His smile was nothing sweet.
“Let me clarify.” He slid his tongue across my bottom lip, sweeping the tip inside to touch my own before pulling out. “I don’t mind waiting to come inside you, my heart, because it is an inevitability. Like the moon rising and the sun setting, it will happen.” I swallowed hard, mouth gone cotton dry. He tightened his hold on my wrists. “But there is only so much a man can take.”
He took me in a breath-stealing kiss. I knew now that he pinned my arms for his own sake, to keep his passion in check. Our pent-up desire for each other pushed to bursting every single day. If I had an inkling of doubt, he showed me. When he lowered his body, a rock-hard ridge pressed against my thigh.
A soft moan escaped my lips as I opened wider for him. His hands clenched tight around my wrists. He trailed a hot, wet line down the column of my throat. I strained against his body, my need for him a painful thing.
“Jude,” I whispered in a desperate plea. “When? How long must we wait?”
“Until I know you’re safe.” He nuzzled a kiss below my ear.
Untainted hands, mind and body.
That was the decree for a Vessel to remain free of a high demon’s possession. I’d killed a man at the Crescent City Masquerade Ball last month when he tried to violate Mindy. That had bought me a ticket straight to Danté’s lair in hell. Without Jude, I’d still be there, a prisoner and sex slave of Danté for all eternity. We still didn’t know how much my mistake made me susceptible to any other demon wanting to possess me. The fear of what might have been and what could still possibly be snapped me out of my passion-induced haze.
Jude seemed to have the same train of thought, dimming but certainly not quenching the fire between us. He let go of my wrists and lifted onto his forearms. The outline of his face hovering over me in the dark was a moment I didn’t want to ever end. But it always did.
“Good night,
mon coeur
. I’ll be back soon.”
My throat tightened with restrained emotion. “Good night.”
He sifted away to wherever he went at night, leaving me alone but well-protected in his warded fortress. It wasn’t the first time he left me wanting. And surely not the last.
Chapter Five
Kat and I strolled through the French Quarter as dusk settled over New Orleans. A haze of gold faded as shadows swallowed the cobblestone and poorly paved streets. Only a few tourists out on a Tuesday night, but we knew the one we wanted would be in his domain.
Kat’s sleek ponytail swung with each long stride. She’d decided on leather pants and a tight top held together by silver safety pins. With her black trench, pale skin and red lipstick, she’d fit right into Goth central, which was exactly where we were headed.
She glanced my way, eyeing my attire. With my dark-blue skinny jeans, a hunter-green top that cinched at the hips, and knee-high brown boots with daggers strapped inside, we didn’t quite match. Normally, I loved decking out in demon-hunting garb, but I was feeling out of sorts.
My mind wandered back to the conversation I’d had with Jude this morning before Kat showed up. After he’d had a night to calm down about our traipsing off to New York for demon hunting, we had a nice, long conversation about the incident. Well, long—yes; nice—not really.
“He’s certainly crossed the line this time. Creating spawn to enslave innocent girls.” Jude paused, having sharpened my dagger against a whetstone in the weapons room of his house. “It’s another sign.”
“Another sign of what?” I sheathed my weapon.
“I think Kat’s right. The aggression by the demons, their constant movements, visitations to different realms. The war is approaching.”
The war—the one between heaven and hell. The idea was too surreal to fathom.
“Not only that. I’ve heard rumors, whispers about an army of demon spawn.”
“A demon army. Where?”
“As of now, it’s being amassed in hell or separately in their own domains. I don’t know yet, but I will soon enough.”
Musing in silence, I thought of my guardian angel and whether I should confess our meeting to Jude yet. I tried to find an opening, a way to gently bring up the subject.
“What are the angels doing while we’re kicking demon ass down here anyway?”
“Right now, I imagine they’re watching, preparing.” Some were definitely watching. Maybe my guardian’s interference was another sign. They’re taking an active role in our world, as if they know time is of the essence. “When this war starts, you’ll see more angels and demons than you ever cared to. Humans will become nothing more than collateral damage.” Bitterness laced every word.
“I don’t understand. If humans are so insignificant, then why are you here protecting them? Why do the angels bother sending those like you and George to defend them?”
“Humans are
not
insignificant. They are either agents of good or evil, with their own parts to play in this godforsaken war.”
Godforsaken? Quite an adjective, considering.
He paused, biting his lower lip. I’d never seen him fidget in any way. This was new. He whispered his next words, meant more for himself than me. “What I really need is the second half of that prophecy.”
“Kat showed me the
New York Times
yesterday morning. There was a break-in at the Vatican. She thinks a high demon was after the part of the prophecy housed there.”
“Yes. I know. I agree.”
Before I could tell him about my own run-in with an angel, Kat had sifted in and our day had begun.
