“Jude,” I begged. I heard it in the way I cried his name, the desperate plea of a woman completely lost, drowning in unfulfilled desire.
He skimmed his lips down the slope of my neck to my shoulder, his hand mounding my breast harder. I arched my neck to give him better access, breath already ragged, luxuriating in the mind-numbing sensation of his hands and mouth on me. I flipped to my back and laced my hands into his hair, pulling his mouth down to mine.
“Yes,” I moaned between short breaths.
The reins he’d held to leash our passion slipped through his fingers when I slid my tongue into his mouth. He pulled me flush underneath him and pressed his full weight on top of me—a glorious, hot cage. I opened my legs, cradling him close. He pushed with pelvis and chest, pinning my body beneath him. Why it felt so good to be walled in and rendered immobile by his solid weight, I have no idea. Propped on his forearms, he trapped me, eyes blazing as his mouth pried mine wider, swallowing my sounds of pleasure. His tongue swept in. Determined. Possessive. Urgent. Teeth grazed my lower lip. He bit down, gently, retracing the mark with his tongue. A breathy gasp.
“Jude.” His name escaped my lips, desperate and wanting. I was well beyond coherent thought, my body yearning, demanding more. His mouth trailed a hot line down the column of my throat. “Please.” I rolled my hips, the perfect hard friction rubbing between my legs, driving me insane with need. My brain fogged. “Jude… I want…”
I couldn’t think past the haze of desire. I thrust my fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth back to mine, his probing tongue making my body coil tighter and want more. I moaned, well aware how wanton I sounded and not giving a damn.
“I need…”
I didn’t even know what I was saying. He rose up, bracing himself on his forearms, eyes boring into mine with fiery intent. My hands glided over his bare chest, skimming the planes of his ridged abdomen. Everything was tight and hard and so ungodly wonderful. One of my hands drifted lower to the frighteningly large bulge pressing against my thigh. Jude hissed in a breath between clenched teeth, grabbing my wrist and pinning it above my head.
“Jude, please,” I whispered against his mouth, as he brushed my lips with slow, teasing sweeps. “I… I—”
He kissed me hard, smothering whatever the hell I was going to say, giving me his full weight for a brief, glorious moment, then jerked off me. “Fuck!” He fell to his back and threw an arm across his eyes, sucking in air like a drowning man come to shore. “We can’t,” he growled, his clenched jaw a square of granite.
Ashamed of the tears pooling in my eyes, I had no idea how badly I wanted him, needed him. Not just his body. I needed the intimacy, to know that he was mine and I was his. The world was going to shit, demons running amok, a great war of heavenly and demonic hosts on the horizon, and all I could do was mourn the fact I couldn’t have sex with the one I loved. The one who loved me. But it was more than that. The connection we shared kept pulling, tugging, tightening. Resisting the urge to connect on the most intimate level felt like breaking in two.
“I lied to you,” he said, voice throaty and gruff.
“What?” I asked, winded and confused and angry and still turned on. “What do you mean?”
He shifted on his side. “Remember that night I told you I’d gladly damn us both to hell for a taste of you? Well, I lied.” He blew out a heavy breath, gaining control again. “My soul is already damned, but I refuse to drag you down with me. I don’t want to take the chance that this”—he waved a hand between us—“might make you an easy target for another demon prince. Danté may be out of the picture, but there are six more out there.”
“But I’m already tainted. That guy at the ball. Remember?” I didn’t care that I sounded like a petulant child who’d lost its new toy. Reason had fled the equation the moment he’d pressed his body to mine and I’d gotten a hint of what it would be like.
“The sin you committed against him hasn’t tainted you. For whatever reason. Probably because the asshole deserved to die. His soul was already black as hell. You did the world a favor.” The swirling darkness in his eyes reminded me he knew all about sins latching on to the soul, even ones that weren’t your own. He cupped my cheek. “I won’t do it, Genevieve. I won’t chance condemning you because of my”—his cool, even tone deepened to hot and fierce—“because of my bone-crushing need to drive inside you and hear you scream my name.”
If I wasn’t already lying down, my knees would’ve given out and dropped me to the floor with that admission. Especially accompanying his burning gaze telling me he might just say
fuck it
and take me anyway. He was a man riding a razor’s edge. And I’d done this to him. I turned my face into his palm and pressed a tender kiss there.
A moment later, he hopped off the bed and headed into the bathroom.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“To take a shower.” Door slam. “A cold one!”
Oh…right.
“You have plumbing here?”
No answer. Only the sound of a faucet turning on. So this rustic cottage on the Isle of Arran had a few modern amenities. I snuggled back into the covers, cursing the world—demons and angels alike. I sat up and punched my pillow, suddenly not as comfortable as I was a while ago. But it wasn’t the pillow, and I knew it. My discomfort came from sexual frustration, nothing else.
As the pipes squeaked on, I listened to the water in the shower and tried my damnedest not to imagine Jude’s naked body under running water. Okay, so I didn’t try that hard at all.
