“I expect you to obey me,” he growled, the threat in his gravelly voice turning an otherwise panty-melting British accent into a thing of nightmares. “If you think I’m above making a gruesome scene on a public street, feel free to push me.”
Jaci didn’t need to push him. Crazy eyes never lie—she’d learnedthatfrom her sister.
A different sort of shiver threatened to overtake her, but she fought it off.
The vampire continued his brooding glare. Out there in the daylight, his eyes were a lighter shade of green than she’d first thought, like new moss clinging to an old stone.
“Are you coming willingly, witch, or are we already renegotiating our terms? Not off to the best start, it seems.”
She opened her mouth to tell him just how faroffhe could gofuck, but then thought better of it.
Bide your time, girl. Pick your battles.
As much as Jaci hated to admit it—hated getting stuck in this ridiculous predicament with yetanothercocky vampire who thought witches were their personal property—she needed him. Even more than she needed a shower and a bucket of bleach and some new heels, which was saying something.
Besides, as monstrous as Gabriel Redthorne was, Renault Duchanes was worse.
Renault wouldalwaysbe worse.
Blowing out a heavy sigh, Jaci gestured toward the door. “Lead the way, Prince.”
Chapter Four
The fourteenth-floor apartment was sunny, spacious, and aseriousupgrade from the perpetually dank basement her former vampire “master” had stashed her in.
It was alsonotGabriel Redthorne’s residence. As an earth witch with a nose for magic, Jaci was good with scents. The royal vampire’s was cold and mysterious, like evergreens in winter, like crushed mint on ice, like something fervently alive trapped beneath an eternal snow.
This place held no trace of it.
“Who lives here?” she asked, bracing for the answer as she eyed up the living area—spacious, pretty, fully furnished. French doors led to a balcony outside, a café table and two chairs waiting invitingly in the sunshine.
A grim smirk turned up the corner of his mouth. “A newly acquired witch eager to prove her usefulness.”
“So you’re paying my rent now, vampire?”
“Think of it as a bonded arrangement, only without the actual bond, without the promise of my protection, without unfettered access to my blood for your spellcraft, and withoutanyfurther obligation from me—aside from allowing you to keep existing.”
Jaci narrowed her eyes, trying to see through his self-satisfied mockery.
It was a trap. Had to be. Gabriel believed she’d willfully tried to murder his brother, not to mention all the other crimes he’d rattled off earlier. Now he was putting her up in damn-near luxury accommodations? Without supervision?
She peered over his shoulder into a short hallway that led to the back of the apartment, half expecting it to be overrun with a writhing horde of grays. It would serve her right, getting mauled by the very ghouls she’d helped unleash on this city.
Guilt simmered in her gut, but beyond Gabriel’s unnervingly motionless physique, she found nothing but white walls and gleaming hardwoods, the faint smell of fresh paint floating on the air like an invitation to a brand-new life.
An invitation witches like Jaci never received. Not without a whole lot of strings and sharp objects attached.
“The kitchen is fully stocked,” he continued, gesturing around the open-plan apartment like some kind of vampire real estate agent. “Down the hall you’ll find the bedroom and bath, toiletries, linens, clothing. If there’s anything else you need, leave a list outside the door and one of my associates will attend to it.”
“Your vampire henchmen are now my personal shoppers?” She stifled a laugh, picturing a bunch of fanged goons in black leather jackets selecting ripe mangoes from the market, picking up her feminine supplies, rifling through the half-price underwear bin at Macy’s for her size.
Gabriel folded his arms across his chest but said nothing. Not unless sighs and grunts could be considered a language.
Jaci headed into the kitchen, always her favorite spot, trying to tamp down her bubbling curiosity. The cupboards were the same gleaming oakwood as the floors, the walls painted a deep olive, the countertops ridiculously spacious. A massive granite-topped island stretched across the center, perfect for making spell jars and hex bags. A bay window took up most of the far wall, a large pantry nestled in beside it. Against her better judgment, she was already picturing the shelves stocked with jars of dried herbs and other magical ingredients, the sunny window seat overflowing with her favorite plants.
The whole place was a dream.
“What’s the catch, Prince?” She tried to sound more irritated than excited, but judging from the smug look on his no-right-to-be-that-handsome face, she didn’t pull it off.
