Sealed in Sin

by Juliette Cross

  “I’m here to help you.”

  That voice again, deep and mesmerizing.

  “That’s not an answer.” Definitely Flamma, but which kind. Naughty or nice? I couldn’t tell. “How do you know me?”

  His smile widened, making my pulse pound faster.

  “I’ve known you a long time. I’ve watched over you your entire life.”

  I examined him more closely. His power lapped against my VS like ocean waves, a gentle suction with each ripple before washing over me in a gentle caress. Though his power didn’t scream its presence or beat against mine, he was potent all the same. The perfect stoic expression, the controlled, straight-backed stance, the undeniable, breathtaking beauty. He exuded the essence of—

  “Holy crap.” I gulped. “You’re an angel.”

  His smile widened, his beauty brightening into something painful. I lowered my trembling hand, sheathing my dagger. An angel who’d watched over me my whole life.

  “Not just any angel…my, my guardian angel. Aren’t you?”

  A dip of his strong chin.

  While he didn’t emanate the same pulse-pounding aura of Uriel, the Archangel who created the Dominus Daemonum, he carried a similar cast of heavenly essence. He tucked his hands in his pants pockets, appearing completely harmless. But I wasn’t fooled. Even angels could be dangerous.

  “Have you never sensed my presence?” he asked, eyes steady on mine.

  “No. Not really.” I remembered all the near misses in my life, when I somehow avoided danger or trouble by an internal niggling. Was that him? “Why have you never shown yourself before?”

  “Guardians tend to stay in the shadows.” My self-proclaimed guardian, Jude, might not like him staking a claim on that position. “And would you have believed me if I’d ever told you of my existence? Before your twentieth birthday, that is.”

  On my twentieth birthday, I’d been attacked and nearly strangled to death until Jude came along, did his voodoo mojo and ripped a bony demon from inside my would-be killer. That night changed everything, including my belief in angels and demons walking the earth.

  “No.” I smiled. “I guess not.”

  My cell phone vibrated in my back pocket. I answered.

  “Where the hell are you!” screamed Kat.

  “Um, Central Park.” The angel gave me a slight nod. “There’s a pond and a picnic area. I’m looking directly at the Empire State Building in the distance.”

  “Stay put. Dorian and I will be there in two.”

  I tucked the phone in my jacket.

  Wind blew over the water, rippling the surface. My hair had come loose in the melee, dark wisps crossing my face. Pool-green eyes followed the strands, then my hand when I tucked them behind my ear. His keen observation transformed a simple moment into something that made me breathless. He’d moved closer, within a yard, and I hadn’t noticed. I stepped back.

  “Stay where you are.”

  “What are you afraid of?” His voice dropped, not lower but deeper, like it was pulling on something hidden within me. My blood pumped faster. “That I’ll sift you away somewhere you don’t want to go? I could’ve done that already. And I told you. I’ve watched over you all of your life, kept you safe from harm so that you could reach maturity.”

  “You almost bungled that. I’ve been nearly killed like a hundred times.”

  “Nearly.” He shrugged. “The demon hunter was there. Most of the time.”

  My heart plummeted into my stomach. With those last three words, I realized this angel knew about Danté. Why hadn’t he saved me then? Before Danté had invaded my soul.

  “It would be much easier for you to escape your enemies if you had the power to sift.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I snapped back.

  He smiled, then angled his head as if listening for something.

  “I must go.” He reached out a hand for me to shake. I eyed him with suspicion. “It’s a friendly gesture, Genevieve. One does this in greeting and parting. Sometimes a person even says thank you when one saves another from harm.”

  My VS tingled, recognizing his power, finding no danger. I stepped forward, holding his gaze as I took his hand. I gasped. The second our hands made contact, a whisper of winter wind caressed my body from head to toe, but I felt no cold, only a sensual embrace tingling along my skin. My knees nearly buckled.

  “Th-thank you,” I stammered.

  Edging close, still holding my hand, he trailed his gaze from my eyes to my hair, down my cheek to my parted lips, agape from the strange sensation of his touch, before he met my eyes once more.

