Forged in Fire (18 page)

Those eyes—inhuman, otherworldly, unnatural and mesmerizing beyond reason—paralyzed me into a statue. I didn’t move a muscle as one side of his mouth quirked up in a sad sort of smile. He brushed a long finger along my jaw, then pulled away, as if touching me now caused him even more pain. My heart clenched into a tight ball.

“Do you see, Genevieve, why I protect you?”

I nodded, biting my bottom lip and refusing to cry. He needed to redeem himself, pay for his past failure to save the first Vessel of Light who still held his heart in a gilded cage, locked away from the likes of me. He needed to avenge her, especially since the high demon Ru’um was the same one stalking me. I felt sick.

“Can you take me home now?”

He went to the wall of steel and iron, pulling open a drawer hidden away in the shelf at the bottom of the case. He held out what appeared to be a pile of straps with two small sheaths.

“It’s a vest. You loop it across your chest and shoulders like this,” he said, gesturing how to pull it through the arms but without offering to touch me and show me how. No need to get too close, I suppose. “The sheaths fall flat to your ribs.”

“What goes in them?” I asked, trying to sound businesslike.

Before I could even finish the question, he’d pulled out two sleek silver daggers, black-handled and beautiful. The blades were only an inch longer than the handles, but sharp as razors.

“The distribution of weight makes it easier to wield. Much more accurate if you should need to throw them at your attacker from a distance.”

I thought of throwing those Chinese darts with Erik, wondering if Jude had some sort of telepathy to know about my hidden talent. I nodded, sliding both weapons into their sheaths.

He ushered me out of the room. The door closed with an audible snick, closing his pain away from the world and prying eyes like mine. Ironically, the sting of this discovery made me want him even more—to hold him, comfort him. But that was Kat’s job, not mine.

We walked in silence down to the street. Of course, Kat had left her car for him. A girlfriend does those kinds of things. A girlfriend does all kinds of things. Like kissing him good night, tucking him into bed, tucking into bed with him, kissing him good morning.

“What?” asked Jude, opening my passenger door.

“What do you mean, what?”

“You made a sound. What were you thinking about?”

The hell if I’ll ever tell you!

“Nothing.”

We rode all the way to my apartment without saying a word. Jude didn’t seem to be brooding or anything, just thinking. I was doing my damnedest not to think of the man next to me in bed with the perfection that is Kat. Of course, my stupid mouth doesn’t always listen to my brain.

“Kat is very beautiful.”

A sidelong glance. Dark eyes glimmered with gold. “Yes.”

Hmph.

“She’s pretty tough, too,” I admitted.

“Yes.”

“And smart.”

“Very.”

So last night’s kiss—well, more than a kiss—was just what? Proving he was the big, bad alpha male? Point taken. He obviously regretted it, knowing he’d misled me with some pretty strong signals. I let out a huff as we pulled up the drive, opening the door and slamming it shut, practically stomping like a child to the door.

“Genevieve, is something…?”

“What time are we meeting at Tartarus?” I snapped, rounding on him at the door.

He wore a quizzical, I’m-not-amused expression. Like I cared. What reason did he have for that look of censure? I was the one being led on, the one being kissed, then dismissed, and on top of that having to take lessons from the goddess girlfriend.

“I’ll pick you up about eight thirty.”

“No.”

“No?”

One dark eyebrow shot up as he pushed into my space.
I don’t think so, Mr. Hotness.
I backed to the door.

“Mindy and I were supposed to have a girls’ night tonight, so I’ll have her with me.”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll pick you both up.”

“No, Jude. Listen, Tartarus is only a ten-minute drive. If you really think me completely incapable of making that short jump without your constant guardianship, then by all means follow us, but I’m driving
my
car with
my
best friend.”

I sounded snippy and petulant. I didn’t care. I needed space. Badly. He must’ve seen something in my eyes, because he stepped away from me.

“Fine. Nine o’clock sharp. Don’t be late,” he commanded, low and menacing.

I opened and closed the door in his face just about as fast as I’d done to Malcolm the night before. I doubt that had ever happened to R-and-B. Ha! I went into my room and tossed my net-o-daggers on the table.

“Eeeeeeeeeee! Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!”

A little blonde cannonball launched into my room and knocked me to the bed in a tumble of squealing excitement.

“What, Mindy, what!”

Thankfully, she was laughing, or I would’ve thought something was terribly wrong. She waved a black-and-gold embossed square of cardstock in my face so fast it was a blur.

“What is it?” I asked, giggling.

She stood up on the bed, hiding the expensive-looking invitation behind her back. Clearing her throat and straightening her shoulders, she gave me her best British accent, which was horrendous.

“Ms. Drake, you and I shall be shopping for very expensive formal gowns, as we are cordially invited to”—she paused, taking a deep breath and screaming the last—“the Crescent City Masquerade!”

