Jacinda rested a hand on her hip, right over the spot he’d so recently touched. Anger radiated in hot waves from her skin. Even her blood smelled like scorched earth.
Like hellfire.
When she spoke again, her words came through gritted teeth. “From now on, we’re going to make things super easy for everyone involved.”
“How’s that, witch?”
She pointed to the ceiling, where one story above, Obsidian’s inebriated guests fondled one another on the dance floor. “I’m going to tend that bar and suss out intel on our boy Renault, just as you’ve ordered me to—wait, scratch that. Just as you’veblackmailedme to do. And you’re—”
“Blackmailed? I hardly think that’s—”
“Andyou’regoing to keep right on doing what you do best.”
“Saving you from a bloody head injury? A demon attack? A brutal mauling by the very grays you—”
“Brooding in the shadows,” she said. “Criticizing the rest of the staff. Fighting with random demons. And flirting with anyone in a tight skirt until you convince some poor, naive girl to crawl into your bed after last call and warm your cold, dead heart.”
Her insults echoed across the cellar, full of venom.
“Jealous, witch?” Gabriel’s lips curved into a smile, and in a flash he grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart answered the call of her touch, pounding like the bass of Obsidian’s music. “In two-and-a-half centuries,nothinghas warmed this heart. But you’re more than welcome to try.”
Her own heart thundered in return, that dark, sexy blush spreading from her cheeks to her throat.
Without breaking their intense gaze, the witch stretched up on her toes. Her lips were close enough to bite.
Gabriel thought she might kiss him. Hoped for it, despite everything.
His heart raged beneath her hand, still pressed firmly to his chest.
Jacinda let out a soft hum. And then, with a twisted smirk, her deadly whisper fell against his lips, cloves and cinnamon, sugar and fire. “I would rather warm mygrave.”
Upstairs, the din of red-hot revelry faded, the DJ switching to a slower track. Quieter. Silence descended, and for several long beats, neither of them said another word. Neither took another breath. The air crackled between them like a flame biting into that first piece of firewood, licking, teasing, desperate to ignite.
“Stay out of my way, vampire,” the witch finally said. “And no more saving me.” She snatched her hand out from beneath his grasp, grabbed the wine from the shelf, and stalked past him, knocking into his shoulder as she did.
But Gabriel was faster. Gabriel wouldalwaysbe faster.
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. With a swift, single jerk he yanked her right back into his orbit.
Bodies collided.
The bottle of rare Bordeaux crashed to the floor.
Gabriel wrapped an arm around her and fisted her hair. Took one step, then another, backing her toward the wooden rack. Glass crunched under his boots, and the pungent scent of the ruined wine filled the air. Her shoulders hit the mahogany. A hundred bottles clattered.
“What… what the hell are you doing?” she gasped.
He slid his other hand up around her throat. Fuckingreveledin the fevered pulse thrumming against his palm. “The opposite of saving you.”
Chapter Twenty
Fangs descended like hot iron, a rush of raw hunger flooding his body. The demon he’d drained earlier had done little to sustain him, and now his primal need surged, mixing with other, baser needs until everything in him ached to sink deep inside her—his cock. His bite. His tongue.
Jacinda shoved against his chest, but Gabriel wouldn’t budge.
“I told you, Prince,” she hissed. “I’m no one’s butterfly.”
A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Not even mine?”
