkest of known magics, a practice so vile it could seep into your soul and eradicate all traces of humanity.
Another beat passed. Two. No answers, no confessions, no sounds but the muted din of the cleanup crew downstairs.
With a deep sigh, the witch dragged the back of her hand across her brow, leaving a pale smudge in the grime. “Look, Prince. As much fun as this is, Ireallyneed a shower, and you should probably get back to pulling the wings off butterflies or whatever it is you do for fun.”
“Butterflies? No, not exactly.” Gabriel fingered a lock of her moonlight hair, silky as a flower petal, resisting the urge to press it to his lips.
A deep tremor rumbled through her body.
In a flash he dropped the lock of hair and grabbed her face, jerking it upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her breath caught, heartbeat clamoring, eyes wide.
The pressure of his touch was light enough, but they both knew he could shatter her jaw.
Gabriel hovered close—so close he could see the galaxies swirling in the blue depths of her irises. So close a breath could turn into a kiss.
In a dark whisper, he said, “Why do you insist on making this more difficult than it needs to be?”
Her gaze scorched the air between them. “Because I’mnoone’s fucking butterfly.”
A twitch of his lips, a smile nearly set loose.
It wouldn’t do.
Gabriel released her and turned toward the small bar at the corner of the room, spared the destruction that had decimated the main level. He reached for a bottle of bourbon, poured two glasses.
Over his shoulder, he said, “They say my brother has a tender heart.”
She laughed, a sound full of nails and teeth. “Yes, you bloodsuckers are all such lovable softies.”
“He’s forbidden me from killing you. And while I’m not in the habit of taking orders from my brother—and I despise witches almost as passionately as I despise demons—I’m feeling sentimental today.” He turned toward her and held out one of the glasses. “Lucky for you.”
Daggers glinted in those bright eyes, but she took the offered beverage, downing it in a few gulps. “Unlucky for you, King Tender-Heart hasn’t forbiddenmefrom killing anyone.”
Gabriel’s laughter finally escaped. Dry and brittle, like dust blown from a long-forgotten heirloom. Crossing the room, he turned to her once more and said, “You’re my prisoner, witch. Stripped of your charms and amulets. Exhausted. Easy prey. Think you can take me down? Have a go.”
Without hesitation she touched her neck, lips muttering a silent hex—all part of the show. Short of a demon’s hellfire, the well-aimed throw of a sharp stake, or averylong sword, nothing could kill a vampire at any sort of distance.
“Do you feel it, Prince?” Her husky whisper rolled over Gabriel’s flesh, making him shiver.
