Jacks had gone very still. The only parts of him that moved were his pupils, dilating until his eyes were nearly full black. Luc’s eyes hadn’t done that. Then again, Luc hadn’t been a Fate when he’d been infected.
“Do you want to be a vampire?” Evangeline asked.
“No,” Jacks spat. “I don’t want to be a vampire, but I do want to bite you.”
Evangeline’s skin went hot all over.
Jacks ground his teeth, looking furious at her for still being there. “You should go,” he repeated.
“I’m not leaving you like this.” Evangeline searched the entryway for shackles.
“You are not pinning me to a wall.” Jacks glared.
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
An unsettling victory cry echoed below. Another changeling was probably free. The noise sounded as if it was a decent way underground, but Evangeline wondered if the changeling might sense where she was, if it was somehow aware there was a human nearby.
“How good is your sense of smell?” she asked.
Jacks’s nostrils flared again. “You smell like fear and—” Something unreadable flickered across his face. But whatever he was going to say next became cut off by another sound from below—like thunder racing up the stairs.
Without another word, both of them darted for the exit.
Outside, the chilly winter night was almost too bright. The moon had come out from hiding behind the clouds to pay particular attention to Jacks, illuminating his perfect jaw, his long lashes, and the twist of his petulant mouth. He looked like ethereal heartbreak. She kept feeling the urge to turn her head and take just one more glimpse, and she knew it was vampire allure. The inescapable draw of dangerous beauty and power.
“Why aren’t you running away?” he asked.
“Given the way you keep looking at me, I imagine you’ll give chase, or you’ll find another human who you wouldn’t feel guilty about biting.”
I wouldn’t feel guilty about biting you.
Evangeline didn’t know if the voice in her head was a threat, a lapse in Jacks’s control, or just a warning that she was running out of time.
“You should go,” he repeated.
She ignored him and scoured the darkened graveyard once more. A desperate but possibly inspired idea occurred as Evangeline caught sight of a mausoleum covered in flowering vines of angels’ tears that glowed milky white beneath the moon.
“There.” She pointed toward the structure. “We’ll go inside. Families plant angels’ tears when they want to protect the bodies of loved ones from demonic spirits.” She knew because she’d done it for both her parents. “This mausoleum is covered in the plant, which means there are probably other protections inside—like a gate with a lock to keep the coffins safe.”
A muscle in Jacks’s neck throbbed. “You wish to lock me in a coffin?”
“Not a coffin, just on the other side of the gate, and only until dawn.”
“I don’t need to be locked up. I can control myself.”
“Then why do you keep telling me to run?” She lifted her eyes to meet Jacks’s stare.
A split second later, Jacks had her pinned against the closest tree. Her back hit the wood, his fevered chest pressed to hers, and his hands went for her throat, burning fire hot against her skin.
“Jacks,” Evangeline gasped. “Let me go.”
He moved away as quickly as he’d grabbed her.
She slumped against the tree from the force of his release. When she righted herself, he was stalking toward the crypt.
Evangeline rubbed her neck as she followed. He hadn’t held her that tightly, but her skin still felt scorched from the touch of his hands. “I thought vampires were supposed to be cold.” And Jacks was always cold.
“Vampire venom is hot, especially when they’re hungry,” Jacks rasped as he yanked open the door to the mausoleum.
As she’d suspected, this chamber had been built by the superstitious. Ever-lit torches clung to the walls, providing some warmth and casting a glow on an excellent floor-to-ceiling iron gate that separated any would-be visitors from the four stone coffins on the opposite side of it.
“What now?” Jacks said roughly.
Evangeline quickly approached the gate. She didn’t recognize all the protective iron symbols that had been worked into the design, but the bars looked thick enough to hold Jacks, at least for several more hours until the sun decided to rise. She wished the lock on the gate was stronger, but it would have to do.