I stood from the sofa, feeling tired and weary all of a sudden. “He doesn’t know.”
“Why not?” Kat grinned. “Your angel is hot, isn’t he?”
I choked on a laugh. “Aren’t all angels?”
“And demons too, I’m afraid.”
“And saints,” I added with a wink.
She rolled her eyes. “On that fine note, I’ll say good night. But you should tell Jude. He might be miffed another Flamma is trying to play protector to you, but angels don’t have ulterior motives. Not bad ones, that is.” Her pretty brows puckered into a frown for about the fourth time tonight. “Not that I know of, anyway.”
With a whoosh, she sifted out, a wave of sandy beach wafting through the room. I wandered into Jude’s bedroom, kicked off my boots and clothes, donned one of his T-shirts and climbed into his bed. Alone.
I wasn’t so sure Thomas didn’t have an ulterior motive. It might not be wicked or evil per se, but it definitely might not be one Jude would approve. The look of adoration in his eyes as he shielded me from the filth in that demon pit tonight would not leave me as I wrapped my hand around my moon opal and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Eight
My bare feet made no sound in powdery snow. A feather-soft gown whispered against my ankles. The white blanket of winter stretched wide and long, an endless plane. Naked trees, stark and black against a pristine canvas, circled a clearing. My pounding heart drew me closer. No wind. No sound. Only my quick breaths puffing out in swirling vapor.
I stepped beyond the trees where a small pool, clear and blue-green, marked the center. The pool steamed. Squatting at the edge, I peered at my reflection. Dark hair long and loose, blue eyes shining bright, pink lips parted in wonder. The pool rippled, speaking to me, beckoning.
Reaching forward, I touched the pad of my middle finger to the surface. Warm water rushed up my fingers, my hand, my arm, pulling me down. I went without a struggle, longing for the comfort it offered, embraced in blue serenity. The water transformed. Strong arms, broad shoulders, muscled torso, heavy thighs wrapped me in deep calm. This prince of winter had a face, a beautiful one with sea-green eyes, shining down with affection, admiration…longing. He leaned close, whispering something I couldn’t hear.
His lips found mine, brushing soft and sweet, kissing them open for his tongue to come inside. Still no sound, only the sensual caress of Thomas covering me with his body, his hands, his mouth. We lay in the clearing on the snow, but no cold touched me. Only the sensation of heat filling my blood, pumping my heart, racing along my skin. I floated in some surreal place. A paradise offering pleasure not peace. Desire was a constant, desperate thing, urging me on. I arched against him, pressed my breasts to his chest, opened my legs, laced my fingers into his silky hair, stroked my tongue against his, needing him closer, closer…deeper.
I gasped awake. Panting. Shaking.
The sound and smell of bacon frying in the kitchen snapped me from my daze.
I jumped out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. After stripping and placing my necklace on the counter, I stepped under the shower, letting the steaming water wash away the dream-memory of Thomas’s hands on my skin, his lips on mine.
What was that?
By the time I dried off and pulled on a pair of jeans and a top from the bottom drawer of Jude’s dresser, I felt ten times better. I’d recently started storing some of my clothes here for sleepovers, which seemed to be more and more often.
While brushing my teeth, I tried to rid myself of the guilt. It wasn’t cheating if my subconscious did the deed. Right? But why would I be thinking such things, even in sleep?
Now in the full light of day in Jude’s home, I felt grounded, stable, safe. Far away from wicked thoughts that had no place in my head.
I walked into the kitchen, twisting my hair into a messy bun. Sitting at the table, I pulled my knees under my chin. Our morning routine had become habitual in recent weeks. Some nights, I stayed at my place, but Mindy and David were so disgustingly wrapped around each other that I felt like I was invading their honeymoon suite rather than living in my apartment. I’d opted to crash at Jude’s more times than I could count. He didn’t seem to mind, though I rarely had the pleasure of his company at night when he was out on the hunt for the prophecy.
