Heart of Thorns: A Dark Vampire Romance (Vampire Royals of New York: Gabriel Book 1)

by Sarah Piper

  She murmured slightly, but her eyes never opened.

  Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand, watching her sleep for a long time, fighting back the images of that cave.

  Frantically searching for her in the conference room, he could hear her heartbeat. Scent her adrenaline. And when he finally blurred into that cave and found her kneeling on the floor, the mage touching her, he’d seen it—that look. It was the same look he’d seen in every monster he’d ever tormented. In the end, they all knew when death was near. And no matter how terrible they’d been in life, no matter how much death they’d meted out themselves, they always feared its arrival.

  And in that moment, when he saw that look in her eyes, for the first time in his pathetic immortal life, Gabriel felt that same fear chewing through his fucking heart.

  Now, the moon his only witness, he whispered his confession.

  “I didn’t kill those mages for touching my property, Jacinda.” He ran a hand over her hair, looping a fat curl around his fingers. As always, it reminded him of a flower petal, a delicate bloom hiding the thorns beneath. “I did it because you were terrified. Because I was terrified. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

  She didn’t respond—didn’t even hear him, which was just as well. It was more than he should’ve said anyway.

  He dropped her silky curl.

  Brushed the salt and sand from her pillow.

  Pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

  And left her to the darkness of dreams he had no business invading.

  The wolf shifter answered on the first ring. “What can I do ya for, Little Red?”

  “Cole. You up for a bit of scheming, mate?”

  He could practically hear the wolf’s grin stretching wide.

  “Ask not what you can do for your wolf,” Cole said with a snicker, “ask what kind of shit your wolf can stir up for you.”

  “I don’t… What the bloody hell are you on about?”

  “Sorry. Got into the green a little early tonight. Potent batch, this one. You know, after all these years hiding out like a damned hermit, I think I got me a case of cabin fever. And it ain’t actually a fever, if you can believe it, but more like a—”

  “For fuck’s sake, Cole. I don’t speak stoner. Translate.”

  “All right, Little Red. Here’s your translation.” Cole blew into the phone—a plume of marijuana haze, no doubt—then snickered again. “Hell yeah, bloodsucker. Where and when, and how many pairs of pants should I bring?”

  “Newark. Soon as you sober up. And make it two pairs, just in case.” Gabriel scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I need you to track down a lead on Duchanes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Dark walls. Dark sheets. Dark thoughts.

  Jaci sat up in bed—not hers, she realized. Gabriel’s.

  The red dress still clung to her, stained and crusted with salt, but the vampire’s scent was all around her, cool and crisp, masculine, making her ache for things she was pretty sure she’d destroyed last night.

  Memories flooded her mind—the mages, the sea, the boathouse, the arguments, the darkness.

  The regret.

  There was so much she had to tell him. So much she had to explain. So much she was still trying to understand herself.

  The Keepers of the Dark Flame had known who she was from the very start, and they’d intended on sacrificing her—that much was obvious. But had they really communed with Viansa? Was the sacrifice supposed to help her manifest? Had her sister grown so powerful that she could command a legion of dark mages?

  And what about Gabriel’s curse? And her father’s soul?

  Jaci closed her eyes, the breath leaving her lungs in a hot rush. She had to tell him. All of it. He’d hate her for it, but he deserved to know. And maybe, even if he couldn’t forgive her, he could help her find a way through it.

  “Good morning, Jacinda.”

  She startled at his voice, a soft, sexy rumble in the morning calm. She opened her eyes to find him standing before the windows, dressed in low-slung gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that clung to his chest.

  Her mouth filled with the taste of salt, the memory of her tongue on his smooth skin.

  Gabriel smiled. Uncertain. Warm. Terrified.

  He held a mug of something hot in his hand, the steam curling up around him.

  “Is that tea?” she asked, catching the scent of mint and vanilla.

