by Sarah Piper
Dorian sipped his scotch, then shook his head, his shoulders heavy with some new weight. “Two dead Rogozin demons in as many nights, Gabriel? Kostya and Mikhail were on track to becoming some of Alexei’s top dogs.”
“Then Alexei needs to send his dogs back to obedience school.” Gabriel scoffed. “Be serious, brother. Kostya and Mikhail? They weren’t top of anything. Rogozin bought their loyalties from the bargain bin of Chernikov’s leftovers.”
“Rogozin’s organization has assimilated several dozen of Chernikov’s former associates, and many of them are proving quite reliable.”
“Foolish me. And here I thought our new demon allies were actually on our side.” Gabriel swallowed the last of his bourbon—his fifth in an hour. Sixth? He’d lost count. It did nothing to eradicate the filthy taste of demon blood from his mouth, but he didn’t want to eradicate that. He needed it. Needed the foulness of it to linger as long as possible, chasing away all thoughts of the witch. Her scent. Her blood.
His fucking need, growing darker and more terrifying by the day.
“Wasn’t Rogozin supposed to eliminate Chernikov’s organization?” he asked. “Why the fuck are there still so many of them skittering about this city like cockroaches?”
“Rogozin took down the organization, yes,” Dorian said. “And its leader. But a lot of those demons were little more than freelancers, eager to prove themselves to whoever holds the most power.”
“Never trust a man whose loyalties can be so easily swayed. Especially a man of questionable origins. And trust me—it doesn’t get more questionable than demons.” Gabriel tossed back his glass again, the emptiness of it pissing him off. He reached for Dorian’s scotch instead, finishing it in one slug.
Dorian sighed. “Regardless of their origins, brother, those demons are now Rogozin-sworn, which means they are our allies. You can’t go round killing them all, or—”
“For fuck’s sake, Dorian. If those demons had hurt Charlotte, you would’ve torn their balls off.”
“No.” Dorian clamped a hand over Gabriel’s shoulder, the look in his eyes dark and menacing. “I would’ve torn their balls off, set them on fire, and fed them to their former owners while all their friends watched. Do you know why?”
“Yes. Because Charlotte—”
“Because Charlotte isn’t some pet I’ve leashed for entertainment, to be cast off whenever she begins to bore me. She’s my life, Gabriel, and I bloody love her. If any demon so much as considered… oh.” The look in his eyes changed from menacing to confused, then irritated, then completely amused. “For fuck’s sake. Seriously?”
“Seriously what?”
“You’re in love with the witch?”
“Piss off.” Gabriel shook off his brother’s grip, the implication setting his blood to boil. “This has nothing to do with love. I don’t even like the woman.”
“Yet you assassinated two demons who—”
“Rogozin’s mutts attacked a woman in my club, putting my patrons in danger, damaging my property, and injuring my staff. I retaliated with a message that such offenses won’t be tolerated.”
Dorian scrutinized him for a long beat, his accusatory gaze practically burning the flesh from Gabriel’s face.
“And the witch?” Dorian asked.
“Jacinda Colburn is neither a pet nor a lover.”
Dorian laughed. “Then what is she?”
Gabriel looked out across the main floor again, past the vampires and shifters and demons, past the sleek marble and velvet decor, his eyes immediately finding Jacinda behind the bar, smiling at a mage couple as she mixed up their drinks. For all her darkness, she lit up the room like no one else could, a bright spot in a sea of gray and black. His patrons loved her. His staff adored her. And everything she touched, somehow, turned to magic.
He watched her a moment longer, admiring how effortless she made it look. Bartending, entertaining, looking runway-model gorgeous. She wore a champagne-colored dress tonight, strapless satin overlaid with black lace, and sheer black stockings that showed off her toned legs. Jeweled clips held her hair off her shoulders, creating a tumble of curls down her back. And always, that red lipstick, dark and seductive, driving him fucking insane.
He wanted that lipstick smeared all over his sheets. All over his cock…
“Right,” Dorian said.