“Earth to Genevieve.” Kat snapped her fingers in front of me as we crossed the street, bypassing a bachelorette party stumbling in a flurry of pink boas toward Bourbon Street.
“Sorry. In my own world for a second.”
“I noticed.”
Refocusing, I questioned Kat about the New York demons.
“Okay. Tell me more about that blond-haired demon that seemed to be protecting Gorham back in his club. The uppity one. Seemed like Gorham’s right-hand man.”
She nodded, stepping off the curb toward the opposite side. “That would be Razor.”
“Razor. Doesn’t sound like a demon name.”
“It isn’t. His real name is Razoriel, but he goes by the nickname. He’d lay down his life for Gorham. They’ve been a dirty duo in the human world for centuries, always teetering on the line for expulsion.”
We veered around a hot-dog vendor. The paunchy owner called, “Lucky dog, ladies?”
“Not tonight. Sorry,” said Kat, moving on by.
My stomach rumbled at the smell of the steamy hot dogs. I caught up next to Kat. “Are those girls okay now?” I’d been wondering ever since we left that horrible club.
“Yeah. I made sure they were put in a safe place. I was able to remove the spawn and destroy it.”
“The same way you do when you cast out demons?”
“It’s a little different, because you’re not just casting out. It’s a spell of destruction. I’ll teach you soon.” She slowed her gait, looking ahead. “For now, let’s focus on the task at hand.”
We stopped underneath the sign reading “The Dungeon” in red letters on a battle-ax two blocks down from Bourbon Street. Just like the first time I’d stood in this very spot, a wave of evil wafted from the entrance. I knew now what this tainted aura meant—demons. Lots of them.
“Ready?” Kat beamed as if we were heading off for a fun night on the town. Hell, I guess this
was
her idea of a fun night on the town.
“Yep. Let’s go see how our old friend Dommiel is faring.”
The red-eyed demon at the entrance glared at us, knowing us for what we were. “What business do you have here?”
Last time, no one stopped Jude and me from marching straight into Dommiel’s lair. Of course, that was before Jude had chopped off Dommiel’s arm and had nearly expelled him back to hell for good.
“Business with Dommiel,” snapped Kat. “Let us pass.”
The hulking bouncer considered for a few seconds, finally deciding we were no threat. Fool.
Kat led us down the dark, narrow hallway into an open courtyard.
“We don’t go past here,” she whispered.
“I know. Jude and I went over it.”
Jude had ordered us not to go beyond this point for our “appointment”. I was sure he would refuse to even let me out of the house without his protection, but he had something else to do. He hadn’t offered to tell me his whereabouts for the evening. We needed to have a discussion sooner or later about this whole prophecy-hunting business and his constant disappearing act.
An albino with pale eyes, wearing blood-colored pants and a sleeveless shirt, glared at us from the entrance leading into the main part of the club. He had what looked like a bone pierced through his nose. Despite his Goth-gone-awry demonic appearance, he was merely human. Probably one of Dommiel’s many lackeys—human and demon—skulking about and doing his dirty work.
I crossed my arms. “We need to see your master, Dommiel.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Tell him Genevieve would like to make amends.”
Kat frowned at me. I pretended not to notice. The albino disappeared into the gloom. Several other pale faces wandered around inside, glaring at the two intruders in the empty courtyard. Three minutes later, Dommiel stood in the archway. Black pants, impeccably starched shirt with a high-collar, black dinner jacket, his dress juxtaposed with the fierceness of his shaved-bald head and the dozen piercings in his face—lip, nose, cheek, eyebrows. He was like a combination of Vin Diesel and Vincent Price who’d rammed his face into a pin cushion. The final touch was the shining hook jutting from the sleeve of his jacket—a remnant from Jude.
I smiled. “New haircut?”
His eyes darted from Kat to me, a frown puckering his pierced brows.
“What do you want, Vessel?”
I liked that he addressed me first. This meant he saw me as the lead threat of our duo, a first for me in my outings with Kat. Though it probably had more to do with the fact that he knew Jude was my protector and he’d lost his arm because of me.
“As I said, I want to make amends.” I nodded at the hook dangling from the cuff of his expensive dinner jacket.
“Come inside.”
“No,” said Kat. “We’ll talk out here.”
The Dommiel I’d first met was all swagger and braggart. No longer was he that demon. His countenance was fixed in a grave expression—brooding and watchful.
“Come.” He beckoned with a flick of his good hand. “No harm will come to you in my domain as long as you inflict none.”
I nodded in agreement. His gaze settled on Kat, waiting. She rolled her eyes and put up her hands. “Okay. Agreed.”
“Follow me.”
With a swish of his coattails, he led us inside. Instead of heading upstairs where his throne sat below a dragon’s head, he guided us to a nondescript door down a short hallway. This place was a maze. Two guards stood outside—both demons, but of his ilk, not lower demons. Their eyes followed us.