  “You’re more than welcome.” He smiled, probably at my dumbfounded expression. “Until we meet again, dear Genevieve.”

  He sifted out, leaving me with the scent of snow and mountain air.

  My VS honed in on other Flamma. Friends. I spotted Kat and her New York partner, Dorian, sprinting around a bend and catching sight of me.

  Kat’s frown softened as she drew closer. “What happened? How the hell did you get here?”

  The Dominus Daemonum at her side wore a crooked smile and a broadsword slung over his back like he was taking a Sunday stroll.

  “So you’re Dorian.”

  “Dorian Hall, at your service,” he said in a sultry Southern drawl, sweeping a bow as they reached me. An actual bow. Even in jeans and a charcoal duster with a scar denting his top lip, he had the air of a gentleman. Rugged and mischievous, but still a gentleman.

  “Were you a prince or something in your former life, demon hunter?”

  He grinned, tossing a heavy lock of blond out of his eyes. “Afraid not, Ms. Drake. I was the son of a plantation farmer in my ‘former life’.” He found me amusing, it seemed.

  “A Southern charmer, eh?”

  “I’ve been known to charm a lady or two.” He winked.

  “I bet.”

  “Shut up, Dorian. Stop flirting.” Kat whipped back at me. “Now tell me who the hell brought you here.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know exactly.”

  Kat’s eyes bugged. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I didn’t get his name.”

  “Didn’t get his name!”

  “Why are you repeating everything I say? Look, he said he was my guardian angel, but I didn’t catch his name.” Forgot to ask that. In addition to the million other questions I wanted to ask.

  “Your guardian angel? They don’t make themselves known,” she scoffed, hand on poked-out hip. “I think I’ve come across maybe one in my two centuries wandering this damn planet.”

  “Mine showed up today. Quite conveniently, I might add. Otherwise, I’d be in the hands of Bamal.”

  Dorian scratched the dark blond scruff on his chin. “How do you know he was an angel? And not a demon.”

  “Pffft. I think I know a demon when I see one.”

  “Do you?”

  He studied me with an indifferent expression, almost amused. The thin white scar crossed diagonally from his lower cheekbone to his upper lip, about two inches in length. Rather than mar his good looks, it heightened them to a dangerous beauty. Dark eyes—like Jude’s—gazed back, awaiting my answer. A hint of autumn and spice brushed over me like rustling leaves. For a second, I thought it was our surroundings, before realizing it was his signature.

  “Yes,” I finally answered. “I do. Demons are evil, filthy creatures. My VS picks up on their pin-pricking auras pretty damn quick.”

  “VS?” Dorian quirked a brow.

  Kat waved a hand like shooing a fly. “Her Vessel Sense.”

  “Ah.” He shifted, gaze sweeping the area. “Demons are liars too.”

  I rolled my eyes. Like he was pointing out something I didn’t know.

  “I get all the fuss. You were worried. Got it. But if it was a demon, do you think he would’ve taken me to this public place for safety? Would he have simply left me here? He could’ve sifted me anywhere.”

  Neither had an answer. Kat chewed her bot
tom lip.

  “I’ll admit his identity is a bit of a mystery, but seriously, Kat. He’s gone now. If guardian angels are the aloof creatures you say, then I’ll probably never see him again.”

  “Let’s move this conversation elsewhere.” Dorian’s eyes darted around, but he kept his stance casual. “I’ve got to get back and be sure the cops find the girls.”

  “Right.” Kat heaved out a frustrated breath. “I’ve got to get you back home in case Jude checks in early.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” I stretched out my hand for Kat. “He’s been preoccupied on the prophecy hunt.”

  As we sifted home, something tickled the back of my mind. A sensation of windswept rock dusted with snow rooted around my VS, convincing me of two things. One, my guardian angel would definitely visit me again. Two, he wouldn’t wait very long.

  Chapter Four

  Mindy squealed and plopped her blinged-out cell phone on the counter. “Mom made Bill reserve us rooms at The Plaza!” She hopped on a stool while I cooked. “Oooo, bacon.” She shoved a piece in her dainty mouth, watching me stir the pancake batter, deep in thought. “Why aren’t you excited about our trip?”

