Gabriel crossed the room, plucked the pencil from her hair.
Jacinda laughed and said, “What would I do without you, Prince?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Guess we’ll never know.”
He winked, then headed back behind the bar, finishing up a liquor order he’d started earlier.
They spent most of their waking moments together at Obsidian now, Jacinda working on her research or working behind the bar, Gabriel managing the club and dealing with endless security meetings, conferences with Cole and his brothers, and regular visits from Isabelle, whose magical infusions he, Dorian, and Colin required more often now.
Late at night, after hours, Gabriel and Jacinda would walk home together, always ending up at her place. He stayed with her now, holding her while they slept in her bed, his own too fraught with the memories of Viansa’s first appearance. When the sun roused them from sleep, they’d make breakfast together, or occasionally pick something up from one of the many diners or delis in the neighborhood on their walk to Obsidian, then get back to work. The club. The search for Viansa. The search for the binding spell. The search for the cure.
It was a routine now—theirroutine—a thing that had snuck up on him, embedding itself in his life long before he recognized what was happening.
And now that he had, he didn’t want to let it go.
* * *
“You’re doing it again,” Jacinda slammed another book shut and glanced up from her seat at the cocktail table, her eyes bleary, hair slipping from the bun.
“We both know you love it when I hover.” Gabriel stepped behind her and grabbed her shoulders, massaging away the knots. “Now tell me what’s really bothering you.”
She rolled her neck, easing into his touch. “We’ve been at this for weeks. No clues in these books—at least, none that we’ve been able to put together. Cole hasn’t figured out what’s going on with Duchanes and the mages. And worse, there’s been no sign of my sister since the big stake-and-run.”
“She’ll turn up, Jace. She didn’t come all this way just to pack it in and go home.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Lying low? It’s not her style, Prince. Viansa may have big plans, but she’s not strategic—she’s dramatic. Something major is brewing, and I’m worried none of us will see it coming. And this time, we might not be able to fix it.”
Gabriel said nothing. She was right on all counts, and every last one of her worries was his as well.
Jacinda pushed her fingers into her hair and sighed, her head drooping low. “I’m starting to feel like the walls are closing in on me. I can’t even remember the last time I felt actual dirt beneath my feet.”
“Not a fan of concrete?” he teased. “We grow some of the very best of it here in New York.”
“Yes, and the official state tree is the orange construction cone. Impressive.” Jacinda laughed, but Gabriel heard the longing in her voice.
During his time in New York, then in Las Vegas, then back to New York again, Gabriel had all but forgotten what it was like to regularly walk on grass, to look up at night and see the stars, to hear the song of crickets or the howl of the winter wind absent the cacophony of urban existence.
Before Jacinda had come into his life, he’d been too focused on building his empire and outrunning his ghosts to really notice his bleak environment, much less care about his severed connection from the natural world.
But Jacinda cared. She was an earth witch. She thrived on that connection—needed it, perhaps now more than ever.
“I want you to do three things for me,” he said suddenly. “Put all this stuff away, call Maritza and tell her she’s in charge here tonight, and meet me back here in fifteen minutes.”
“But… Why?” She tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes, new light sparkling through their blue depths. “What are you plotting, Prince?”
Gabriel leaned in close, kissing the shell of her ear.
“Something dirty,” he whispered. “Somethingverydirty.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nearly two hundred years had passed since Gabriel last visited the Enchanted Gardens, and the sight still had the power to steal his breath.
Tucked away in a hidden corner of the Bronx, the indoor park had been vast and beautiful in his memory, but now—seeing it through Jacinda’s eyes—it felt even grander, with hundreds of criss-crossing dirt pathways that wound through an arboretum, a bird sanctuary, and flowering gardens exploding with colorful blooms, all of it immune to winter’s icy touch.
Tonight, at Gabriel’s request—and with a sizable transfer of funds no man could refuse—the park had been closed to the public.
“What is this place?” Jacinda whispered, wonder shining in her eyes as he escorted her to the rosebushes—the area he knew she’d most love.
