by Sarah Piper
Jaci’s lungs pulled in deep gasps of wet, salty air, her heart jackhammering, the roar of the ocean still echoing in her ears. The boathouse was dark and musty, rotten with disuse, dripping with cold, wet water.
The bleakness of it, the smallness, the death, the way the darkness ate up all the light… It reminded her of the cave. Of all the dark, dangerous places where she’d been shoved. Tortured. Left to die.
She fisted her trembling hands in his wet shirt, unable to speak.
She was supposed to hate him. Her captor, her tarnished prince, the monster.
The monster who’d seen the darkness inside her and didn’t run from it.
The monster who’d tried to save her from herself.
“Gabriel,” she breathed, and a new fire rose, a fury that had nothing to do with dead mages and everything to do with his hands. His mouth.
She tore open his wet shirt and ran her hands up his chest, then brought her mouth to his smooth skin, licking his nipple, tasting the salt of the sea. Gabriel shivered, his dick hard, his breath turning ragged.
He lifted her off her feet, and in another dizzying blur, he pushed her against the wall, pinning her with his muscled body, heat cresting between them.
He shoved the dress up around her waist, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, his wet pants cold against her bare thighs. She gripped his shoulders and held on, her heart beating so loudly for his touch, it drowned out the memory of the pounding surf.
Gabriel fisted her hair, his chest pinning her in place, his other hand sliding between her thighs, fingers seeking her wet heat.
Mouth hot and close to her ear, he growled another warning. “No one touches you but me. Monster, mage, or man, I will bleed and burn them all for you, Jacinda Colburn.”
He kissed her neck, her jaw, dragging his lips to hers, and for a minute she thought he might finally kiss her, despite all her earlier refusals. But then he lowered his mouth to her throat instead, her skin searing beneath his ravenous kisses.
Gabriel freed his dick from his pants, shoved aside her underwear, and thrust inside her, filling her, claiming her, stealing her back from the sea that had tried to take her, his touch so hot and fierce and alive it made her weep.
Jaci rode him hard as he held her close, the rain crashing down all around them—the whole damn world crashing down. Her back rubbed against the rotten wood, shoulder blades scraped raw from the force of his wild thrusts, the salt of the ocean filling her mouth and nose, mixing with his evergreens-in-winter scent until she felt the rest of the world evaporate, leaving her alone in the wild with her vampire, no secrets between them, no lies, no wars or alliances. No ice.
Only heat. Only passion. Only fire.
It felt as if hours had passed, Gabriel plunging into her again and again, bringing her back, marking her, owning her. When she finally came, it happened in a sudden gasp, a burst of light and heat that snuck up on her, exploding in a storm of chaos. She cried out for him, fingernails digging into his shoulders, and when she drew back and looked into his eyes, in their stormy green depths she saw her nightmares, the darkest evil that haunted her steps. Whether it was a mirror or a premonition or a glimpse into his own private hell, she had no idea, but it bound them in a way she couldn’t describe, a way she knew they both recognized but would never speak of.
Gabriel’s thrusts intensified, and then he came inside her, trembling and hot, slamming her against the wall, holding her so tight she feared death had finally found her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
They left the boathouse in silence. The ocean murmured softly now, a petulant child who’d worn herself out with a tantrum. Jaci understood the feeling.
The vampire walked a few paces ahead, Jaci’s footing uneven on the cold sand, one foot bare, the other aching in the shoe that had somehow survived the storm.
Gabriel stopped. Turned around and looked at her. Turned back and stared out across the sea, as if its blue depths held the answers he sought.
Jaci couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking. Other than a few spells and the time she’d killed those grays near the hospital, she hadn’t shown him a whisper of her real magic. Of the darkness that churned inside her. The power.
He’d never even asked. For all the time they’d spent together, all the hours he’d stalked her every move, when it came to her witchcraft—the very magic that made her tick—he’d only ever demanded.
Tell me about the grays, witch. Find the source of this curse, witch. Don’t get emotional, witch. Don’t forget who owns you, witch.
Even now, when she caught up to him on the shore and he spoke for the first time since the boathouse, he said only, “Duchanes.”
The name burned through his lips, burned into her chest like an accusation.
She shook her head, and he turned toward the sea, pacing the shoreline once more, back and forth, back and forth, muttering to himself. To her. To the sky.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked. “The mage… He touched you, and the chanting… The blood and the salt… There was a storm, and you… You just…” He shoved a hand through his wet hair. When he finally stopped pacing, he glared at her, his face tight with confusion and dread.
“What the fuck was that?” he repeated. This time, it was only a whisper, but it burned her just the same.
Jaci closed her eyes, the tears already stinging. But what did she expect? Gabriel was a vampire prince, brother to the king she’d helped to poison, the family she’d been working against. He didn’t care about her. Why would he?
No one touches you but me. Monster, mage, or man, I will bleed and burn them all for you, Jacinda Colburn…
That’s all she was to him. All she’d ever be. Gabriel had slaughtered a dozen mages all because they’d touched his property. All because he needed to send another fucking message.
