Thankfully, Gabriel didn’t push.
“That was smart thinking,” he finally said, looping another curl around his finger. “About the beach.”
“There are few things that can contain energy like that without causing mass chaos. Even the ocean had a hard time with it, but in the end, I knew she’d be able handle it.”
“Just like you.” Gabriel smiled, soft and warm. Then, his voice falling to a whisper, “I still don’t know the right thing to say, Jace. All I know is when I see the pain in your eyes, I want to erase it.”
Jace.The casualness. The comfort. She wanted to wrap herself in it, to fall asleep in its arms knowing it would still be there when she woke up again.
But she’d given up on those kinds of fairy tales long ago.
One sweet morning with tea in bed and his hands in her hair didn’t change that.
Jaci set her mug on the nightstand and forced a smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Prince, but… Thanks for—you know. Saving me.Again.”
Gabriel didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh. He shook his head, guilt filling his eyes. “I never should’ve allowed you to put yourself in that situation in the first place. I should’ve known better than to trust a demon.”
“That’s on me.”
“No, it isn’t.” He cupped her face, drawing close, his brow creased with pain and regret, his touch as soft as a feather. “I warned you I would destroy you, little moonflower.” His voice was a broken whisper, the weight of his guilt heavy in his eyes.
But whatever he felt guilty about, whatever pain he’d inadvertently caused her last night, whatever pain he thought he could’ve prevented, all of it paled in comparison.
Jaci—vile, wicked, evil—had actually considered carving out his heart. That was her grand plan. The Hail Mary that would somehow save her father, consequences be damned.
The image flashed through her mind’s eye, his heart beating in her hand, dark blood running between her fingers, warm and wet. Gabriel’s body, resurrected before he could turn to ash, an empty husk staring back at her with vacant eyes, his own bloody heart calling to the unfathomable hunger inside him.
Deep down she knew she couldn’t have gone through with it—even in his most hateful moments. Not when push came to shove and blade came to flesh.
But the fact that she’d even considered it? The very thought of it filled her with a shame so dark and heavy, it nearly drove Jaci to her knees.
Not because she was a good person. Not because she’d seen the error of her ways. Not because she wanted redemption and forgiveness for a sin she hadn’t even confessed.
Because somehow, through all the threats and fights and teasing and touching and heat, through all the risks, through all the dark magic and epic, life-saving heroics, Jaci had fallen for the vampire prince.
The realization drew her up short, making her gasp, making her ache, making her hollow.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, little moonflower,” he whispered.
Her tears blurred him into two versions, her dark vampire captor and her white knight, both of them filling her heart.
“Kiss me,” she breathed.
Gabriel’s eyes widened, his sharp intake of breath audible. He knew what it meant—so much more than a kiss, so much more than a dare—but Jaci was done pretending. Maybe it would all crash and burn the moment she told him about Viansa and the curse, about who she really was, all the secrets he thought he already knew. Hell, maybe it would crash and burn right now, before their lips even touched. Maybe he’d turn his back on her, order her to return to her own bed, shore up those walls of ice and never let her find another crack.
But just as he’d slaughtered her enemies, just as he’d waded into the sea to save her, those were the risks she was willing to take.
Trembling before him, Jaci held his gaze, awaiting his answer, terrified of what it would mean if he kissed her. If he didn’t.
Finally, after a thousand lifetimes, Gabriel cradled her face, his touch kind and gentle and warm, as if he were afraid she was a bubble he might burst. The pad of his thumb arced back and forth across her lips, and she gasped at the intimacy of his touch. She’d never felt anything so soft, so erotic. Never allowed it.
“Tell me to stop, Jacinda Colburn,” he whispered, his eyes full of some new fire. Gone was the frost, replaced now with the tender greens and golds of new spring buds after a lush rain.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, but Jaci smiled. In a trembling voice, she said, “Don’t stop. Just kiss me, Gabriel Redthorne.”
He brought his mouth to hers, lips brushing, soft as a delicate breeze, teasing, hopeful. He drew her closer, sliding his hands into her hair and finally, blissfully, beautifully, pressing his mouth to hers. Jaci’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she parted her lips, drinking in his warm breath, shivering at the gentle exploration of his tongue, hot and velvet soft, tracing her lips, then slipping between them, tasting and teasing.
A low, desirous moan rose from his chest, vibrating across her lips, and she opened wider. Gabriel deepened their kiss, his tender teases quickly growing urgent, hot, devouring. Pleasure arced down her chest, down to her belly, down to her core. Gabriel’s fingers tightened in her hair, and he guided her back against the pillows, slowly climbing on top of her, never once breaking their kiss.