She squealed again and thrust the invitation in my face, bouncing to sit beside me while I read. I scanned to the date and place—October 31st, Oakwood Plantation.

“What! How did you get this?”

“It so happens that my mom’s boyfriend, Bill, who I thought was pretty worthless up until now, had an extra invitation, which counts for two. So, hello, my lovely date. We’re going to the freaking Crescent City Masquerade!”

I couldn’t help but bounce in giddy excitement with her. This was one of the most posh balls in town outside of the elite Mardi Gras balls. A formal masquerade at a plantation house with full orchestra, where the rich and beautiful of old New Orleans would glitter with the elegance of a bygone era. Mindy had shown me pictures of the last time her mom went with a friend a few years ago. Extravagant, lush, gorgeous!

“Can you believe it, Gen? First, your dad offers the trip to New York, and now this! It’s like we’re blessed or something.”

Blessed? Hmph. Doubt that. My jailer hadn’t said if I could go to New York yet. Of course, that’s because I hadn’t asked his permission. And now I’d have to ask him to go to this. I wanted to scream.

“Well, Mindy, we must celebrate. How about dancing at Tartarus?”

“Seriously? Eeeeeeeeee!”

Mindy was the one always dragging me out, not the other way around. Tonight, I had a few demons to hunt, and I planned on looking like a she-devil myself to show a certain someone what he was missing.

Chapter Sixteen

“Daaamn, girl!”

I grinned sheepishly, knowing I’d turn a few heads tonight, hoping one in particular would snap his neck and get a crick when he did. I glanced in the mirror above the sofa. Dark red skinny jeans, black V-neck top that hugged just right and square-heeled black boots fitted to the thigh. The only jewelry I wore was my St. George medal, falling below my collarbone. The bite mark had faded entirely. I straight-ironed my hair, making it fall in sleek lines to the middle of my back.

The dagger vest fit snugly on the outside of my top, the blades at angles along each side of my rib cage. I’d summoned the cast of illusion but was still anxious about whether it would work even though I felt the power humming along my skin. Since Mindy hadn’t said anything about the weapons strapped under my breasts, apparently I’d done it right.

“Not too much, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? I love it when you dress like that. Here, try this lipstick. It’ll go perfect.”

Mindy was makeup lady extraordinaire, always equipped with the perfect blush, gloss or eye shadow for any occasion and any outfit. She was right. The burnished mauve shade on my lips made my skin glow even brighter.

“See?”

“Did I say you were wrong?”

“Come on. Let’s go!”

“You’re lookin’ pretty hot yourself, Min.”

Sporting a silky silver minidress with black cowgirl boots, Mindy would draw them like flies. I’d have my hands full watching out for her. Ever since we became friends in middle school, I’d felt extremely protective of my petite friend. It started in sixth grade. Though small, Mindy was a voluptuous thing. Developing early was a disaster for her. One day, I’d caught a group of seventh-grade boys cornering her in the gym, singing in mocking voices,
“Mindy stuffs her bra-aaaa, Mindy stuffs her bra-aaaa.”
That asshole Travis was trying to see for himself if it was true. Fortunately, I was taller than even the eighth-grade boys at the time, so I stepped in, punched him square in the nose and threatened to beat every one of them if they messed with her again. My heroic feat had the desired effect. On the downside, the rumor of me beating the snot out of the scariest middle-school bully also frightened away any boy who might’ve been interested in me for years. Hence, my lack of boyfriends throughout high school.

For some reason, her sweet-n-sexy demeanor coupled with her small stature lured all kinds of losers, thinking to take advantage. Good thing she had an Amazon for a best friend. And now, thanks to my demon-hunter duo, I had a few more moves and weapons with which to do some damage.

I locked the door of the apartment. Mindy started singing one of her made-up songs she tended to create when she was super giddy, twirling her wristlet around in the air. “Min and Gen, hittin’ the town, dancin’ all night, and messin’ around!”

I laughed as we strapped into my 380ZX and I zipped out of the driveway into traffic. Damn, it felt good to be behind the wheel again. For some reason, it seemed like forever. I checked the perimeter for Lord of Protection. No sign of him.

“So, what happened with you and Malcolm last night? You never told me. Was he a good kisser?”

“Mindy! Please.”

“Oh, don’t you
please
me. Geez, for a tough girl, you can be a total prude. Give me the juice.”

“I am not a prude,” I protested, shoving into fourth.

“Um, yeah. You are. But I love ya anyway. So, what’s up with Malcolm?”

“It was fine.”

“Fine?”

Mindy twisted in her seat to stare me down. I hated when she did that, trying to read my face. She was good at it.

“Oooooo, what happened?”