The fact that he’d saved her life? That he’d brought her back from the darkness? She was a fool to think it had anything to do with her.
“I botched the Duchanes intel,” she answered, as if that explained it all.
Gabriel shook his head and sighed, his eyes veiled. “And the storm? The wave?”
Jaci’s heart sank. He didn’t care what that kind of magic did to her. How it left her buzzing and raw, her insides scraped hollow. All he cared about was that she’d somehow fucked up their simple plan. That the dark mages who damn near sacrificed her life had dared to put their hands on his fucking property.
Anger rose inside, a black and twisted thing that burned all the raw nerves the magic hadn’t reached.
Somewhere in the back of her head, a dim voice told her she was misunderstanding. That the shocking intensity of the events they’d witnessed, caused, and endured had rattled them both. That she needed to tell Gabriel about Viansa, about the curse, about her lineage, about her deception.
About all of it.
But in the midst of her quiet rage, her pain, all Jaci could do was attack.
“For all your bloodlust,” she spat, “for all the people you’ve tortured and killed, you have no idea what happens when you unleash so much violence on men, do you?”
Confusion knit his brow, and he gaped at her, completely oblivious.
“Mages are human, and human emotions are energy forms,” she said. “When you killed them, all their anger, their trauma, their fear, their pain—all of it exploded in an instant. And where do you think it went?”
“Jacinda, I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is what I felt. What I scented—your fear. And when I stepped into that cave and saw a mage with a knife at your throat, his hands on you—”
“You slaughtered them!” she shouted, as if he’d somehow forgotten. “And I sucked up all the bad mojo like a Hoover, turning myself into a bomb. That’s what you saw. That’s what brought the storm and the sea. That’s what nearly finished us both off.”
Gabriel shook his head, incredulous. Disbelieving. She saw it in his eyes—a cold revulsion where moments earlier t
here had only been heat.
Inexplicably, he reached for her face, but she didn’t want his placating touch now. She pulled back, shaking her head.
A flash of guilt and sorrow shot through his eyes, but then he closed himself off again, putting her on the other side of a wall of ice.
In a cool, detached voice, he said simply, “Coming here tonight was a mistake.”
Unbelievable.
She shoved his shoulder, damn near ready to rip his heart out right there. “You are such an asshole.”
She waited for him to call her on it. To wrap her in his arms and pin her down on the beach, claiming her once more in all the filthy, vicious ways only Gabriel could.
But in the end, he only shook his head, a heavy sadness settling over his shoulders.
Oblivious to their arguing, the sea whispered against the shore. Demons and vampires might be immortal, but they had nothing on the timelessness of the tides, endlessly reshaping the world while the rest of them pretended they were anything but a passing fart from the universe.
Salt stung Jaci’s eyes. Her legs began to quiver with exhaustion. The insanity of the night had finally caught up with her, and she swayed on her feet.
Gabriel darted forward to catch her—instinct more than heart, most likely—and she pushed him away, straightening herself before she face-planted. Then, because even her wet hair was warmer than the absence of her vampire’s touch, she pulled the sopping mess over her shoulders and ducked his gaze.
It was too intense. Too accusatory. And if she didn’t know better—too worried.
But Jaci did know better. If the vampire was worried, it was only about his precious intel on Renault. The yet-to-be-determined cure on his family curse. All the many grievous mistakes his “property” had made tonight.
Her guilt bubbled up, bleeding into her longing and fear and desperation until she could no longer tell where any of them ended and any began.
Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand and shook her head. In a soft, defeated whisper, she said, “Take me home, Gabriel.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gabriel.
Not Prince. Not vampire. Not dickhead.
Bloody hell, he’d never hated the sound of his given name as much as he did at that moment. It was empty. Distant. A door slamming in his face.
Gabriel.
They got back to the car, and immediately he started it up and cranked the heat. Jacinda was pale and shivering, her lips nearly blue.
Gabriel.
He got out and closed the door. Headed for the trunk. There was some dry cleaning shoved back there, and he tore open the bag, retrieving one of his suit jackets.
Gabriel.
Back in the front seat, he draped the jacket over her shivering form, expecting her to resist. Preparing for the fight. He’d pin her down if had to, tie her up, force her to let him take care of her.
Instead, teeth chattering, she clutched the jacket tighter.
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.
“Jacinda,” he whispered, a broken man with a head full of confusion and a heart full of thorns.
He reached for her face, but she turned away, tears cutting through the salt staining her cheeks.
Gabriel.
With nothing else to do but drive, he navigated them out of the parking lot and did just that.
“We were right about Renault. He’s not far from the city at all.”
Gabriel had gotten so used to the muted hum of the tires on the highway that it took him a few beats to realize the words had come from Jacinda’s lips and not his imagination.
It was the first she’d spoken since they’d left Montauk an hour ago.
“Jacinda,” he breathed, more relieved than he cared to admit. He glanced at her across the dim space of the car, a pair of passing headlights illuminating her face, then throwing her back into darkness. “Are you all right?”