After inhaling a deep breath, I blew it out, staring through the window, the stars bright in the midnight sky, even from here. The earthy smell of peat burning and the warmth of the fire finally soothed me into a calmer state. I wished we could hide away and stay here forever, pretending the ills of the world outside didn’t even exist.
But, of course, I knew we couldn’t. The world would come knocking as soon as my eyes opened in the morning.
Chapter Eleven
We waited in silence, watching early bird tourists wander the French Quarter. From this corner table in the back of Café Du Monde, Jude had a good view of the crowds. I sipped my café au lait. He brooded, shoulders back, hands clasped in his lap, staring outward, away from me.
He had barely spoken three words to me all morning. He hadn’t broached the topic of last night, and I knew why. Neither of us knew how long we’d have to wait till we could finally sate this growing hunger.
“Jude. Last night was—”
He cut me off with a dark glance and a sharp tone. “A mistake. I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”
It wasn’t nearly far enough, in my opinion. Shame flushed my cheeks with heat. I’d writhed underneath him like a whore, begging for him. I’d pushed him to the edge, not caring what consequences might await me after. “Oh.” I turned away, biting the inside of my cheek. Acid churned in my stomach. His gaze bore into me from the side, but I refused to let him see the hurt in my eyes.
“Genevieve.” I ignored him. “Look at me.”
He curled his hand around mine in my lap. I tried to yank away, but he held tight. When I snapped my head in his direction, anger rather than shame gripped me hard. He didn’t respond in kind. Rather, his expression softened, brow pinching with regret.
“It was my fault,” he said, gently.
“How can we possibly continue to live like this? I can’t even be around you without wanting—” I clamped my jaw shut. Frustration threatened to make me scream.
“I know. Last night was…difficult. You were…” He stopped, reading my expression.
“What? Your slutty, desperate girlfriend begging for it, and you felt sorry for me?” My voice quivered with rage and humiliation.
“No.” Steady. Soft. “You were overwhelmingly beautiful, and I nearly lost my mind, I was so turned on.” My heart tripped several beats. He brushed the back of his knuckles down my cheek. I closed my eyes, willing the combination of disappointment, sorrow and fury not to push me over the edge. “I want to fulfill you in every way. And I will. But we can’t take any chances. Not yet.”
“So we can’t even touch each other. Great.” My sardonic tone cut the air.
“Not yet,
mon coeur
.” He cupped my cheek and angled me toward him. I sensed his lips before they brushed mine, sweeping a gentle kiss, warm and sensual. He kissed a line up my cheek to my ear. “If you only knew how much I did hold back.” He kissed the hollow below my ear. “The pain for me was crippling.” I shivered, his touch burning sweetly as his aura of flame licked around us both. He swept his lips along my cheek, finally forcing me to look at him. “One of these days, there will be no barriers between us.” His hand slipped to the nape of my neck. “And I’ll never leave you unsatisfied.”
He slanted his mouth over mine, taking me with ravenous speed and unbridled passion—a burning promise of what was to come.
Someone cleared his throat. “You do realize you’re in a public place, don’t you?”
I jumped and pulled away George stood above us. Jude didn’t even acknowledge him. For a long moment, his fiery gaze lingered only on me. Any shame I felt earlier had evaporated with his heated words and lingering promise.
George took a seat. “Oh, don’t mind me. You two just carry on if you must.” He waved over the nearest waitress. “Coffee, black, please.”
Jude resumed his watching of the crowds. The waitress returned with George’s coffee just as Kat approached in jeans and a dark pink sweater, her hair twisted in a bun on top of her head. Her eyes widened when she saw who sat at our table. She clearly hadn’t known George would be here.
“Good morning,” she said, taking the only available seat between George and Jude.
“Morning, Katherine,” said George, raising his mug to her. “Don’t you look lovely.” He was teasing her, but the sentiment was genuine. Pulse racing, my mind flashed to George on the pier two centuries earlier, heart breaking into a thousand pieces. For her. For Kat.
Kat frowned. “Are you all right, Gen? You look ill.”
I shook it off and forced a smile. “Fine.” I cleared my throat. “Just tired.”
George arched a brow at Jude, who finally decided to join the conversation.
Jude cleared his throat. “Genevieve discovered a new Vessel power last night, Kat.”
“Terrific. Which is?”
“She can call humans away from fused demons and kill the infestation.”
“The death cast.” She scooted closer, leaning her elbows on the table. “But only angels have that power.”
“Not anymore, it seems,” said George, sipping his coffee.
“Wow.” Kat grinned. “Awesome.” She winked at me.
I squirmed uncomfortably. “I didn’t know what I was doing. It just sort of…happened.”
“Your VS knows,” said Jude.
I smiled at his using the initials.
He smiled back. “Bellock was also on the prowl.”
“That asshole?” asked Kat, grimacing. “What was he doing there?”
