It seemed to unleash something, that whisper. An uncomfortable itch in his chest. A flicker of doubt in his mind.
“Is it just the dryness in the air?” she mused. “Ash from one of themanyvampires you and your friends staked last night?”
Gabriel’s throat tightened. Ached.
She brought her fingertips to her lips and blew away imaginary ashes, a child wishing on dandelion seeds. Then, through a menacing grin, “Or maybe,bloodsucker, I’m not such easy prey after all.”
Chapter Two
“Need some water, Prince? A lozenge?” The witch frowned, shiny black fingernails fluttering over her collarbone like beetles. “Cherry’s my favorite, but they say honey-lemon’s better for a scratchy throat.”
Gabriel coughed. The tightness in his chest progressed to a burn that quickly stole his breath.
He panted like a dog, hands trembling as he reached for her. “If you’ve… poisoned… I’ll kill—”
“No. You won’t.” She lowered her hand and flashed a saccharine-sweet smile.
At once his throat relaxed. Breath rushed back into his lungs, clear and crisp. The tremor vanished, hands steady once again.
Gabriel blinked away the blur in his eyes. Couldn’t be certain it’d even happened—already, his memory of the last few seconds was fading. He took another breath. Pressed a hand to his chest, testing his heart.
Still beating, for fuck’s sake.
“Feeling better?” she cooed.
Bloody hell. He stalked toward her again, done with the games. Done with the niceties. Done with all of it. The sooner he could set her straight, the sooner he could escape her intense presence. “I need three things from you, witch.”
She glanced at her fingernails, calm and collected. “You and every other bloodsucker in this city. Take a number, Prince.”
“One, you’ll reveal the location of your former vampire master. If you don’t know his location, you’ll help me discern it by any means necessary. Two—”
“I already told you, I have no idea—”
“Two, you’ll break a blood curse—dark magic, demon-bought, definitely in your wheelhouse.”
“Excuseme? Curses aren’t—”
“Three, you’ll confess your crimes and accept your punishment.”
“Ah, and there it is, folks.” Jacinda rolled her eyes. “The final threat of a desperate vampire. Also, a boring one. Confess your crimes and accept your punishment? Really? Did you practice that line in front of the mirror last night? I bet you did. That and the sexy eyebrow thing.”
“Sexy eyebrow thing?”
“Straight out of a vampire soap opera.”
Amusement stirred inside him, but he kept it in check—along with his sexy eyebrow—and swallowed another mouthful of bourbon. “I’m not prone to threats, witch. Or soap operas. Only promises.”
“Why don’t we just skip to the good part, then?” She made a slicing motion across her throat, then held out her glass for a refill, defeat finally settling on her shoulders. “What a fucking daythisturned out to be. TGIF, motherfuckers!”
Gabriel smiled. A real one, utterly unintentional.
Fuck.
He was starting to like this witch. The fire. The fight.
He poured them each another round.
“Tell you what.” He downed his drink and refilled his glass again, emptying the bottle. “I’ll let you pick two out of three. Player’s choice.”