“Working out of a warehouse in Jersey,” she continued, as if Gabriel hadn’t said a word. “Newark, if the dead mages can be believed. But, you know what they say—”
“Jacinda, please listen. I—”
“Dead men tell no lies.” Laughter bubbled up, but it wasn’t warm and soft. Wasn’t hers.
“I don’t care about bloody Duchanes. I only care that you’re safe.”
“Sure I am.” Another laugh, wild and wicked. Crazed. “Safe as any witch who just fled the scene of a mass mage murder—hey! Say that ten times fast! Mass mage murder. Mass murder of magical… mass… mages. Murdering murderous mass—”
“Jacinda.”
She clamped her mouth shut, but she still wouldn’t acknowledge him. Wouldn’t even look at him.
He tried again, his voice low and soft. “Jacinda, we need to—”
“Stop.”
The sharp, sudden command rose up between them like a solid wall, smashing right through him.
In all their arguments, all their threats, all their bloody games, it was the one word she’d never uttered. The word they both knew held more power than a spell to put Gabriel back on ice.
“I can’t do this with you anymore, Gabriel,” she said, the sound of his name just as grating as it had been on the beach. The crazed laughter was gone, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. “I get that we’re not exactly… friends. I don’t know what we are. And you’ve got a million reasons not to trust me, which I also get, and there’s so much more I—”
“This has nothing to—”
“Let me finish.”
He clamped his mouth shut, knowing he didn’t have the right words anyway. Hadn’t he already proven that on the beach, sending her into a tailspin with his questions? Hurting her more with every word?
“All we’re doing is pretending,” she continued, the words slicing through his heart. “In your eyes, I’ll always be a dark witch. That’s what you see first, before you see the woman—the person—beneath. Sure, you’re attracted to me. The sex is… fucking epic. And maybe you even like me, despite yourself. But you don’t know me. Not at all.”
He waited a few beats, not wanting to interrupt. When it was clear she had nothing more to add for the moment, he said softly, “But I do know you, little moonflower.”
She winced, as if the name he’d been calling her for months—the name he whispered even when she wasn’t there, just to bring it to his lips—physically hurt.
“The fact that you believe that only proves my point, Gabriel. It means you can never know me because you’re already so sure you’ve got it all figured out. There’s no room for curiosity. For exploration. There’s no room for anything but assumptions and the lies you tell yourself to justify your attraction to me. Because how terrifying would it be if the Redthorne prince—the vampire who despises witches—actually had feelings for one?”
His heart thudded, his mouth filling with the taste of salt and bitterness.
She fucking nailed it.
Gabriel was terrified. No, maybe he didn’t know her. Maybe he never would. Maybe she held secrets so dark, so deep, no man—mortal or immortal—would ever unearth them.
But he wanted to know her. Not as a witch. Not as a woman. Not as whatever else lie deep in that fiery heart of hers. But as everything, all of it, all at once, everything that made her the woman who’d set his soul on fire.
“Jacinda, I… You… There’s so much, and…” He fumbled for the words again, the right ones this time, the simplest expression of the most complicated fucking thing he’d ever experienced, yet there on the dark stretch of highway, heart jammed in his throat, none of them came.
So he reached for her instead, brushing his knuckles along her jaw, hoping the tenderness in his touch conveyed what his broken speech could not.
Jacinda shook her head and turned away from him, her rejection crashing over him like the ocean that’d nearly drowned them both.
Gabriel waited for her to speak. To shout. To climb over into the driver’s side, take his face in her han
ds, and finally kiss him, confirming that he wasn’t alone in this fathomless ocean after all.
But his feisty, fiery, sassy witch was all out of words. All out of everything.
With a heavy sigh, he turned his eyes back to the road, following that cold black ribbon home.
By the time Gabriel pulled into the underground parking garage back home, Jacinda was sound asleep, mouth parted, her breathing deep. After everything they’d been through tonight, Gabriel didn’t have the heart to wake her. As carefully as he could, he extracted her from the passenger seat and hauled her close, bumping the door closed with his hip.
She’d asked him to take her home, but she wouldn’t be going to her place tonight.
She’d be going to his. His penthouse. His bedroom. His bed.
He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
Up on the fifteenth floor, the moon shone like a jewel through his windows, casting the normally dark gray bedroom in a wash of light. In the quiet peace of his room, it seemed impossible that the moon that hung in the city sky now was the same moon that had watched them cheat death hours earlier.
Gabriel set Jacinda on the bed, gently rolling back the blankets. Her dress was dry now, crusted with salt, but no longer ice cold. He unbuckled and removed the one shoe, the jewels from her neck, the few clips that still clung to her hair. Silvery locks spilled down over her shoulders, unleashing the salty scent of the sea.
Memories crashed over him like waves, dark and dangerous, filling his chest with sharp, jagged fear.
But that’s all they were. Memories. Ghosts, just like all the rest. Jacinda was safe. They were both safe. From mages, from magic, from rogue waves, from demons and darkness.
He figured she’d be more comfortable in his shirt, but he didn’t think he could take the dress off without unleashing his own desire, a raging thing she’d dug out of the ice and brought back to life with the fire of her touch.
So instead, he left her clothed, pulling the blankets up to her neck and tucking them around her body.