“No worries, gentlemen,” said Dommiel. “This is some sort of peace treaty. Enter only if I summon you.”
The interior of the room was plain—gray walls, no pictures, wooden desk, brown leather wingback and matching sofa. He gestured for us to sit as I observed. The room was almost homey. He took a seat in the wingback behind the desk.
“What’s wrong, dear Vessel? Not what you expected?”
“A little disappointing compared to the rest of the place. Kind of…ordinary.”
He sneered. “Even a demon needs a change of scenery. So what is this about, this making amends? Can you give me back my arm?”
He twirled his silver hook in the air with a smirk.
“No.” I cleared my throat. “I’m afraid not. We need some information.”
“Of course you do. Why else would you come slumming in my club?”
“We need information about your former, or possibly current, employer, Bamal.”
His gaze settled on me, pensive. “And what makes you think I would betray my former or current employer?”
I didn’t miss that he refused to clarify whether or not he was still working for him. He lost his arm because he was reporting my movements back to Bamal. Jude didn’t take it very kindly when he caught Dommiel skulking about in his raven form.
I sat up straighter on the sofa, uncrossing my legs. “You needn’t feel that you’re betraying him. Look at it as considering your own interests first.”
He leaned back in his leather wingback, pondering, knocking his hook on the wooden desk. Two quick raps, pause, one. Two raps, pause, one. He stopped suddenly, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”
Kat sat up to pipe in, but I sliced my hand in the air, silencing her. “We just need a few questions answered about the prophecy. Nothing all that grand.”
“And what do I get in exchange?”
“In exchange, Jude will ensure that no high demon will relocate in your territory while you abide by the rules.”
He blew out a breath. “Why do you think I need Jude’s protection? The fucking Dominus Daemonum who gave me
this
.” He jutted his hook in the air.
“You will, Dommiel. Because the war is coming. You know as well as we do that allegiances are switching, lower and high demons are on the move. You may not be viewed as valuable in the near future. Someone may want to oust you from your lair and put someone
higher
in your place.”
It was a known fact that some of the demon princes still lived in the dark corners of hell and didn’t even claim a domain on earth. Like Damas, the one who’d once imprisoned Kat—something she still refused to speak of. But they may soon change their minds when the demonic and heavenly hosts moved for outright war.
Dommiel’s nostrils flared and eyes narrowed. “Done.”
Kat sat up, mumbling, “Well, that didn’t take much convincing.”
I shushed her with a glance. “I need to know if Bamal was the one who broke into the Vatican to discover the prophecy.”
“Before I answer,” he tilted forward, elbows on his knees, “understand that if Jude doesn’t hold up his end of the bargain, I’ll come looking for you.”
Dommiel may not be the most evil demon I’d come up against, but the gleam in his eyes told me he would be a formidable and tenacious opponent if I crossed him.
“Understood.” I offered my hand to shake on it.
Kat slapped my hand away. “Don’t let him touch you! He could sift you out of here.”
I kept my eyes steady on Dommiel, lifting my hand again. “He won’t. This is a genuine peace offering. If he breaks it, he knows Jude will come hunting him. And next time, he won’t just cut off his arm.”
Hesitating at first with Kat hissing next to me like a, well a cat, Dommiel took my hand in a gentle grasp. I pumped my arm once and dropped his hand. He leaned back, grinning.
“Bamal did not break into the Vatican.”
Kat snorted. “Of course he didn’t. But did he hire or
compel
someone to break into the Vatican?”
“Yes.”
Sneaky bastard. Note to self, be specific if you want genuine answers from demons. If Bamal was the one behind the break-in, then he stole the prophecy about the same time he stopped sending men to kill me and started sending them to abduct me. He wanted me alive.
Dommiel lifted one shoulder in an arrogant shrug. “You must ask the right questions, dear Vessel.”
Kat intervened. “Does he have the other half of the prophecy, the part that’s been missing?”
Dommiel’s expression sobered. “No. He does not.”
I shifted in my seat. “Can you tell me anything about Bamal’s Vessel?”
“Only that he prizes her dearly and keeps her close. Is that all? If so, I have work to do.”
I mused a moment, tapping my index finger on my knee. Specific questions. “You said that Bamal doesn’t have the missing part of the prophecy. Do you?”
Dommiel’s gaze hardened, his facial piercings stretching tight. “No,” he gritted out.
I smiled. “But you know someone who might, don’t you.”
He tilted his neck, cracking a joint. “Possibly.”
“Ah-ha!” shouted Kat. “Can’t trust a damn demon. He knows where the freaking prophecy is!”
“I said
possibly
.” Dommiel’s mood had plummeted the second I ventured down this line of questioning. I’d say more than possibly.