Athishand.
The realization arrowed through his heart all over again, shredding him.
“She did,” Colin said. “It was reckless and brave, and when she wakes up tomorrow, I’ll need to decide what comes first: the gratitude or the lecture. Believe me, brother, she’ll be getting both from me.”
He smiled, but Gabriel could no longer share in the humor. “The stake… I would have incinerated Charlotte. My brother’s future wife. His queen. My sister-in-law.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Gabriel. Viansa—”
“Jacinda jumped in front of her,” he said, tightening his hold on her. “Why would shedothat?”
“I suspect it’s because she’s got a good heart.”
“A heart I very nearly skewered.”
“Ours is not a peaceful existence. It never will be.” Colin clapped him on the shoulder, his eyes as soft and kind as his voice. “Make peace withthat, brother, or you’ll end up following in our father’s footsteps, straight to the grave.”
Chapter Nineteen
The rest of the week passed in restless agony as Jaci waited to hear from Gabriel—the kind of agony that couldn’t be chased away with one of Colin’s painkillers or a few stiff drinks.
Her physical wounds had healed quickly. But her heart? That was another story.
Why the fuck had he been avoiding her?
Since the attack on Obsidian that’d left one shifter dead and Jaci herself as close to the Big Sleep as she’d ever ventured, Colin had visited her twice each day, monitoring her vitals, checking on her progress. Last night, he’d finally removed her bandages and declared her eighty percent back to normal.
Charley had shown up that very first morning with enough food to feed an army, enough cosmetics to treat every witch in the city to a luxurious spa day, and all the streaming service passwords she possessed, as if she were determined to not only show her gratitude for the save, but to make up for all the years Jaci had spent without a real girlfriend.
Since then, she’d dropped in on Jaci every day during her lunch break, bringing soup and sandwiches from a French place near her office in Tribeca, redoing out Jaci’s nails even though the original manicure hadn’t even begun to chip.
Isabelle had also popped in regularly, brewing tea, swapping out new lore books and occult texts for the old, reading out passages she found relevant. They still hadn’t zeroed in on anything concrete about binding succubi in general, let alone about Viansa specifically, but not for lack of trying.
After all the horror of Monday’s attack, Jaci was still baffled about her sister’s vanishing act. The moment she’d jumped in front of Charley and caught the pointy end of that stake, Viansa vanished. No ominous threats, no indication about what she wanted Jaci to do with the hell gates.
The only clue she’d left in her wake was the look in her eyes. Jaci only caught the barest glimpse of it before the stake pierced her flesh, but it was there, clear as the morning sun.
Fear. True, unadulterated fear.
She hadn’t meant for Jaci to get hurt.
It was an unintentional show of her hand—one whose meaning Jaci hadn’t quite deciphered—but one that could possibly give them a leg up in the fight. Viansa could make all the threats she wanted, but for now, it seemed Jaci would be spared the worst of her wrath.
She wished she could say the same for the others.
New worry turned over in her stomach, making her queasy. She knew Gabriel was physically okay—Colin and Charley had confirmed it. He was just busy with security, they’d said. Busy filling in for her at Obsidian. Busy chasing down false leads about Viansa’s constantly-changing whereabouts,But don’t worry!they’d said.He sends his regards!
Jaci nodded and smiled and pretended to be okay with it all, but deep down, she was a red-hot mess.
She fucking missed the asshole. Missed his wintergreen scent. Missed his intense, brooding gaze. Missed the looming mass of him as he crowded into her space. She even missed their bickering.
Her memories of that night were still a little hazy—the attack itself was clear, but the rest came to her in pieces, mostly in her dreams. Gabriel returning to himself, the look of horror on his face when he realized what’d happened. Gabriel, sweeping her into his office, soothing her as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Voices overhead, hands on her body, sudden relief from the pain. Strong arms holding her close, tucking her into bed. The press of soft, warm lips against her temple.
She had the same dream every night—Gabriel kneeling at her bedside, trailing his fingers through her hair, whispering distraught apologies as if any of this was his fault.
Sometimes the dreams felt so real, so visceral, she’d awaken with a start, certain she could smell him. Certain she could feel his presence in the darkness. Certain she’d find him there, waiting for her to smile at him. To ask for another kiss.
But then she’d flick on the light, illuminating the same empty room, the same endless silence.