I realized I was blushing. It had nothing to do with Malcolm and everything to do with the hunk of man who came into my bedroom afterward and kissed me senseless. “Nothing. I mean, we had a good time, had a few beers.”

“Aaaand?”

She waved her hand, palm up, trying to pull the information from me.

“And, yes, we kissed.”

“Oooooo, where?”

“At the front door.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She gave me a devious smile. I punched her lightly. “Stop it. To be honest, Min, he was a terrible kisser.”

“Oh, nooooo! But he’s such perfect boyfriend material. A bad kiss can ruin everything!”

And a good kiss can melt your brain into mush. Not to mention what it can do to other parts of the female anatomy.

“Well, you can always teach him.”

“Very funny. It’s just, I don’t know, I’m not feeling the chemistry.”

“Uh-oh. Then break it off now and try to keep it friendly.”

“Yeah. Well, I haven’t talked to him since last night, and he’s texted me like three times ‘hoping I had a good time’, as he put it. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to lead him on, you know?”

“Take it from me. Do it fast and quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Trust me, it’s better if you’re up-front.”

“Yeah, you’ve had a lot of experience with breakups. You’d know.”

A sweet giggle. She knew I was teasing, even though it was true. “I can’t help it. I like boys.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that addiction of yours. Here we are.”

I found a good spot under a streetlight, not in a dark alley where David had parked us last time. Moron. I could feel the music pumping from the entrance. The big-and-beefy bouncer stood on duty again.

“Hey, there, Sunshine,” I said cheerily, passing him my ID. “You still here?”

He glanced at my license, then handed it back between his index and middle finger, raking dark eyes up and down.

“Still here.” Nice deep Conan-like voice to match the physique. “I’ll be glad to go wherever you go when I get off.”

Mindy pinched me and pushed me through the door. “Geez, Gen! You’re snatching them up already.”

I tried to remember why I was really here, wishing now that I was just out with my best friend to have a good time. We must’ve come on goth night. This crowd preferred dark monotones. Florence and the Machine’s “Heavy In Your Arms” pulsed slow and intense. Mindy made a beeline for the blue-lit bar.

I reached out with my VS, not sensing the presence of Flamma. Glancing up at one of the metal cages on the edge of the dance floor, I saw Kat swaying gently. She winked at me, then looked away. I realized then that I wouldn’t detect Flamma or demons if they were casting illusion.

She wore skintight gray pants and a white blousy top. Of course, daggers were strapped to her thighs, but I couldn’t see them until I focused very hard on breaking through the cast of illusion. I marveled at how the casts worked. What you saw and were able to penetrate depended not only on the strength of the caster but also on the strength of the one trying to break it. Non-Flamma couldn’t break through a cast even if they knew it existed.

“Appletini, please,” Mindy called to the smiling bartender.

“Oh no you don’t,” I whispered. “No way am I carrying you out of here like last time. Two Killians, please.”

“Ugh. Okay, mother hen. Hey! There’s Jeff from psych class.”

She sauntered over to a guy standing with two others at the end of the bar. I’d actually seen one of them somewhere on campus before, but couldn’t think where.

I waited for our beers, then joined them. Mindy laughed heartily at something Jeff said when I walked up.

“I know! I think the professor’s half-crazy herself. Jeff, this is my best friend, Genevieve.”

“Nice to meet you,” he replied with a smile. “These are my roommates, Matt and Isaac.”

Matt gave us a friendly nod and went back to a conversation with the brunette on his left. They seemed like nice guys. Jeans and T-shirts. No frills. The kind of guys who made me feel comfortable. Why couldn’t Mindy date a guy like Jeff instead of Dazzling Dave?

“Let’s go dance!” screamed Mindy, pulling Jeff with her.

Isaac didn’t move, keeping his back glued to the bar. I nodded to the floor. “You wanna go?”

“Uh no. Not much of a dancer.”

I decided to stay put too. I could scope out the scene better from here.

“So, did you get all of the information you needed on
Paradise Lost
?” asked Isaac.

I scrunched my eyebrows together, then remembered. He worked at the library. I’d seen him a few times on study nights with Malcolm and Mary. Isaac had bright blue eyes, framed behind thin, silver-rimmed glasses. An attractive face, though the angles were a bit too sharp. His brown hair curled at the nape of his neck. He was cute and nice, which made me wonder why he was standing so aloof, as if trying to be polite but keep some distance.

“That’s where I know you from. Yeah, we got everything we needed. That was for a test in Renaissance Lit.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Professor Bennett?”

“Yeah.” I smiled, though it didn’t put the guy at ease. I tried to figure out why all the tension, glancing down as I took a swig of beer. Oh, my attire. I looked like I was going to kick ass and take names. Well, I planned to do exactly that once I found myself a demon. I hadn’t thought of how my aggressive, albeit sexy-as-hell, getup would affect anyone else, especially Mr. Librarian. “Bennett. He’s such a douche.”

