Heart of Thorns

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Seeing no better options at the moment—not her finest, mind you—Jacinda Colburn followed her captor out of Bloodbath and into the bright Manhattan day.

Gabriel winced at the sunlight and hurried their pace, weaving them through the stumbling, post-hangover brunch crowd toward a nondescript building across the street, about halfway down the block.

If anyone noticed the fact that she and the vampire were covered in blood and looked like they’d been set on fire and run over with a dump truck six times, they kept the commentary to themselves.

A small comfort in what was otherwise a flaming-s**t-sandwich of a day.

“Where are we going?” Jaci demanded, struggling to keep pace in her bare feet. She’d lost her favorite heels in the attack last night, which sucked almost as much as her current predicament.

“Home,” came the prick’s reply. No elaboration.

Reality, harsh and sudden, b***h-slapped her across the face.

“Wait. You expect me to move in with you?” She stopped on the sidewalk before the building’s entrance, forcing him to turn around. “No. No way. That was not part of the deal.”

Gabriel grabbed her arm, glaring down at her with those deadly green eyes that made her shiver.

Damn it. Being in such close proximity to the vampire prince was like being stuck in perpetual winter. Forget exsanguination—the first time those cold green eyes pinned her this morning, she’d nearly died of hypothermia.

Until he’d put his mouth on her skin and damn near set her on fire…

No. She wouldn’t even give that thought room to grow. The prince might’ve set her nerves ablaze with that little stunt in the VIP room, but clearly that was some temporary Stockholm-Syndrome-induced insanity on her part, because Gabriel Redthorne was just all kinds of wrong.

You could see it in those eyes.

“I expect you to obey me,” he growled, the threat in his gravelly voice turning an otherwise panty-melting British accent into a thing of nightmares. “If you think I’m above making a gruesome scene on a public street, feel free to push me.”

Jaci didn’t need to push him. Crazy eyes never lie—she’d learned that from her sister.

A different sort of shiver threatened to overtake her, but she fought it off.

The vampire continued his brooding glare. Out there in the daylight, his eyes were a lighter shade of green than she’d first thought, like new moss clinging to an old stone.

“Are you coming willingly, witch, or are we already renegotiating our terms? Not off to the best start, it seems.”

She opened her mouth to tell him just how far off he could go f**k, but then thought better of it.

Bide your time, girl. Pick your battles.

As much as Jaci hated to admit it—hated getting stuck in this ridiculous predicament with yet another cocky vampire who thought witches were their personal property—she needed him. Even more than she needed a shower and a bucket of bleach and some new heels, which was saying something.

Besides, as monstrous as Gabriel Redthorne was, Renault Duchanes was worse.

Renault would always be worse.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, Jaci gestured toward the door. “Lead the way, Prince.”