Gabriel forced himself to meet his brother’s eyes. “She’s a person, Dorian. And she’s on our side. For fuck’s sake, brother. You’re the one who forbade me from killing her.”
“I don’t need your justifications, Gabriel. But understand something. These violent impulses of yours, while appreciated in certain situations…” Dorian shook his head, frustration mounting between them, as always. “Rogozin and his demons, however unpleasant, are our allies now. Those alliances don’t come with a no-conflict guarantee. Our arrangement simply means that when conflicts do arise, we seek diplomatic solutions rather than trial by combat. For fuck’s sake, brother. Our position is precarious enough.”
“I was quite diplomatic in the ripping out of their throats, I assure you.” Gabriel gripped the balcony railing, the taste of demon blood souring in his throat. “After what they did to her, they’re lucky I gave them such a quick demise.”
He scanned the club once more, his eyes finding Jacinda’s across the dark space. She smiled briefly, then returned her attention to Charlotte, who’d just entered the club.
“Careful.” Dorian fisted the back of Gabriel’s hair and gave him a quick shake, but there was no teasing in his tone.
It was a warning, plain and simple, and it wasn’t about his fondness for assassinating demons.
It was a warning Gabriel should’ve heeded the very first night they’d captured the witch and he’d decided, for some stupid reason, to keep her. Put her to work—on Duchanes, on the curse, behind the bar, anything to keep her in his sights.
But Dorian’s warning had come far too late. And every night that passed, every hour, Gabriel was falling deeper under her dark enchantment.
“Another?” He held up both empty glasses and grinned, some of the tension between them dissipating. Drinking was the only language they both spoke fluently, the common ground that had spared them more arguments than not.
“No, thank you,” Dorian said. “I’ve got a date with my fiancée.”
He’d said the f-word as if he were tasting the finest scotch and turned his attention down toward the bar, where the fiancée in question was currently sharing a secret with Jacinda that had both women glaring up at Gabriel and laughing.
“Hell, she’s beautiful,” Dorian said, practically salivating at the sight of his woman.
“Hell, you’re repulsive,” Gabriel said, but there was no ire in his insult.
“Quite.” Dorian smacked Gabriel’s cheek, shot him one last warning glare, and then he was off.
Gabriel watched him head down the spiral stairs, slowly making his way toward the bar.
Guilt roiled in his gut. Dorian was right, of course.
At this point, it was obvious Jacinda had hit a roadblock with the curse. She needed more information—information that none of them had. If Malcolm was to be believed—and that was a big if—the only vampire alive who knew anything more about the dreaded curse was Renault fucking Duchanes.
Gabriel shook his head, cursing under his breath. The best solution for all of them was to track down Duchanes and break their curse. The sooner he could accomplish both, the sooner Jacinda would be out of his life.
That idea unleashed a burn of a different sort.
But Gabriel refused to let it smolder into a flame.
He was the vampire with the coldest heart, the cruelest smile. The vampire whose touch turned women to ice.
He held his breath. Felt the quick thud of his heart.
In all the centuries of his immortality, no one had ever penetrated it.
Fire had no business there. One red-hot little witch wasn’t about to change that.
&nbs
p; Chapter Eighteen
“Sapphire and tonic, please.”
The smooth, sultry voice pulled Jaci from her thoughts about dark spells and bloody vampire hearts, and she turned to find a gorgeous female vampire smiling at her across the bar.
Charley, Dorian’s fiancée. Jaci remembered seeing her at the Ravenswood fundraiser the night Dorian had invited her to roam the gardens—felt like a hundred years ago now, though it had only been a few months. Charley had been human then, but she was definitely a card-carrying member of the fanged and the furious now.
Dorian’s work, no doubt.
Jaci grabbed the bottle of gin and a Copa glass. “If you’re here to tear my heart out, please make it quick—I’m dying for an excuse to get out of these heels. Also, I totally get it, and I forgive you in advance.”