“Unsure,” said Jude. “But, too many demons showed up for it to be an accident. They knew we’d be there.”
“Bleed,” said Kat. “He must’ve tipped off another demon that we’d been snooping around and where we might likely be headed.”
George frowned. “What are you doing associating with scum of his kind?” I didn’t miss the note of censure in his voice.
Kat rolled her eyes. “We’d gotten the tip from Dommiel. He’s in our back pocket for now.”
George had abandoned his coffee, arms crossed on the table as he leaned slightly toward Kat. “No demon is ever ‘in the pocket’ of a hunter. Be careful, Katherine.” His tone held more anger than it should.
I glanced at Jude, who gave me a quick shake of the head. “True. Dommiel may not be loyal, but we’re holding him with enough intimidation that he wouldn’t send us into a trap willingly. It serves him more if I keep other high demons out of his territory in New Orleans. If I disappear, so does his dominion here.”
I remembered the way Bleed’s band members, other lower demons, didn’t seem in the least threatened by our presence. “Perhaps Bleed still works for Damas. And he tipped him off.”
George’s pensive expression shifted away from Kat, considering. “That lovely piece of work I had the fortune to meet last night did have the markings of Damas.” The menace he used when saying the demon prince’s name made me shiver. We all knew Damas was the one who kept Kat captive long ago.
“What do you mean?” asked Kat, her eyes on George. “Demon spawn?”
“Yes. A titan, dragon spawn,” he clarified. “Not certain whose child it was, but its power echoed the creatures of Damas I’ve fought before.” George’s gaze fell on Kat again. I knew in that moment he’d probably fought legions of Damas’s spawn in order to save Kat. She’d never told me who saved her from Damas, but sitting here, feeling the palpable tension stretching between them, I knew it was him.
Kat cleared her throat. “So you killed the creature last night.”
He shook his head, nodding to me. “When Genevieve started the death cast, every dark Flamma in the vicinity disappeared.”
“Including Bellock,” added Jude.
I scoffed. “You’re not saying that angel hunter was afraid of me.”
“Doubtful, but he’s cunning. I think your power was as much of a surprise to him as it was to the other creatures. They’ll regroup and use another strategy before they attack you again.”
A couple bumped past us. The crowds thickened, tables filling up. I watched a vendor across the street attaching Christmas lights to his wooden display of artwork. My stomach clenched, knowing it was time to drop the bomb I’d been holding for some time.
“Rather than wait for them to attack again or set another trap, why don’t we go on the offensive?” All eyes swiveled to me.
“What do you have in mind?” asked Kat.
“Okay.” I heaved in a deep breath. “Mindy and I have a trip planned to New York next week—”
“No.” The finality in Jude’s tone made me tremble.
“Jude, listen. If I’m in New York, I’ll constantly be in crowds. And according to the rules, they can’t sift in crowds. Right?”
“This is true,” said George. “But that’s only when you’re in the safety of the public.”
“No,” said Jude again, his eyes darkening to a storm.
“Gah,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Stop being so bullheaded and
listen
.”
His jaw clenched tight. He didn’t give me his one-word command again, so I took that as a positive sign to continue.
“Even when we’re not in crowds, you, Kat, Dorian and George could be around to guard the hotel and whatever. But eventually they’ll make the attack, which is what we want.”
“And why would we want that?” asked Kat.
“Think of how we surprised Gorham in his place, Kat. He didn’t expect it. We had the upper hand. We won that battle and set those girls free.”
“However”—added Jude in a growl—“you did get sifted away by Gorham, as I recall.”
“If we’re ready for them, we might finally find out what Bamal is up to and what he knows of the prophecy. We need to capture Gorham or Razor or one of Bamal’s big guys. Those three you caught at the Crescent City Masquerade knew only that they were to capture me, not kill me. They had no other intel that was useful, because they weren’t in Bamal’s privileged circle.”
“But Gorham is,” said Kat.
“Yes!” Finally, someone was getting it. “And if I’m walking around New York City, do you honestly believe they won’t try to kidnap me again? They will.”
“And we’ll be ready for them,” said George, smiling. “I do love a woman with a devious mind.”
Jude had fallen into silence. I took one of his callused hands in both of mine. “With you there guarding me, all will be well.”
Silence. We waited as Jude seemed to mull everything over. Funny that he was calling the shots on this, not George.
“Only one problem with this plan of yours,” he finally said.
“What?”
“Gorham will never get too close if he knows I’m waiting for him. Every Flamma alive now knows I protect you.” My heart sank, then he glanced at George and Kat. “But I may have a plan to fix that problem.”
I grinned. “So we’re going?”
“Yes. Only if you do exactly as you’re told, Genevieve, and don’t take unnecessary risks.”
“I’ll be a good girl.” I crisscrossed the left side of my chest with one finger. “Cross my heart.”
Jude raised a brow, mouth quirking on one side. “We’ll see about that.”