Shirtless in jeans, Jude stood over the stove, stirring scrambled eggs in a pan. I let my eyes have their fill. Strange thing was, I never did get my fill, never did get bored of shamelessly ogling this beautiful man. His magnificent, full-back tattoo of St. Michael the Archangel slaying the devil rippled as if it were alive, moving over tight muscles beneath tan-and-ink skin.
Scooping eggs and bacon onto a plate, he turned to bring it to me, knowing I was already there. I jumped to my feet.
“What happened to your chest!”
“Good morning.” He pecked me on the forehead and placed my breakfast on the table.
I angled his hard-muscled body toward the light filtering through the bay window. He let me move him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have budged him an inch. A long gash crossed from his inside shoulder about seven inches across his pectoral, slashing across the right arm of his Celtic cross tattoo. He’d stitched it up himself. I recognized the stitching, having had his handiwork on my abdomen after a scrape with demons two months ago.
“It’s fine. I had a run-in with a demon spawn last night.”
“It doesn’t look fine.” I kept my fingers away from the wound, examining closer under the morning light. “What kind of demon spawn?”
“A titan. A big one.”
Most spawn, created by high demons, took small unassuming forms, such as the dark mind-mist Gorham used to control the innocent girls in his strip club. Rarely had I heard about the furies or titans. I’d never seen either myself.
“What were you doing confronting it alone? Damn it, Jude.”
His hands wrapped my waist, pulling me closer. A small smile creased his typically grave expression.
“Worried for me?”
“Of course I am, you stupid oaf. You go wandering off by yourself to God knows where doing God knows what. You don’t tell me anything, and you come back here with a huge gash across your chest. Just a bit higher, and it would’ve taken your stupid head.”
He chuckled.
“It’s not funny.”
“I know.”
“Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m not.”
He pulled me closer. I scowled, arms crossed to keep him at a distance.
“It’s been a long time since anyone has worried about me.”
I sobered at the thought. He wasn’t mocking my irritation. He was genuinely happy someone cared. I opened my arms and gripped his biceps to keep from pressing against his wound.
“And if it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t alone. George joined me last night.”
I exhaled in relief. “Good. So tell me what kind of spawn could do something like this.”
“A nasty piece of work. Not sure who created the creature, but it guarded an ancient place in the East believed to hold old relics. George and I thought the prophecy might be within.”
“And was it?”
He shook his head, expression fading to the pensive stonelike façade I knew so well.
“Kat and I discovered something, though I doubt it will help much.” He waited rather than ask me to spill it. Jude preferred nonverbal communication. His hands tightened on my waist a fraction, reminding me of his dominant presence. As if I could forget. “The lower demon we visited said he once worked for the demon prince who had the prophecy last. Damas.”
Jude’s expression darkened. He released me in a slow, deliberate manner, turning to face the window. The room heated by several degrees. Jude carried an aura of flame wherever he went. Unseen except in moments of pure rage, it simmered along the surface. Most of the time, he kept this odd quirk of his under control. But when his anger rose, so did the fire within.
“When and where did
this demon work for Damas?”
The menace infused in his tone when he spoke the prince’s name made me shiver. I’d hate to be on the receiving end of such malice. The demons were scary monsters, but Jude was scarier.
“Centuries ago at Glastonbury Abbey. But Dommiel’s informant claims Damas hid it somewhere else.”
Silence reigned for what felt like forever. Jude could be the poster boy for dark and brooding.
I could practically see the heat recoil into him as he regained his composure. He spun to leave the room. “Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold.”
I followed after him. “What are you going to do? Go after Damas?”
He made a laughing sort of noise, denoting hatred, not humor. “I’m afraid Damas is the master at hiding. No one has seen him for ages. Trust me. I’ve been looking.”
“Then what’s the plan?”