  “I am. I just…have a lot on my mind,” I replied, turning back to the stove.

  We’d wanted to go to New York together ever since I can remember. When my father finally gave me the okay along with the plane tickets for my twentieth birthday, I couldn’t wait to go. Of course, that was before there was this whole issue of Bamal and his minions skulking about, waiting to do me sadistic harm. Suddenly, the trip didn’t hold quite as much charm as it once had. And Mindy hadn’t shut up about her mom’s plans for us. I loved Miss Donna, who’d become like a mother to me after my own died ten years ago. It was Miss Donna’s idea to go the week of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade when her boyfriend, Bill Bridges, was scheduled for a business trip the whole month of November. We’d get to reap all the executive perks while we were there—limousines, Broadway tickets, posh dinners. This was our little-girl dreams coming true.

  Mindy crunched another piece of bacon, louder than the first. “You haven’t told Jude about our trip yet. Have you?”

  I cleared my throat. “No. But I will.”

  “Are you afraid to tell him? Don’t tell me he’s the über-possessive type who won’t let you out of his sight.”

  Jude? Possessive? Ha! If she only knew. It had nothing to do with keeping me under his thumb, but more about keeping the demons from killing or kidnapping me. Couldn’t blame a guy for that.

  “Well,” continued Mindy, crunching her bacon like a cow. For looking like a Southern belle Barbie doll, she certainly wasn’t prissy like one. “I suppose I’d put up with anything if Dave looked like that.”

  “Ow! Damn it.” I yanked my hand away from the sizzling pan, eyeing my thumb where I’d just burned it.

  “You okay? Need some ice?”

  “No. It’s fine,” I grumbled.

  “Hmmm. You’ve been awfully distracted lately. How are classes going?”

  “Classes?” I asked, dropping a dollop of butter in the pan.

  “Yeah. Classes. You know, college, graduation, career, that sort of thing.”

  “Very funny. I’m just—”

  “Distracted. Yeah, I got that.”

  “I’m fine in everything, except Bennett’s Lit class. Can’t seem to get there on time these days.”

  She pulled two plates from the cabinet and started piling on pancakes. “Hmph. Could you be avoiding it because of a certain someone in the class you dated and ditched?”

  I gave her my death glare. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  So maybe I was avoiding the class because of Malcolm. We’d always been friends. But then, like an idiot, I’d gone on a date with him, knowing I was driving a stake through our friendship because I couldn’t ever form any deep feelings for the guy after Jude had planted his feet, firmly and fiercely, in my life. Then Jude had kissed me that first night, sending Malcolm permanently to the “friendship” category. So now I hated that class with a passion, avoiding his side-long glances and accusing looks. Better to bomb the course. On top of that, Professor Bennett was an asshat know-it-all, and prolonged time in the room with him made me want to bash my head against the wall.

  I sighed heavily. “I’ll pass the class. Don’t worry, Mom.”

  “Sass me all you want, but if you want to do that learning-abroad program or whatever, you have to have the grades.” She picked up the plates and headed toward the living room where her boyfriend, Dave, was waiting for her.

  I’d brought up the idea to my dad of doing a semester in the Liberal Arts Abroad Program for the spring semester. Another lie to pile onto the others to hide my true motives. I couldn’t tell him I needed time off from school and working at his dojo to hunt demons and a lost prophecy that could save or doom the world. So I put a little bug in his ear, hoping he’d go for it, to give me an out from school next semester.

  “Hiiii, Juuude.” Mindy actually cooed his name as she crossed into the living room right before the man himself waltzed into my kitchen.

  “Hello, Mindy.” As always, he sounded dark and rough, which did strange things to my insides.

  Apparently, Dave let him in. Not that a door could or would stop Jude Delacroix from going wherever he damn well pleased. Still, it was nice when he pretended to be human, knocking and stuff, rather than appearing out of nowhere and scaring the bejeezus out of me. He had to put on the whole I’m-normal-and-walk-through-doors routine at my apartment when Mindy was home.

  The moment he entered the room, all my senses rose to full alert. The man packed enough heat and power in his aura to melt a girl into jelly. A mere glance from his dark eyes or slight touch from rough hands, and I was lost.

