“How long?” I asked.
“We didn’t stipulate a timeframe,” he said. “I guess until I say so.” He kicked off his boots and flopped onto my down comforter on his stomach. His long, well-muscled body shrank my queen-size bed.
“We’re playing a different game next time,” I said, climbing on top of him and straddling his bum.
“You were the one who wanted to play Battleship.”
I heaved a sigh, pretending this was a chore to glide my hands up his back and over his tight frame. I’d beaten my dad at Battleship a million times, but something made me wonder if I’d lost on purpose. Subconsciously of course. I pressed harder, kneading catlike into a stiff spot on his right shoulder—his sword arm.
“Christ, that feels good,” he muffled sideways into the pillow.
Eyes closed, his dark lashes contrasted against the white pillowcase. His expression was relaxed. His body was at rest beneath me. I’d rarely seen this side of Jude. I smiled, knowing I was one of the few people who could ever see him with his guard down.
I massaged down the outside of his spine, marveling at the intricate details of his full-back tattoo. The fine lines of St. Michael’s face, of the angel’s feathered wings, of his flexed arm driving a sharpened spear into the devil, all of it must’ve taken hours upon hours to create.
“When did you get this?” I finally asked, massaging back up to his shoulders.
At first, I thought he’d dropped off into sleep. After a few minutes, he said, “About twenty years ago or so.”
I scoffed, realizing it was about the time I’d been born. Every so often, I had to remind myself that Jude wasn’t a mere thirty-something as he appeared to be.
“It must have taken a long time.”
He flexed his back muscles unconsciously, pushing his arms farther under the pillow beneath his head, his biceps curling. “About a year.”
“A year? Wow.”
“Oh…God yes. Right there.” I kneaded my hands in that one spot beneath his shoulder blade. He exhaled on a moan before picking up the conversation again. “I’d found the best artist in New Orleans for the job. But he couldn’t do it all at one time. My skin had to heal between sessions so we had to spread it out over a few months.”
I flattened my hand across the archangel’s wings, more lifelike than any tattoo I’d seen. “Did it hurt?”
His only answer was a shrug. For several minutes, we said nothing as I pressed the balls of my palms up and down his back, loosening the strain. I glided my hands over his broad back, enjoying the feel of him under my fingertips, losing my train of thought in the ink tapestry.
“I liked it,” he said.
I frowned. “Liked what?”
“The hurt,” he admitted, low and gruff. “That’s why I did the second tattoo.”
My heart hammered faster. My fingers slowed, then stopped, resting under his shoulder blades.
“I would’ve kept going and covered my whole damn body, but…” He shrugged, not finishing the thought. “I realized then why I never minded getting cut or injured in a fight with a demon. It dawned on me that I’d often gone hunting just for the fight alone. For the pain. I’d needed some kind of release.”
One of my teammates on the soccer team in high school used to cut herself on her upper thigh, hiding her guilty vice beneath long shorts when we played. When I’d caught her dressing for a game one time, I’d asked her why she did it. Her simple reply was, “It relieves me. Makes the rest of the world go away.” I didn’t understand, unable to comprehend how cutting yourself relieved pain or stress or whatever it was she needed relief from.
But I knew Jude’s past. Some of it. I knew the pain of losing his parents had stayed with him. I knew that he’d been casting out demons for centuries, and every time he did, some of their evil clung to his spirit. I understood how the physical pain might have been a balm to ease the internal memories he was unable to wipe away.
“Why did you stop?” I asked. Not that I wanted him covering his entire body in ink, but curiosity made me wonder.
“Two reasons.” He shifted his body onto his forearms. I lifted onto my knees while he turned beneath me to face up. “For one, I didn’t want to give in to weakness. I didn’t want to lessen the painful memories of my past, of the things I’ve done.”
“Jude, you can’t have done anything that—”
“I have.” His expression was unreadable, his chest heaving faster as if he were nervous to broach this topic. “I’ve done worse than you can imagine.”
I didn’t pry. Still on my knees above him, refusing to believe he’d done anything worth being damned to hunt demons for two millenniums, I asked, “And the second reason?”
His mouth twitched up on one side the way I liked. “Because I didn’t want to look like Dommiel.”
I laughed as he pulled me down. Snuggling into the crook of his arm, my head on his chest, I draped an arm across his waist, relishing the feel of him so close to me, on multiple levels. The bond weaving from his heart to mine tightened even more. “I’m going to miss you in New York.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll miss you too. But I won’t be too far. It’s best the way we’ve planned it.”
“I know.” Still, I pouted. I hated our plan, though I knew it was the only way to lure Bamal’s minions close enough to catch one of them.
“Genevieve?”
I’d started to drift off in the warmth of his arms. “Hm?”
“I don’t need the pain to relieve me anymore.”
“Why not?”
Pause.
“Because I’ve got you.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Hurry up, Gen!”
A mountain of luggage dangled off Mindy’s tiny body, yet she still moved faster than me. She looked like a Vera Bradley nightmare with skinny, tan legs. I knew why I was stalling and dragging ass getting out of the cab. I dreaded the upcoming scene in the airport terminal. The one plotted and planned and deemed vital before I crossed into Prince Bamal’s realm.
