She narrowed her eyes at his back. Asshole! He had no right to order her around. She’d left the Coven. Hell, what she’d just done made her a flat-out warlock. Thomas Monahan held no power over her.

“Give me your hand,” said Jack.

She unlocked her jaw and raised her hand, shifting gingerly on the floor of the limo and snagging the heel of her shoe in the carpet.

He took her hand between his palms. Jack was a fire witch and, therefore, could heal. She’d always found it odd that the power resided in such a destructive element. Her hand grew warm, tingled, and the pain receded. When he released her, the skin was pink and healing quickly. He jerked his chin at the seat. “Sit down with your back to me.”

Carefully, she pushed up and slid onto the seat. Ripples of pain shot through her back and down her legs. She blew out a careful breath as nausea swamped her.

Jack sat behind her and placed his palms along her spine, one above the other. His hands, completely businesslike on her back, grew warm. Her twisted back improved immediately. “I don’t remember your hair being this dark a shade of red or your eyes being green, Isabelle.”

“I colored my hair and I’m wearing contacts.”

“All the better to stalk your prey, hmm?”

“I guess. Stefan prefers redheads.”

“Good disguise. None of us recognized you in the tabloids. We didn’t know who you were, or that you were even a witch. It wasn’t until tonight, when we saw you up close, that we realized your identity. All we knew was that this evening Stefan’s flavor-of-the-month had finally convinced him to shed his bodyguards for sex.”

She let out a small laugh. “You guys were piggybacking my seduction as a way to take Stefan hostage?”

“Yep. We were watching, waiting for an opportunity. You gave us a surprise when we opened the limo door. Never saw that one coming.” He paused. “I’m sorry about your sister. I understand why you went after Stefan.”