  He joined her on the bed, sitting next to her and handing it over. His eyes were a brighter green today, no touch of last night’s storm, only a slight frost clinging to the edges. She gazed into them now, trying desperately to remember why the fuck she’d ever hated him. How it was even possible.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to start rationing the mint,” he said. “Last time, I bought out the bodega’s entire supply. The owner accused me of trying to impress a woman.”

  Jaci rolled her eyes and laughed. “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him you’re not a woman, you’re a witch, and therefore infinitely more difficult to impress.”

  “Did he believe you?”

  “Mortal men never do. That’s the fun of it.” He cupped the back of her head, touching his forehead to hers, his words a teasing whisper against her lips. “You’re my dirty little secret.”

  Jaci let out a soft hum, but she knew Gabriel Redthorne’s real secret now.

  He wasn’t the cold, ruthless vampire he pretended to be. Deep down, beneath all the ice, was a core of molten heat that had awakened her and challenged her and saved her in ways she was still trying to understand. To accept. To allow.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” she blurted out, unable to accept another moment of this peace, this warmth. It felt like borrowed time, and the thought of losing it already filled her heart with a deep well of sadness. “I wish I could’ve gotten more information about Renault, but things went sideways fast, and I just… It all fell apart.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “None of it was your fault. I should’ve gone in with you. I should’ve…” His jaw clenched tight, and he sighed through his nose. “Anyway, you did get information. Good information. Cole is already looking into recent warehouse purchases in and around Newark. If the mage was right about that, we might be able to track the exact location.”

  “And then what?”

  “Cole will let us know, and we’ll make a plan.”

  Us. We’ll. The words were a balm on her aching heart. Temporary, but soothing nevertheless.

  “Jacinda, last night… I’m the one who should be apologizing. I was so confused about what happened, about the magic, the storm. Everything just… It all came out wrong. I made a right mess of things. I had so many questions—I still have questions—and I don’t know how to ask them.”

  He fingered a lock of her hair, tugging the curl straight, then releasing it, watching it spring back up, fascinated.

  “What was that?” he whispered, and she knew he wasn’t talking about her hair.

  “You’re familiar with empathic witches?”

  Gabriel nodded. “Like Isabelle.”

  “Think of my magic sort of like that. Not empathic, but empathic-adjacent.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Empathic witches sense emotions. The more sensitive the witch, the greater that sense becomes. Some witches can use their gift to understand people, to help them. Others have trouble knowing whether something they’re feeling is their own emotion or someone else’s—they basically take on the emotions of everyone around them.” She sipped her tea, letting it warm her from the inside out. “A witch like Isabelle, with all her experience, probably doesn’t struggle with it so much. But the way my empathic magic works is different. Even with time and experience, I can’t separate myself from it. It’s not possible.”

  “So when you sense emotion, you always feel it as if it’s your own?”

  “I don’t sense emotions. I absorb them. Fully. I know th
ey’re not mine, but I can’t stop them from invading my body and making it react as if they are mine. It only happens with humans—not other supernaturals—but that’s still a lot to deal with.”

  “It’s constant? You’re always picking up human emotion?”

  Jaci nodded. “Normally, I can ground myself and the energy just dissipates. But there were so many mages last night, the moment so intense, and when you killed them, their emotions—the darkest, worst parts—had nowhere else to go. They filled me right up, fused with my magic, and turned me into a bomb. That’s what you saw on the beach. I detonated.”

  “Bloody hell, Jacinda. Has anything like that ever happened before?” His eyes filled with terror. With wonder. With compassion.

  Jaci lowered her gaze, unable to bear the weight of his. The sincerity. She couldn’t answer him. Didn’t want to go back there, back to hell and the vicious experiments her so-called family had put her through.

  Thankfully, Gabriel didn’t push.

  “That was smart thinking,” he said, looping another curl around his finger. “About the beach.”

  “There are few things that can contain energy like that without causing mass chaos. Even the ocean had a hard time with it, but in the end, I knew she’d be able to handle it.”

