When their mouths finally parted for breath, Gabriel looked bewildered, his eyes glassy, a smile curving his lush mouth. He was hard for her, his dick pressing urgently against her thigh, making her shamelessly wet.
“What areyouthinking, Prince?” she teased, tears still brimming in her eyes. Happiness. Fear. Shame. New love. So much she couldn’t contain it.
“I’m thinking about extending that overdue invitation into my bed.” His smile turned devious, and his earlier threat whispered through her mind
If I ever invite you into my bed, the things I’ll do to you there will not be quick. They’ll not be polite. And you can call it a one-and-done deal all you’d like, but I promise you, witch. The only word you’ll be uttering when I’m through with you is more…
Desire flooded her body, her nerves on fire, her breath shallow. She reached for his face, running her fingers along his stubbled jaw. She’d never wanted anything so badly.
But she couldn’t. Not until she told him all the things she needed to say.
“Gabriel, I—”
His eyes went suddenly wide. Maniacally wide. Pained. And then he collapsed on her chest, a heavy weight crushing her into the mattress.
“Gabriel?” She pushed against him. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
“Gabriel?” she tried once more. Desperate. Terrified.
And then…
A sound from across the room. A flicker of light. A change in the air.
Panic rushed through her body, tingling in her limbs, making her hot and prickly. Jaci slid out from beneath him and lifted her head.
And there, just beyond the foot of his bed, an old foe slithered from the shadows, her blue eyes bright, her black-painted mouth twisted into the scowl that had haunted Jaci’s nightmares for her entire life.
“Hello, Lab Rat,” the cruel mouth said, stretching into a grin. “Sorry to interrupt this portrait of domestic bliss, but… Wait! Actually, I’m not sorry at all.” She hopped onto the bed at Jaci’s feet, bouncing on her knees like a child. “Didn’t I tell you the reunion would be epic?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The doors to Obsidian opened, ushering in the cold December wind and giving Gabriel a glimpse of the wasteland outside. The skeletal remains of St. Mark’s Place jutted awkwardly from the ground, snow collecting on their rusty bones. Silence whispered across the barren streets.
From his seat at the bar, he turned toward the newcomer, hope rising.
Jacinda?
But… no. It wasn’t his witch who’d finally found her way home. It was a woman he’d never seen before—tight gold dress, glossy black hair, a painted smile to match. The dark lipstick made her teeth look exceptionally white. Exceptionally sharp.
She wasn’t human, wasn’t a witch, wasn’t a vampire or shifter. He couldn’t quite get a read on her.
“We’re closed,” he said gruffly. He went back to his glass of bourbon, but the liquor transformed from auburn to black before his eyes. When he tried to drink it, it turned to ash on his tongue.
“Please, Mr. Redthorne. It’s so cold out there. So lonely. I just need a warm place to wait for my ride. Maybe a drink?”
Gabriel scoffed, spitting the ashes from between his lips. If she thought that painted smile would work on him, she was in for an even colder night then the one she’d left outside those doors.
But he didn’t see the harm in letting her have a drink.
He went around behind the bar and grabbed two clean glasses. Opened a fresh bottle of bourbon and poured one for each of them, not bothering to ask if that’s what she’d wanted.
The scent of the alcohol hit him, familiar. It was the right color too, no ash. But… something was wrong.
Obsidian was his club, but why were they closed? Where were the patrons? Where were the bartenders? The staff? The one with the silver hair… What was her name?
“Something wrong, friend?” the woman asked, so close to him now he could feel the heat rising off her body. She smelled like fire. Felt like it too.
Gabriel blinked, his vision blurring, then righting again. “Do I… know you?”
