My mouth went bone dry. He was so pissed.
“Why do you keep calling him a boy? He’s twenty-one years old. He’s a grown man.”
A derisive noise, almost a snort, came from the shadow before me. I felt the touch of shimmering flame he wore like a coat wherever he went.
“Mmm.” He inched into my space. I inched back, feeling like cornered prey. “And tell me, how do you know he’s a grown man?”
Words dripping with sarcasm. Malcolm was a good friend, possibly more than a good friend. Angry heat flushed my cheeks. “He’s, I mean…he just is!”
“‘He just is.’ Excellent definition. I’ll have to remember that.”
He mocked me. I was glad to have the darkness to hide the smug smile he surely wore and the humiliating flush crawling up my cheeks.
“Well, he’s a gentleman, that’s for damn sure!”
He inched closer. Though my eyes had adjusted, I could only see his outline in the dim light.
“Really? Gentlemen molest women on their doorsteps without invitation nowadays? Interesting. I hadn’t realized the definition had changed so much over the decades.”
“What! You saw! You watched me when he, I mean, when I… Damn you! That’s why I went out on my own tonight. I don’t want a babysitter all the time!”
Closer still. The backs of my knees bumped the edge of the bed.
“Babysitter? Honey, I’m not sure what mirror you’re looking in, but you are by no means a baby any more than that boy is a grown man.”
Honey? He’d never called me an endearment, and though I caught the condescending tone, the possessiveness in his voice struck me near dumb.
“Well, what’s your definition of a grown man, since you know so much?”
Already breathless, I hoped he couldn’t sense my nerves fracturing on multiple levels. The overwhelming sensation of his nearness in the dark was heady, intoxicating. I felt dizzy, wanting to grasp his shoulders for support, but I dared not touch him.
“A man,” he said, deep voice like velvet, warm breath caressing my cheek, “knows when to take action and when to be still, knows his strengths and his weaknesses, knows control when it is necessary and release when it is essential. And a man”—his voice had dropped deep, throaty, close to my ear—“knows when a woman wants him and how to please her.”
Two words popped into my head, and before I could possibly consider the consequences, the challenge shot from my mouth.
“Prove it.”
Jude crushed me onto the bed before I could blink, his glorious, hard body caging me in. A large hand hooked behind my knee, bending it as he fitted his pelvis to mine, his arousal pushing into the vee of my jeans. God! I gasped. Fingers spread into my hair, gently tugging so the column of my throat arched for him. I made a breathy sound as he scraped his stubbled jaw along the soft curve of my neck, trailing warm lips back over the rough abrasion. He tilted my head straight again, rocking against me in one slow movement.
“Ah.” A helpless pant escaped my lips.
If I could see his face, he would certainly be smiling. I was boneless beneath him. I bit my lip to keep any other embarrassing noises from escaping, as if that might help. His hand at my knee slid up along my thigh to my hip, massaging gently. Even through my jeans, his touch seared me to the skin.
“Let go, Genevieve.” I still held my bottom lip tightly between my teeth. “Open for me.”
God, the man’s voice rumbled so low, a rough whisper caressing me in a tangible way, forcing me to obey. I did as I was told. Those lips I’d caught myself staring at entirely too often showed me the difference between the boy on the doorstep and the man on top of me.
Slowly, slowly, his lips urged mine apart with gentle yet determined movements until I tasted the invading heat of his mouth. His tongue came in—exploring, demanding, claiming me as his own. I’d felt desire before, but not like this. An aching need wrenched at my core, tightening low and deep. His aura of fire singed me from the inside out, waking every sense, wrapping me in palpable longing. A burning tendril reached out, weaving around me, into me, pulling me toward him like the tide to the moon. How did I ever mistake Danté for Jude? I knew in that moment no man would ever come close to him, no matter how long I lived.