“Is this all, miss?” asked the porter, sweat beading along his brow despite the cooler temperatures.
Mindy pointed to the open trunk. “Just two more bags. Right over there.”
He lugged her Petal Paisley Pink duffle and cargo bag onto the rolling cart, while she hefted the matching tote onto her shoulder.
He turned to me. “And you, ma’am?”
“Just the one. Thanks.”
Much less in-style, or matching, I traveled with a small, nondescript rolling suitcase and my brown leather travel bag. My vest-o-daggers was strapped underneath my brown leather jacket. Jude had promised my cast of illusion would shield them, despite the X-ray screens at the gate. Still, the thought of setting off alarms and being carted off by beefy policemen had me jittery. But not nearly as much as the scene awaiting me past the security gate.
“Come on.” Mindy blew blonde bangs out of her eyes in frustration. “You act like you don’t even want to go on this trip. We’ve only been dreaming about it since sixth grade.”
“I’m excited,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “I’m totally excited.”
“Yeah. Whatever. Move it, Drake.”
Mindy’s mother had traveled up a week earlier with her boyfriend, Bill Bridges, a wealthy business tycoon who seemed eager to woo her with extravagant gifts. Like an all-expenses paid trip for her, her daughter and her daughter’s best friend to New York. He had a long business trip scheduled in the city, which had launched this whole adventure.
After checking in our luggage and getting our boarding passes, Mindy and I headed through the security gate. I tried not to fidget, focusing on my VS, repeating the cast of illusion in my head. The TSA guard didn’t blink or move an inch as I passed through, my daggers going undetected. I’d thought of asking Jude the day before how the illusion could hide metal from a detector but knew better. He’d give me a cryptic answer which wasn’t really an answer.
Finding our ga
te, I settled my bag along the row of seats with my back to the window. The setting sun had just fallen behind a line of trees in the distance.
The prickly sensation of demons among us kept registering on my VS then vanishing, meaning they were casting illusion to hide themselves among the crowd. I focused, channeling my own power to seek them out, coming up with nothing. Whatever demons were here, they kept to the fringe, out of reach for me to find them.
Mindy plopped her bag next to mine. “You want a coffee or something? I’m going to pop over to that Starbucks.”
“No. I’m good.”
Mindy stared at me for a moment. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Why?”
“You’re lying to me, Genevieve Drake, but I know better than to push. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
She sauntered off to Starbucks, swinging her matching Petal Paisley Pink wristlet. Mindy knew me too well. Yes. Something was bothering me. The anticipation had sweat dampening my neck, my top sticking to my back.
There was also the fact that Mindy and I were drifting apart. Our mutual nights away with boyfriends—her and Dave snuggling on the sofa with popcorn while Jude and I incinerated demons in the night—had put physical distance between us. I was also pulling away emotionally. My fear of an unknown future where she was no longer a part of my life scared the shit out of me. Considering I’d learned that I was ageless like other Flamma, the time would eventually come when I’d have to say good-bye for good.
No one knew if this damn war between the heavenly and demonic hosts would happen next month, next year, or in the next hundred years. George and Jude kept saying soon, but no one could define that adequately for me. Soon is a relative term when you’ve been alive for two thousand years. All I knew was that my life as a college co-ed was drawing to a close, and I didn’t see how Mindy would fit in it. No matter what happened, I’d made Jude, George and Kat swear they’d protect my family and friends from any and all harm from the demons. That was the only stipulation I’d had for this trip and to set this trap for Bamal—to protect Mindy at all costs. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to her because of me.
As I scanned the airport terminal, no one appeared suspicious. A mother played horsey, bouncing her curly headed toddler on one knee. A shirt-and-tie businessman scrolled down his iPad with his index finger, smiling at something he read. A teen couple with matching purple hair and nose piercings huddled close, whispering to each other. No red-eyed demon gazed at me from behind a bookrack or vendor. The demons lurking here were trained to hide well. High demons. They’d need to sift in and out to avoid my detection this well.
Mindy returned with a foam-topped mocha Frappuccino. Her phone bleeped with a text message. She giggled as she read it, puffing out a swoony sigh.
I angled closer. “Let me guess. Dave?”
I watched her key in a row of hearts and press Send. “Yep. We said good-bye last night, but he wanted to be sure I knew he loved me before we flew out.”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
She took a long sip from her straw, narrowing her eyes. “Look, Miss Snark. You don’t have to be all—” She paused, mouth agape, suddenly getting that ah-ha look on her face. “Ohhh. I know what’s bothering you. Trouble in paradise with Mr. Hotness, isn’t there?”
I looked away across the terminal, scanning for the source of a familiar signature that hit me with the sting of a whiplash across my skin.
“Don’t ignore me, Gen. That’s what it is, isn’t it?”
The flight attendant’s robotic voice came over the intercom, while I continued to scan, searching for the blond-haired high demon I met in the basement of the House of Hades. “We are now boarding flight 318 to Newark. Would all passengers requiring assistance and first-class passengers please step up to the gate.”