  “Just like you.” Gabriel smiled, soft and warm. Then, his voice falling to a whisper, “I still don’t know the right thing to say, Jace. But when I see the pain in your eyes, I want to erase it.”

  Jace. The casualness. The comfort. She wanted to wrap herself in it, to fall asleep in its arms knowing it would still be there when she woke up again.

  But she’d given up on those kinds of fairy tales long ago.

  One sweet morning with tea in bed and his hands in her hair didn’t change that.

  Jaci set her mug on the nightstand and forced a smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Prince, but… Thanks for—you know. Saving me. Again.”

  Gabriel didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh. He shook his head, guilt filling his eyes. “I never should’ve allowed you to put yourself in that situation in the first place. I should’ve known better than to trust a demon.”

  “That’s on me.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He cupped her face, his brow creased with pain and regret, his touch as soft as a feather. “I warned you I would destroy you, little moonflower.”

  His voice was a broken whisper, but whatever Gabriel felt guilty about, whatever pain he’d inadvertently caused her last night, whatever pain he thought he could’ve prevented, all of it paled in comparison.

  Jaci—vile, wicked, evil—had actually considered carving out his heart. That was her grand plan. The Hail Mary that would somehow save her father, consequences be damned.

  The image flashed through her mind’s eye, Gabriel’s heart beating in her hand, dark blood running between her fingers, warm and wet. His body, resurrected before it turned to ash, an empty husk staring back at her with vacant eyes, his own bloody heart calling to the unfathomable hunger inside him.

  Deep down, she knew she couldn’t have gone through with it—not even in the vampire’s most hateful moments. Not when push came to shove, and blade came to flesh.

  But the fact that she’d even considered it? It filled her with a shame so dark and heavy, it nearly drove Jaci to her knees.

  Not because she was a good person. Not because she’d seen the error of her ways. Not because she wanted redemption and forgiveness for a sin she hadn’t even confessed.

  But because somehow, through all the threats and fights and teasing and touching and heat, through all the risks, through all the dark magic and epic, life-saving heroics, Jaci had fallen in love with the vampire prince.

  The realization drew her up short, making her gasp, making her ache, making her hollow.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking, little moonflower,” he whispered.

  Her tears blurred him into two versions, her dark vampire captor and her white knight, both of them filling her heart.

  “Kiss me,” she breathed.

  Gabriel’s eyes widened, his sharp intake of breath audible. He knew what it meant—so much more than a kiss, so much more than a dare—but Jaci was done pretending. Maybe it would all crash and burn the moment she told him about Viansa and the curse, about who she really was, all the secrets he thought he already knew. Hell, maybe it would crash and burn right now, before their lips even touched. Maybe he’d turn his back on her, shore up those walls of ice, and never let her find another crack.

  But just as he’d slaughtered her enemies, just as he’d waded into the sea to save her, those were the risks she was willing to take.

  Trembling before him, Jaci held his gaze, awaiting his answer, terrified of what it would mean if he kissed her. If he didn’t.

  Finally, after a thousand lifetimes, Gabriel cradled her face, his touch kind and gentle and warm, as if he were afraid she was a bubble he might burst. The pad of his thumb arced back and forth across her lips, and she sighed at the intimacy of his touch. She’d never felt anything so soft, so erotic. Never allowed it.

  “Tell me to stop, Jacinda Colburn,” he whispered, his eyes full of some new fire. Gone was the frost, replaced now with the tender greens and golds of new spring buds after a lush rain.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, but Jaci smiled. In a trembling voice, she said, “Don’t stop. Just kiss me, Gabriel Redthorne.”

  He brought his mouth to hers, lips brushing lips, soft as a delicate breeze, teasing, hopeful. He drew her closer, sliding his hands into her hair and finally, blissfully, beautifully, pressing his mouth to hers.

  Jaci’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she parted her lips, drinking in his warm breath, shivering at the gentle exploration of his tongue, hot and velvet-soft, tracing her lips, then slipping between them, tasting and teasing.