I threaded one hand into the hair at his nape, shocked at the silkiness. My other hand moved along his neck to the crook of his jaw, feeling the muscles work as he continued his deep invasion. I couldn’t keep the little whimpering noises from escaping my lips. He responded at once, pressing his erection harder, grinding against me, kissing more deeply, nipping at my lips with his teeth, then devouring me again with heavy intent. My back arched, a primitive response, pressing my breasts against his chest. The friction wound a knot in my abdomen. He moaned. Christ! The sound made me want to give him everything, give him all of me. My other leg bent of its own will, inviting and cradling him between my thighs.
The moment he settled perfectly between my legs, he froze, paused and pulled away. Almost too abruptly, as if he’d realized or forgotten something. Though his voice came out calm and steady, the rapid tattoo of his heart vibrated through his chest to mine. He lifted his body an inch, no longer touching but hovering in torturous intimacy. I almost cried out in anguish.
“Proven?”
What? Proven? What was he talking about? My mind had nearly melted away the conversation before this more than heated interlude. I could hardly form a coherent thought, much less speak, still panting and wanting more.
A throaty laugh. His chest rumbled, inadvertently, or maybe on purpose, rubbing the tip of my breasts. I definitely whimpered at that. He bent his head, keeping our bodies apart, sweeping his lips lightly along mine, giving me a brief, wet kiss, tugging at my lower lip before letting go. He released a jagged breath.
“Don’t settle, Genevieve. Don’t let strangers grope you on dance floors. Don’t allow college boys to fondle you in doorways. Don’t waver in uncertainty about your own desires. Even ageless, life is too short to live halfhearted. Know what you want. Endeavor to seize it, and keep it when you do.”
The mattress shifted as his weight lifted off the bed. A swift whooshing sound, and he was gone. His heat lingered on my swollen lips, my chest and lower. I curled onto my side, feeling bereft and so very alone. I’d forgotten all about Garzel and the Collector and Malcolm. None of it mattered as Jude’s advice swirled in my mind, specifically the last words he spoke to me.
“I thought I just did,” I whispered into the dark.
There was no answer.
Chapter Fourteen
“Gen, wake up!”
Mindy shook my shoulder, hissing close to my ear. I jumped awake, positive a demon had found me and broken in. But seeing Mindy’s impish smile hovering over me, I knew otherwise.
“What?”
She giggled. “Um, that extremely hot guy is sitting on our sofa, said he had an ‘appointment’ with you this morning.”
She’d even done air quotes for “appointment”. I glanced at my iPhone. It was 8:10.
“Damn it,” I muttered, nearly falling out of bed. “Mindy, please, please, please ask him to give me ten minutes.”
“Oh, Gen. You take your sweet little ole time,” she said in her best Scarlet O’Hara impersonation. “I’ll be more than delighted to keep the gentleman company.”
She shot me a devious grin before prissing out of the room, still in her pink cotton pajamas and white terry cloth robe, her blonde hair twisted in a neat little bun. I rolled my eyes and scrambled toward the bathroom.
After a two-minute shower, I brushed my teeth and towel-dried my hair, letting damp waves fall loosely. Powdering some concealer under my eyes and on the fading bite mark, I noticed the bite had already nearly healed. Kat was right. We do heal quickly. Come to think of it, I’d never been one to bruise easily or show injuries, even in my early days of learning karate. I’d always thought it was just good genes and lots of vitamins, but perhaps it was something else in my blood—whate
ver made me a Vessel.
With that thought, I examined the fast-healing wound across my abdomen. The angry red welt had already thinned to a white line, barely puckered on the smooth skin of my stomach. The stitches hadn’t even fully dissolved, and the wound had nearly healed.
I brushed a little mascara on my lashes and dabbed tinted lip balm on my lips. Glancing at my reflection, I tried to ignore how tired I appeared after tossing and turning for an hour before falling into a fitful sleep. All thanks to Jude’s bit of advice that had me wondering why he seemed to care so much about me, while at the same time rejecting me and finally leaving me in a stupor of sexual frustration.
“Good enough.”
I pulled on black workout pants and a white tank with spaghetti straps, then zipped on my green hoodie. After slipping on my shoes, I headed into the living room to find Jude filling it up with his massive presence. Lounging on the sofa with one arm across the back, the other casually on his thigh, he seemed too big for the room.