Charley’s dazzling smile widened, her eyes shining with warmth and amusement. “Tempting, but… Not tonight, hon. I just got my nails done.” She fluttered her fingers along the bar.
Jaci couldn’t help but notice the massive red diamond glittering on her ring finger. “Congratulations, I think?”
Charley beamed. “Thank you.”
Fairly certain the woman wasn’t going to leap on her jugular, Jaci turned her attention to making the drink, then handed it over, waving off Charley’s credit card.
Charley tipped the glass in cheers, then sipped, her eyebrows lifting. “Wow. That’s fucking good.”
Jaci laughed, some of the tension easing. “My boss is pretty demanding.”
A nod. Another sip. Another smile.
Finally, Charley set down her drink and sighed, the warmth in her eyes cooling a bit.
“Look, Jacinda,” she said. “I’m not here to pretend that what you did was okay. I just—”
“I didn’t know.”
Charley cocked her head. “About?”
“I didn’t know the poison was for Dorian,” she blurted. “I mean, that’s not to justify anything. It was super fucked-up either way. But Renault didn’t give me any details—just the assignment, and I did it without question. Which… yeah. The end result was still the same—Dorian nearly died, you got dragged into it, and…” She blew out a breath, regretting opening her big, fat mouth in the first place. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. If I could go back…”
Charley offered a soft smile. “But we can’t, that’s the kick in the ass.”
Jaci poured herself a shot of gin, then touched it to Charley’s glass. “To leaving the past in the past.”
“Here, here.”
The women drank, and Jaci darted off to help another customer. When she returned, Charley was still there.
“Listen, Jacinda—”
“Jaci. I mean, you can call me Jacinda if you want to, but Jaci works too.”
“Jaci.” Charley ran a manicured finger around the rim of her glass, the picture of elegance. “I came here to say… I’m not justifying what you did—not by a long shot. But let’s just say I know what it’s like to be stuck in a shitty situation with no way out when your only options are a shit sandwich or a shit sandwich on fire.”
Jaci couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it feels sometimes.”
She liked the woman, and she suspected the woman liked her too, even though they should probably be on the floor already, clawing each other’s eyes out.
“But,” Charley said, and Jaci sighed.
“There’s always a but.”
“But if you betray Gabriel’s trust, if you come after Dorian or anyone in my family again in any way—shitty situation or not—I won’t hesitate to sacrifice a manicure to tear your heart out. And no, I won’t make it quick. And yes, you will remember me in hell, and when I finally make it there myself, I’ll track you down and do it all over again.”
“Understood.” Jaci believed her, but the sudden flare of emotion that burned down her spine wasn’t defensiveness or fear.
It was jealousy, plain and simple. Not for Charley’s confidence, her poise, her complete badassery—though all were admirable traits.
But because Jaci had no fucking idea what it felt like to be so completely devoted to anyone, much less to an entire family.
And she wanted to.
“Oh, one more thing, woman to woman?” Charley leaned over the bar, eyes glittering with a conspiratorial gleam. “Don’t let Gabriel fool you. He’s not as much of an asshole as he wants everyone to believe.”
Jaci cracked up at that. “Sorry, Charley. Gabriel Redthorne? He’s the biggest asshole I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, he’s definitely the biggest asshole, bar none. Just not as big as he lets on.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”
“Disagree all you want, but…” Charley shrugged and finished her drink, then leaned in close again, dropping her voice. “He did take down two Rogozin demons just for messing with you, which seriously pissed off his brother.”
“Two?” She knew about Kostya—she’d had a front-row seat to that one. But two? “Which demons?”
“Russians. Former Chernikov goons—talk about the world’s biggest assholes.” Charley shuddered in a way that suggested she was intimately familiar with the bastards. “One of the guys didn’t even have a name. Something about eyes? Watching? All I know is Gabriel wanted to send a message that you, blondie, are not to be fucked with.”
Jaci poured herself another shot and downed it quick, doing her best to hide her shock.
He killed He Who Likes to Watch? For me?