  A low, desirous moan rumbled through his chest, and she opened wider. Gabriel deepened their kiss, his tender teases quickly growing urgent, hot, devouring. Pleasure arced down her chest, down to her belly, down to her core. Gabriel’s fingers tightened in her hair, and he guided her back against the pillows, slowly climbing on top of her, never once breaking the kiss.

  When their mouths finally parted for breath, Gabriel looked bewildered, his eyes glassy, a smile curving his lush mouth. He was hard for her, his dick pressing urgently against her thigh, making her shamelessly wet.

  “What are you thinking, Prince?” she teased, tears still brimming in her eyes. Happiness. Fear. Shame. New love. So much she couldn’t contain it.

  “I’m thinking about extending that overdue invitation into my bed.” His smile turned devious, and his earlier threat whispered through her mind.

  If I ever invite you into my bed, the things I’ll do to you there will not be quick. They’ll not be polite. And you can call it a one-and-done deal all you’d like, but I promise you, witch. The only word you’ll be uttering when I’m through with you is more…

  Desire flooded her body, her nerves on fire, her breath shallow. She reached for his face, running her fingers along his stubbled jaw. She’d never wanted anything so badly.

  But she couldn’t have it. Not until she told him all the things she needed to say.

  “Gabriel, I—”

  His eyes went wide. Pained. He collapsed on her chest, a heavy weight crushing her into the mattress.

  “Gabriel?” She pushed against him. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

  “Prince?” she tried once more. Desperate. Terrified.

  And then…

  A sound from across the room. A flicker of light. A change in the air currents.

  Panic rushed through her body, tingling in her limbs, making her hot and prickly. Jaci slid out from beneath him and lifted her head.

  And there, just beyond the foot of his bed, an old foe slithered from the shadows, her blue eyes bright, her black-painted mouth twisted into the scowl that had haunted Jaci’s nightmares for her entire life.

  “Hello, Lab Rat,” the cruel mo
uth said, stretching into a grin. “Sorry to interrupt this portrait of domestic bliss, but… Wait! Actually, I’m not sorry at all.” She hopped onto the bed at Jaci’s feet, bouncing on her knees like a child. “Didn’t I tell you the reunion would be epic?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The doors to Obsidian opened, ushering in the cold December wind and giving Gabriel a glimpse of the wasteland outside. The skeletal remains of St. Mark’s Place jutted awkwardly from the ground, snow collecting on their rusty bones. Silence whispered across the barren streets.

  From his seat at the bar, he turned toward the newcomer, hope rising.

  Jacinda?

  But… no. It wasn’t his witch who’d finally found her way home. It was a woman he’d never seen before—tight gold dress, glossy black hair, a painted smile to match. The dark lipstick made her teeth look exceptionally white. Exceptionally sharp.

  She wasn’t human, wasn’t a witch, wasn’t a vampire or shifter. He couldn’t quite get a read on her.

  “We’re closed,” he said gruffly. He went back to his glass of bourbon, but the liquor transformed from auburn to black before his eyes. When he tried to drink it, it turned to ash on his tongue.

  “Please, Mr. Redthorne. It’s so cold out there. So lonely. I just need a warm place to wait for my ride. Maybe a drink?”

  Gabriel scoffed, spitting the ashes from between his lips. If she thought her painted smile would work on him, she was in for an even colder night than the one she’d left outside those doors.

  But he didn’t see the harm in letting her have a drink.

  He went around behind the bar and grabbed two clean glasses. Opened a fresh bottle of bourbon and poured one for each of them, not bothering to ask what she wanted.

  The scent of the alcohol hit him, familiar. It was the right color too, no ash. But… something was wrong.

  Obsidian was his club, but why was it closed? Where were the patrons? Where were the bartenders? The staff? The one with the silver hair… What was her name?

  “Something wrong, friend?” the woman asked, so close to him now he could feel the heat rising off her body. She smelled like fire. Felt like it too.