“…but it’s really a matter of practice and perseverance.”
“Fascinating. Simply fascinating,” Mindy said in a rapturous tone.
Fascinating? I’ve never heard that word come out of her mouth since I’ve known her, which has been since the sixth grade. I tried not to snort with laughter. She was perched in a ball, her head on her knees next to him on the sofa, making googly eyes. Much to his credit, he acted quite casual about her overt attentions.
“Oh hey, Gen.” All innocence and bright blue eyes.
“Hey.”
I glanced at Jude, then away. His gaze was fixed on me, making me self-conscious, especially after last night.
“What were you two talking about?” I asked, trying to eat up the awkward silence.
“Workouts. I was curious how Jude kept in such great shape,” she replied with a sexy lilt to her words.
Geez, Mindy! Heat crawled up my cheeks, but Mindy kept her sweet smile on like this was a perfectly normal conversation to have. Why not ask him how he got so hot and what it’s like looking like a sculptured god?
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” said Jude, standing and taking her hand, brushing a kiss along the top of her delicate hand. How he made this old-fashioned gesture seem normal, I still didn’t know.
Mindy tittered. Yes. Tittered! Like from a freaking bad movie where stupid girls giggle like melodramatic morons to something the hot guy says. Did she just bat her eyelashes? I was going to kill her.
“Good-bye, Mindy,” I said through gritted teeth, heading for the door. “Be back this afternoon.”
“Okay. Movie night, tonight, right?”
“Yep. Your choice this time.”
“Bye, Jude,” she crooned sweetly.
I rolled my eyes at her, following Jude to the curb, where he opened the passenger door of a sleek black Audi.
“New car?” I asked, stepping in.
“It’s Kat’s,” he replied, closing the door without explaining further.
He didn’t need to. I was a big girl and figured it out pretty fast. Sifting and riding the motorcycle required close skin-to-skin contact. He must regret what happened last night, for whatever reason, and planned to prevent a second occurrence. Damn him.
“Okay, so I want to talk about last night,” I said as soon as he backed out of the drive.
I caught the sudden clenching of his hands on the steering wheel and wondered once more why he’d kissed me last night and had gone all cold with me this morning. Was he just trying to teach me a lesson and put me in my place in a macho sort of way? Or did he truly desire me? He didn’t say a word as he headed into traffic, shoulders stiff. I waited a minute, letting him stew, before I continued.
“That demon, Garzel, why did he tell you his name but not his master’s?”
Jude visibly relaxed, apparently relieved my questioning was about demons and not the super-hot make-out session on my bed. I might let that slide for now, but not forever.
“One of two reasons. Either his devotion to his master was such that he didn’t care about his own well-being, or his master had put him under a spell, a compulsion, where he couldn’t reveal the name. It was most probably the latter.”
“But if it were the latter, he had no choice but to refuse your demand.”
“True.”
A glance from simmering, dark eyes.
“But then, you gave him to that Collector thing when he couldn’t help from refusing you?”
“True. Is this line of questioning going somewhere?”
“Well, I’m trying to figure out how you could hand over a helpless creature to that, that thing, when it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t give you what you demanded.”
“Helpless creature? You do realize he nearly killed you.”
“Yes. Of course.” Okay, not helpless, that sounded stupid.
“You do realize he has killed many, many others.” Jude’s icy words made me feel small. If he was trying to push me away, he was doing a damn fine job. “Garzel is a demon. He deserved no mercy.”
Yes. He was right, but there was something unjust about condemning a creature, even an evil demon, to an eternity of some terrible fate when the creature had no choice but to obey his master. This ruthless side of Jude put me on my guard a little more. Perhaps last night was a mistake, no matter that the electric heat between us still filled up the small confines of Kat’s car.
“So what is the Collector? That angel-of-death-looking thing.”
“Acheron is a soul collector. What we call endless death.”