I trailed after him into his weapons room. He headed straight for the glass-encased wall and removed a rough-hewn iron sword with a Crusader’s cross engraved in the hilt. The moment Jude touched it, my VS sang to life, pulsing a white light under my skin. Distracted by my VS power, Jude captured my gaze, drawing me in, rocketing my pulse faster as if he had a control fastened to my heart. He slowed his movements, coming closer with the sword at his side. The aura of Vessel power I’d come to think of as my underlight glowed brighter as he closed the distance.
He smiled. “Your power grows.”
“Yes. But don’t ask me what this means, because it often has a mind of its own.”
His gaze roved over my skin with a sense of awe.
“What do you intend to do?”
“Go to Glastonbury.”
“But the prophecy isn’t there anymore. That’s where it was written. Surely, Damas wouldn’t keep it there.”
“Perhaps not, but sometimes demons leave something behind that marks a trail.”
“Like what?”
His grin was a feral thing. “Demon spawn.” He glanced down at the sword again, placing it on a velvet cloth near his whetstone.
“Jude, take me with you.”
He gave a noncommittal shake of the head before setting out an oil used in sharpening the blade.
“Jude. You have to take me with you.” My voice cracked.
He halted and put the weapon down. The recognition of my desperation shone clear in his immediate attentiveness. We were so attuned to one another.
“What’s wrong?” He pulled me into a gentle embrace, holding me so that he could see my face.
I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d let the fear and darkness of last night start to smother me. The demon pit in the swamp had weighed down my spirit, making my heart heavy. The fear came from those feelings of helplessness, of drowning in the murky depths of evil and sin. An emotion I knew every Vessel before me had felt, a sensation I’d experienced myself when Danté had possessed my soul for the briefest of moments. I also knew the fate of every Vessel before me, my chest clenching tight at the thought. A fate I refused to acknowledge would be mine.
There was something else that poured dread into my spirit ever since I’d awoken this morning. The fact that in that hellish pit last night when the heaviness swelled to breaking me, Thomas was the one to buoy me back up to the light. Thomas had been there to keep me from slipping under. I wanted Jude, not Thomas. No matter what my subconscious might be trying to tell me, Jude was the man of my heart.
His warm, callused hand cupped my cheek, angling my face to meet his gaze. Sparks of amber broke apart the black swirling pools. A rare sight. Knowing that the true gold of his eyes grew brighter—glittering through the black residue of the souls he’d cast into hell—whenever his emotions shifted away from darkness, I smiled. My eyesight blurred. I swallowed the lump in my throat, not realizing how desperate I’d become in a matter of minutes.
“What is it, my heart?” The soft tenor of his rough tone made me want to sob.
I closed my eyes, unable to tell him all I felt. Especially unwilling to speak of Thomas—too afraid he would see last night’s dream written in lines of guilt on my face. A tear slipped down my cheek.
“We’re always apart these days, Jude.” I opened my eyes, imploring him to understand without my having to confess too much. “I want to be with you. Not just in these brief moments hidden away in your place. Or mine. I want to fight with you, to do this together. I want to really be with you.”
Something had come over me so suddenly, the reality that this battle between good and evil was setting up residence between us, dividing us by day and night. A supernatural presence within me warned of the danger, warned of all that was at stake should Jude and I ever separate.
On the other hand, I felt foolish. Was I being overemotional because the moment of my twentieth birthday, my world had begun falling apart? I’d been chased and nearly killed by demons on a daily basis. I spent more time lurking in demon pits than I did in the campus library. I’d realized that college was of no real use to me because the world was soon coming to an end. Or the world as we knew it. I’d come to the horrifying realization that I’d outlive every person I loved. Except for the one standing before me.
I watched as his emotions warred behind otherworldly eyes—fear for my safety against the undeniable need to make me content. He pressed my cheek to the warmth of his bare chest. I sighed, breathing in the masculine scent of him, my heart tripping faster at his nearness, at the protective grip of his arms around me.
He pressed a kiss to my crown, gliding his hand up and down my back, soothing me with gentle strokes.