“That’s us.” Mindy swilled down her frozen coffee, squeezing her eyes tight. “Ow. Brain freeze.” She tossed the half-empty cup in the trash and picked up her bag. “Come on. We can talk on the plane.”
I swept the area for someone else entirely, ignoring the familiar demon signature lurking close by. I hooked my leather bag over one shoulder.
And there he was. My man, whose blazing aura opened the crowd, leaving dumbfounded men and drooling women in his wake. Stalking across the terminal in full black with long strides and fire in his eyes. His heavy cast of illusion kept his weapons hidden from sight. I waited, heart thudding faster.
“Oh crap, Gen. Jude looks pissed. Did he know you were leaving town?”
I couldn’t answer, watching the man of my dreams draw closer with a deep scowl marring his typically controlled expression. Chin up and gut in a knot, I waited till he stood directly in front of me.
“I thought we’d settled this, Genevieve,” he said—steady, determined, strong. “Why are you here?”
Moving into his space, I raised my voice rather than lowered it. “Yes. You thought we’d settled this, but you were wrong.” I swallowed the swelling lump to spill my speech. “You don’t get to make all my decisions for me, Jude. First you follow me like a jailer. Now you’re never around, running off doing whatever it is you do, and I’m sick of it. I’m not your slave to do whatever it is you want when you want it.” Still unmoving, dark gaze fixed, he said not a word. “So stop following me. As of this moment, you have no right to. This is over. We’re over.”
I pushed past him, moving quickly toward the gate. A tear slipped. I brushed it roughly away with the back of my hand. I passed my boarding pass to the attendant, glancing over her shoulder.
The source of the biting wind leaned against a column. In black jeans and white starched shirt, Razor smiled at me. Just before I stepped through the gate, he blew me a kiss.
Mindy sidled close, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Why didn’t you tell me, Gen?” She spoke soft words about everything being okay. I nodded, blindly following her into first class, where I’d never sat before in my whole life. I shoved my carry-on in the overhead compartment with more force than necessary. Once in our seats, she squeezed my hand. “You’ll see. We’ll have an amazing time together and come back and everything will be fine.”
I forced a smile to reassure her. My phone vibrated in my pocket. While she tucked her bag away, I checked the text.
Jude: Well done, my heart. If I hadn’t planned this with you, I’d have thought you were speaking the truth.
Yes. It was all an act, but my body reacted as if it were real. The reason being that I had spoken the truth. Barring the fact that I had no intention of breaking up with him, I hadn’t lied. My heart ached because I did feel neglected in some way. I wanted more than what we had, and I had no idea how to ask for it without sounding like a selfish child. Finding the prophecy was the first priority. The fate of the world was at stake, but all I could moan and groan about were my feelings of unrequited love. And that was just it. Jude returned my love, but not in full, not wholly and completely the way my heart yearned and burned for him. I didn’t want a kiss or a snuggle here and there in between our demon hunting sessions or at the end of another long day apart. I wanted all of him, in every way.
My phone buzzed with a new text.
Jude: Remember, stay in the crowds. They can’t sift in large crowds of humans. All will be well.
Me: Ok. See you in NY.
Jude: I’ll be there.
I tucked my phone away and buckled my belt, squeezing my eyes shut. The pain of merely acting like I broke it off with Jude lacerated my heart. I couldn’t imagine the excruciating pain should we ever truly separate.
I waited for liftoff, twirling the moon opal that Jude had given me in my hand, hoping our performance had done the trick. Razor had been there, watching the whole scene. Hopefully, that was enough. They’d know I was on my own in New York now. Or at least without Jude, the scariest damn demon hunter alive. I remember one time when we’d first met, I thought Jude had treated me like bait, dangling me over a shark-infested po
ol when he brought me to Dommiel’s lair for the first time. Now I felt as if I were swimming with them, my blood scenting the waters, drawing them closer. But this was the only way if we were ever going to catch them and determine why they were so desperate to kidnap me. Alive, not dead, this time. We all knew it had something to do with the prophecy, the lost part we couldn’t seem to get our hands on. For now.
The hollow hum of the plane soaring at high altitude soothed the other first-class passengers to sleep. Not me. I’d moved across the aisle from Mindy, where two empty seats made it easy for me to read my book without disturbing her. With my mind so focused on my acting debut in the airport, I’d forgotten to pack or buy a thing to read. The sweet, white-haired lady in row B heard me complaining to Mindy and offered me a paperback of The Captain’s Captive.
I laughed, recognizing the cover from a book Kat read while waiting for me to get out of class once. Knowing I’d never sleep with my mind racing, I settled in to read the romance at sea, regardless of its ridiculous, hair-in-the-wind, heaving-cleavage, bulging-bare-chested cover.
I’d been reading for an hour, the only one awake under the dim overhead light. I was at the point where Captain Sparr pinned Violet against the wall of his ship’s cabin, promising her pleasure with silver-tongued words if only she gave in to her desires. Violet protested—but not very much—her resistance growing weak under his onslaught of kisses. I was so engrossed, I didn’t notice the presence beside me. Not until an intoxicating whiff of wintry woods caressed my senses.
I jumped, finding a smiling Thomas seated next to me, peering over my shoulder.
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