I remembered that he’d given Garzel an option—truth or endless death. So he had summoned that thing last night to be his underworld assassin.
“When he takes you,” Jude continued, “there’s nothing but an eternity of sorrow and emptiness, a lifeless agony where the soul has no respite.”
“Acheron? As in the river in the underworld from Greek mythology? That’s quite a coincidence.”
Jude drove down Decatur, the streets rather empty this time of day.
“Not a coincidence. Mythology always has a grain of truth, does it not? Acheron is a river of souls, of sorrow and lament, feeding on unending woe. Some call them soul eaters, not Collectors.”
“Nice.”
Jude ignored my sarcasm and went on. “I imagine the Greek philosopher who first put the rivers into writing was a Flamma of some kind, knowing the truth of our world and wanting to put fear into the living.”
“Wait, there are five rivers in the Greek underworld. There are five of those Collector things out there!”
Jude nodded. “Though they don’t all look like Acheron.”
“Thank God,” I sighed, remembering the sight of the ghastly wraith and the touch of hollow, eternal sadness when it opened its mouth.
“Some of them are far worse. Acheron is rather…docile, compared to his brothers and sisters.”
“Docile! Are you kidding me?”
“Afraid not,” he said, pulling onto Dauphine and backing into a spot behind his bike.
“Wait. Acheron actually bowed to you before he left. Do you know him? Like on friendly terms?”
Jude shifted sideways in the seat, one hand on the headrest behind me. “No one is on friendly terms with a soul collector, but let us say he and I have an understanding of sorts.”
“Of sorts? What sort of sorts?”
“The sort that helps me do my job.”
“As a demon hunter.”
“That is what I am.”
His aura of flame, though not visible, licked around the tight cabin of the car. I caught his eyes flickering to my lips, then up so quickly I might’ve thought I imagined it. But I didn’t.
“And how exactly does one become a demon hunter? You never told me. Do you just sign up to chase down evil for an eternity? Or did you do something naughty and get punished?”
His eyes sharpened, narrowed. Swirls of black glittered with gold. He moved closer, or perhaps I’d moved closer to him. Hard to tell. �
��Brazen words. You sure you want the answer?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. I try not to say or do things I’ll regret.”
Whether he got my meaning or not, I couldn’t tell. He held me in his gaze for a heartbeat, considering something, then opened his door.
“Kat is waiting,” he said, stepping quickly from the car.
“You’re really good at avoiding questions you don’t want to answer,” I said, sidling up beside him as we passed into the alcove leading to his courtyard.
“Lots of practice.”
“Hmph, speaking of which, how old are you anyway?”
He held open the wrought-iron gate for me to pass through. A cool breeze blew over me, lifting my still-drying hair as I swept by him.
“Old enough to know when a woman is baiting me into an argument I don’t want to have.”
“Woman? It seems you treat me more like a child most of the time.”
Except for last night, of course. He unlocked the door and stepped aside in a courteous manner to let me go first, reminding me he certainly had lived in a bygone era and had maintained some of its chivalry. I wondered if he’d also maintained some of its brutality as I moved ahead of him up the stairs. He followed very close behind.
“Oh, Genevieve,” he rumbled, making something tighten low and deep. “I never mistook you for anything but a woman.”
I was then all too aware he had a full view of me from behind walking up the stairs, feeling his eyes on every part of my body, specifically the lower half. I hurried the last few steps and spun around to face him, not seeing Kat in the living room.
“Where is she?”
He stood there, grinning with a scintillating, closemouthed smile on his lips. Those lips. I thought of where they’d touched me last night. A flush of heat crawled up my neck. He blinked heavily, then pointed down the hall to his studio. Pivoting at once, I tried to get away from him before he read all my thoughts. Too late, of course, for he knew exactly the kind of effect he had on me. What I wanted to know was why the hell he’d shut everything off all of a sudden. In the midst of my inner turmoil, I tried to figure out whether I should even pursue anything beyond the protector/protectee relationship. Jude followed me into the studio and closed the door.
Forged in Fire Page 15