  I focused on flipping the pancakes on the stove, still trying to figure out how to tell him about our trip to the House of Hades, the near-miss with Gorham, and the brief and strange meeting with my guardian angel. Kat preferred asking forgiveness rather than permission, or just omitting the admission of any sins altogether. But I had trouble lying, though I seemed to do it often as of late. I especially had trouble lying to Jude.

  “Want some brinner?” I asked, plopping another dollop of butter in the pan.

  “Brinner? What might that be?” He leaned with his back against the counter next to the stove, splaying one huge hand on the countertop, watching me pour the batter into the pan. How did this man make watching me cook a sexy thing?

  “You’ve never heard of brinner?” I glanced at the door to make sure Mindy was out of earshot. “For someone who’s been alive nearly two thousand years, you don’t know a whole lot.”

  He slid a finger down my forearm. I nearly dropped the spatula. He leaned closer, his chest brushing my shoulder, voice dropping several decibels. “Educate me.” And just like that, my heart slammed into my rib cage, my thoughts scattering to the wind. I stared at him, knowing my eyes were no longer hungry for pancakes. He pressed warm lips, a feather-soft kiss, to the slope between my neck and shoulder. “Genevieve?” Another press of lips higher up my neck, melting me into goo.

  “Hm?” Eyes closed, I welcomed a third kiss just under my jaw.

  “Your brinner is burning.”

  “Oh, dammit!”

  I snapped open my eyes, grabbed the smoking pan and thrust it under the water faucet in the sink. A hissing crackle spit up more smoke.

  “There goes brinner.”

  “You’ve made more than enough already.”

  He motioned to the ten-high stack with a smirk. I couldn’t even think about eating now. Not after that kiss. And not with this guilt weighing me down.

  Something registered in his gaze. He reached out his hand.

  “Come here.”

  From his expression, I wasn’t sure if he planned to give me a hug or a spanking. I wouldn’t mind either. Taking his hand, I let him pull me into his arms.

  The familiar molten-steel illusion that Jude cast
when we touched immediately locked on to me. Flamma cast illusion to trick their enemies’ eyes and demonic senses. There were no enemies in the kitchen of my apartment, but Jude couldn’t help himself. Whenever he touched me, his armor coated me in a snap.

  He circled one hand around my waist to the small of my back. I stared at his collarbone, admiring the visible part of his full-torso tattoo poking out the top of his black T-shirt. The top of his intricate Celtic cross entwined by thorny vines became extremely interesting all of a sudden. He tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his dark gaze.

  I didn’t say a word, though I’m sure my conscience screamed loud and clear.

  “Tell me.”

  I bit my bottom lip, suddenly nervous. His black eyes glinted with sparks of gold. I knew now that all Dominus Daemonum were characterized by the swirling black in their irises. I refused to open my mouth and confess a word. Jude changed tactics, one that would surely bend me to his will and loosen my tongue.

  Leaning down, he slanted firm lips over mine, forcing them apart. He swept in, tongue stroking over mine. He spread his fingers into my hair, curling at my nape and the back of my skull to keep me in place while he tasted and tormented with sensual intent. Gradually, I grew soft in his arms, curving against the hard wall of his chest. Opening my mouth wider, I let him take whatever he wanted. He hadn’t kissed me like this since the Crescent City Masquerade Ball on Halloween. Not since I’d made a drastic mistake, effectively barring him from touching me in any intimate way. To want Jude and not be able to have him—all of him in every way—was excruciating torture all its own.

  I moaned, lifting on my toes to draw closer. He slipped the hand on my back under my shirt, giving me glorious skin-on-skin contact, pressing me harder against him. He moved his other hand to wrap the nape of my neck beneath my fall of hair. He stroked deep once more with his tongue before pulling away, nipping lightly on kiss-swollen lips. It was over too soon. My heart and body ached for much more. I tried not to whimper. Tried.

  I hadn’t realized I’d clenched both fists in his shirt until my gaze dropped to his chest. He nuzzled into my hair, lips brushing the shell of my ear. Heat lanced from that spot to much lower places. He did that on purpose. Not fair.