“Okay,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll take you with me tonight.”
My spirit soared. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing. Not only would I finally travel with Jude tonight, but I also suspected his presence would keep Thomas from making any sudden appearances. I needed to put some distance between myself and the guardian angel who’d found his way into my dreams.
Chapter Nine
A sliver of moon hung in the southern night sky. So peaceful here, standing in Jude’s courtyard. Honking horns, lilting laughter, a drift of saxophone—all joyful sounds of life in the Quarter. I tried to remember what it was like to live oblivious to the world of demons hunting humans, of angels watching from afar, of hunters casting out evil, of humankind slipping toward a violent end. Two months? Felt like I’d known this all my life and was only now coming to the startling realization my role was vital in the coming war. The growing darkness threatened to swallow me whole. Before my thoughts could fall too far, Jude sifted in front of me.
He had the sword from earlier strapped to his back. I knew because my underlight instantly glowed to life. My VS pulsed with the object so near, always warning me when Flamma or something with their essence was nearby. I had a close call the other night when I was packing my textbooks away. I had picked up my copy of The Captain’s Captive, which held the feather Dommiel had given me for summoning him. Unprepared, I was shocked when my skin instantly started to glow with Mindy popping us popcorn for our movie in the kitchen. I had to chuck my backpack in my closet and cast illusion to hide the fact I was beaming like Tinkerbelle.
Glowing like a firefly in Jude’s courtyard, I knew there was something special about this sword to make my aura burn bright.
“Tell me about your sword.”
He stepped closer, half in shadow, a distinctly devilish grin creasing his face. I felt a flush of heat crawl up my neck, knowing full well the direction his thoughts had taken.
“Mind out of the gutter, Delacroix. The sword on your back.”
Ignoring my presumptuous comment, he unsheathed one of my daggers, examining the blade. For sharpness, of course. I’d learned to ready my weapons for every excursion. Unless I wanted to withstand the wrath of Jude.
“It was a gift from Uriel.”
“The Archangel.” The one I’d met only once, but could never forget, the impact beyond powerful.
“Yes.”
“Wh
y would he give you such a gift?”
He unbuckled my harness at the shoulder, moving it up a notch to tighten, smoothing the leather straps into place.
“Imbued with his power, it gives me more strength to fulfill a particular request he had for me.”
“Which was?”
Checking the other strap but finding it well adjusted, he dropped his arms, finally meeting my gaze.
“To join the Crusades. Not to defeat infidels in the Holy Land, mind you, but to destroy a horde of demons that’d set up camp there, feeding on the weakness of vulnerable humans.” Jude’s face remained in shadow, peering down. “Uriel joined me in the battle. As did George and a host of other hunters.”
I considered, musing over my knowledge of angels, knowing much less of them than I did demons.
“So Uriel does get involved when he sees fit.”
“Yes. Sometimes. Angels have their own objectives and rarely share them with any of us.”
Angels weren’t always aloof. A fact I knew with Thomas making sudden appearances.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Jude lifted my hand, turning it palm up, trailing his finger over my wrist and along the lines creasing the skin.
My underlight burned brighter. This was not an erogenous zone, so I stared stupidly, wondering how the hell he’d made desire spike in a millisecond from simply caressing my hand.
“This means you’re attuned more to the Light.”
Drawn away from his hypnotic ministrations on my palm and wrist, I met his dark gaze. His slanted smile made everything inside do a backflip.
“You can stop worrying so much.” He tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “What happened at the ball hasn’t dampened your Vessel power.”
“I don’t understand why others haven’t been able to take me.” No need to mention Danté’s name or his brothers. Or the line of demon dukes and earls wanting to use me for their wicked deeds. While Gorham was able to sift me out, he couldn’t take me into Bamal’s lair in hell. Otherwise, he would’ve done so the second he latched on to me in his raunchy nightclub. My Vessel power was obviously overwhelming any harm I’d done to taint my soul by killing Nathaniel.
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