“Catches,” he said. “Plural.”
Jaci laughed and rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”
“First, for obvious security reasons, the apartment will be monitored at all times, including the main living areas, the bedroom, the outdoor space, and the exits and exterior hallway. Your only true privacy is in the bathroom. All other rooms are fitted with cameras with a live feed.”
“Cameras?” Jaci’s excitement died in a flash, the faint taste of smoke roiling up from her lungs.
“Not in the bathroom,” he repeated.
“So you’ll spy on me when I eat and sleep, but not when I shower or pee? Wow, thanks for being so considerate.”
“Your cell phone will also be monitored.”
“Are you serious? No. That’s—that’s acompleteviolation.” She reached into her back pocket, only to come up empty.
Gabriel removed her cell from his shirt pocket and set it on the kitchen counter, again with that maddeningly sexy smirk-and-eyebrow combo she was pretty sure had caused the spontaneous loss of more panties, virginities, and dignities than there were supernaturals in this city. And rats. And supernatural rats.
When the hell had he swiped her phone? Last night, as she’d dashed into the wine cellar to avoid the slaughter? This morning, when he’d nearly bitten her artery in the VIP room? Right in her back pocket, millimeters from her ass, and she hadn’t even felt him lift the damn thing.
Not that it mattered. The only people she ever called or texted were Renault and his bloodsucking minions, and those assholes—the few that’d survived the Redthorne attack on Bloodbath—were long gone by now.
“Next,” he said, “you’ll have free rein of the apartment and balcony, but you’re not to leave the premises without an escort—myself or one of my associates. If you attempt to leave without my permission, our deal is null and void.”
“Deal. Right. You mean the part where you let me live to see another sunrise, provided I can give you what you want and obey your every command in the process?”
Gabriel cocked his head, cold eyes glittering like ice. “You’re free to counter, witch, but unless your negotiating skills are as finely honed as your necromancy, you’ll find yourself on the losing end.”
A draft rolled over her skin, poking its cold fingers through every tear in her clothes.
Rubbing her half-bare arms, Jaci turned toward the kitchen window and peered down onto St. Mark’s Place. The street was lined with bars and cafés and trinket shops, sidewalks bustling with people and dogs. Across the way, a guy with green dreadlocks stood on a plastic milk crate, waving his arms and warning about the end times.
“What if I just want to run out for a quick coffee?” she asked.
“No need. There’s an espresso machine on the counter, along with several varieties of beans, a grinder, sweeteners, syrups.”
“What about bagels? Pizza? Chinese?”
“Like I said, make a list. All of your requests will be accommodated.”
Soft and silent, her bare feet padded across the kitchen floor, one step, then another and the next. She didn’t remember telling herself to move, yet there she was, inching closer to him, swept up in his evergreen scent and the magnetic pull of his eyes and the thin line between danger and death she always found herself straddling. Balancing.
Yearning for.
“All of them?” she asked, voice thick with something that sounded annoyingly lusty.
Get it together, slut muffin!
Gabriel looked down at her again, towering a full head taller, a wall of muscle and ice. “Within reason, witch.”
“And who’s judge and jury on what’s reasonable?” Her breasts brushed against his chest, making her nipples ache.
Gabriel’s nostrils flared, heat gathering between them once more, and she wondered if he was thinking about that moment in the VIP room, just like she was. Remembering the way their bodies had melded together, however briefly. The brush of his lips on her skin, the heat of his touch on her body, two hearts banging against the walls like wild animals.
He lifted a hand to her hair, looping one of her curls around his finger like he’d done earlier. In a soft, seductive voice that belied the tension in his body, he said, “My intention isn’t to starve you, Jacinda, or keep you in squalor.”
“Then whatisyour intention?”
He closed his eyes. Shook his head. Breathed out her scent as though he needed to be rid of it, his deep exhale tickling her cheeks.