“There’s my little prowler.” Dorian approached the bar, sweeping Charley into his arms and smothering her with kisses.
With a breathless laugh, Charley winked at Jaci, tucked a twenty under the glass, then left with her man.
Jaci was so entranced by their adorableness, she didn’t even realize she had another customer until she heard the impatient clearing of a throat.
She turned to find Gabriel eyeing her up across the bar.
“Bourbon,” he said flatly. “If you can spare a moment from your daydreaming to do your job.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” Jaci reached for the bottle, the brand she knew he loved, and poured a glass for each of them. She held his gaze, refusing to let him get under her skin.
Yes, he was an asshole.
So much so that if asshole were a disease, he would be terminal.
But he’d killed two demons for her. Demons who’d tortured and brutalized her. Demons who’d done things to her that still haunted her nightmares, all with Renault’s blessing.
A surge of gratitude rose in her chest, making her eyes water. She downed her drink, then worked up the courage to say the words trapped inside.
“Thank you, Gabriel Redthorne.”
He let out a soft sigh, a hundred thoughts flashing through his eyes, none of them readable. “For what?”
“Charley told me what you did to that other demon. He Who Likes to Watch.”
Gabriel’s fist tightened on his glass, but he said nothing.
Jaci squeezed his arm.
He glared at her fingers as if her touch burned him. “Don’t.”
She pulled back, surprised at how badly his rejection stung. “Don’t what?”
“Do not get emotional over this.”
“I’m… wait. Emotional? What?”
“I’m not your white knight, Jacinda. I didn’t eliminate those demons for you.” He held out his empty glass, gesturing for her to refill it.
She did as he asked, swallowing the knot in her throat. When she spoke again, her voice was high and tight. “Then why? Why provoke Rogozin?”
“It was no different from the night of your little stunt at the hospital. Anyone who touches or damages my property will be dealt with swiftly. Let one infraction slide, and we’ll have the whole lot of vile, hellspawn beasts showing up whenever they please, pawing my servers, acting as if they own the place. Bloody hell, it’s bad enough I have to let them in the door at all. There’s only one place
on earth demons belong, and it isn’t Obsidian. In fact, it isn’t even on earth at all.”
Jaci clenched her fists at her side, her body vibrating, her face hot.
Charley was wrong. Gabriel Redthorne was every bit the asshole he fashioned himself, and every time Jaci came close to forgetting it, he swept right back in with a firm reminder.
To think she’d wasted even a minute of her life feeling guilty about the idea of sacrificing his heart to save her father’s soul… What a fucking joke.
Gabriel tapped on the bar and held up his glass, empty once again, gesturing for her to pour another.
But she was done serving him. Done dealing with his bullshit. Done with all of it.
“Any man who equivocates getting emotional with a genuine thank you clearly hasn’t gotten enough of either in his life.” Jaci shoved the bottle of bourbon at him and stormed off, feeling the icy touch of his glare on her backside with every step.
Chapter Nineteen
Gabriel found the witch in the wine cellar, precariously balanced on a step ladder as she reached toward the top shelf for a bottle of his rarest Bordeaux. She hadn’t heard him approach, and as he tried to cobble together some sort of apology in his mind, he took a moment to pause and enjoy the view.
Another thing he should probably apologize for, but wouldn’t.
She stretched up on her toes before the floor-to-ceiling mahogany shelving, fingers wrapping around that bottle, the hem of her dress inching up to reveal another intriguing secret:
Her stockings didn’t go all the way up.
Gabriel swallowed hard, his throat working as he imagined running his tongue along the garters, snapping them with his teeth…
Jacinda’s sharp, sudden gasp shook him out of the fantasy. Gabriel glanced up, saw the ladder wobble. Saw the bottle slip from her hand as she lost her footing and fell.
He blurred into the room. Caught the witch and the bottle both.
It happened so fast, she didn’t even have time to blink. One moment she was falling, the next she was cradled in his arms, her mouth rounding into a glistening pink oh of surprise that stirred his cock to rapt attention.