Isaac laughed. Nice sound. Nice guy. I wished I wasn’t scaring the crap out of him.

“He is definitely that. Smart as hell, but he’s got the god complex of a lot of professors.”

I tried my friendly smile. He seemed to relax a bit. “So, I know this sounds like a line, but do you come here often?” he asked.

“No.” I laughed. “Mindy brought me here on my birthday not long ago for the first time. Not my normal hangout.”

“Mine either,” he said, relaxing further.

I almost laughed. I felt like I was trying to gentle a timid dog closer to my fingertips for a morsel of bread. We fell into comfortable conversation for several minutes when I sensed
him
. I scanned across the bar, spotting Jude in the same shadowed corner where I’d first seen him, gazing at me with heat and flames. How he didn’t set me on fire with that raw, burning gaze I’m not sure. And yes, like a moth to the light, I couldn’t help myself.

“Be back in a minute, Isaac.”

I set my beer down and walked into the throng on the dance floor as Tool’s “Sober” began thrumming slow and steady, vibrating through my chest. People sort of swayed and bobbed heads rather than danced as the hypnotizing cadence rocked the place. Sweat and perfume mingled as bodies pressed close. I wove slowly through the crowd, catching Jude’s fuming gaze over the crowd as white spotlights swiveled over us to the beat. I wouldn’t be intimidated. At least, that’s what I told myself. I walked tall and strong, grazing by dancers, pushing through them. The whole while, Jude melted me with his black stare. By the time I cleared the last obstructing person to the small space he occupied, my heart hammered at a painful speed. Still, I held my chin high, never breaking eye contact. That would be a sign of weakness. Not tonight.

His voice scraped on that gravelly level. “What exactly do you think you are doing, Genevieve?”

His eyes dropped to my breasts. The effect was palpable. He might as well have grabbed my blouse and stripped them bare.

“What do you mean?” I tried to act casual, though it sounded like a frog was caught in my throat. “I’m meeting you here for demon-defense training. That was the plan, right?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

A rough hand wrapped around my upper arm.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” I said as nonchalantly as possible. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“With pleasure.”

Both hands were sealed around my arms, my back pressed into the shadowed corner behind him. His thigh pushed between my own. I tried desperately not to moan, barely succeeding. He kept his chest from touching mine, as if that barrier was too dangerous to cross. The whole while, the angry beat and words of “Sober” pounded into me. I glared up at him, willing myself not to melt.

“Dangerous girl, aren’t you, Genevieve? Let me explain to you very clearly what I mean. Dressing in this fashion with a body like yours gives off a certain signal to men, which I could care less about. What I do care about is the signal you’re sending to me, for it is quite clear this
is
for me.”

One hand slid to my hip.

“Stop it. You have no claims on me, Jude.”

“Don’t I?”

“No. I won’t be the other woman to your girlfriend, Kat. I’ll never be second to anyone.”

His expression shifted. A ghost of humor crossed his face, then was gone.

“There is nothing, has never been and never will be anything between Kat and me but a history of expelling demons to the underworld.”

“But, well then…why did you regret last night…what we did in my bedroom?”

“I have no regrets in my life but one. Maybe two. Last night was far from a regret and far less than what I wanted to do.”

I sucked in a breath.

“I don’t understand,” I struggled to say, wedged in by the heat and muscle of him hazing my senses. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“Untainted hands, heart and body. Do you remember me telling you about that?”

I drunkenly nodded as his thigh brushed between my legs again.

“When I see you like this, touch you, I’m quite willing to go to hell for a taste and drag you down with me. Both our souls be damned. I’m restraining myself not for any gallant reason. Burning awhile in hell is a small price to pay to quench the burning I have for you. But”—he leaned closer, lips brushing my ear—“what I won’t allow is any possible opportunity for that filthy fuck Danté to get his hands on you. You are mine, Genevieve. And I will have you. Do you understand my meaning now?”

I think I stopped breathing halfway through his speech. I couldn’t move. I should’ve been more disconcerted by the callous way he tossed our souls aside, but his thumb brushed my lower lip, forcing my mouth open, and I just couldn’t think anymore.

“Do you understand?” he asked, voice husky, warm breath close to my lips. “Say it.”

I was caught in the storm of his eyes, walled in by flickering flame, unable to say a word.

“And so there’s no misunderstanding whatsoever, you can warn the boy, or not, that if he dares lay a finger or even thinks about putting his lips on this skin,” he rumbled darkly, trailing his index finger along my jaw, down my throat, over the hollow to the V of my shirt, “then he won’t even remember his own fucking name when I’m done with him. Are you getting my meaning now?”