Forged in Fire (26 page)

He sounded desperate, like a man on the brink. His hand clutched at my hip. Even through this damn comforter, I felt his warm hand squeezing that spot that made me tighten in low, wonderfully feminine places. The well of emotion in his voice threatened to ignite us both into flames. I was playing with fire, and hell if I didn’t want to get burned, but the consequences of giving in to the heat of Jude could result in Danté having possession of me. Never. I needed to take the reins. I was pushing Jude too far.

“You like to say my name,” I said, combing my fingers softly through the back of his hair. He said my name often, and sometimes his voice lilted like a reverent plea. I’d often wondered about this but never had the courage to ask. Until now. “Why is that?”

Breathing labored, he fell onto his back. I snuggled closer but not too close, wrapping one arm across his waist. He urged me up so that his left arm pillowed my head. When his chest finally rose and fell in a steady rhythm reflecting in-control Jude, he spoke.

“Did you know that Genevieve is the name of the patron saint of Paris?”

“No,” I murmured encouragingly. Jude rarely spoke of his past, especially his life in France. I understood this as a small gift.

“When Genevieve was seven years old, Saint Germanus, the bishop of Auxerre, prophesied her future greatness. She promised to become consecrated to God, and so she did on that very day and again when she was fifteen years old. In 451, when Attila the Hun threatened to overtake the city of Paris, promising to pillage and kill all those inside, young Genevieve implored the inhabitants not to abandon their homes but to pray and have faith that God would save them. I was there, in the crowd, and she seemed to understand something that no one else could.”

“And what was that?”

“That good will prevail if you maintain faith despite the odds. Paris was my city to protect at the time as a Dominus Daemonum, so I had no plans to leave regardless. But she, with unwavering faith shining in her eyes, put me to shame. Many people were furious at her outright blind faith, as they called it. Some wanted to stone her. Others fled in fear during the night.”

“I imagine you put a stop to the stoning,” I said, wrapping my arm more tightly around him.

“I did,” was his curt reply, but I heard the smile in his voice.

“And did Attila the Hun pillage the city?”

“No. She led a group out to the ramparts of the city before daybreak. I was there too, watching. In the face of the enemy, armed with spears and bloodlust, she led the faithful in prayer as the morning light swept over them. That night, Attila led his army south to Orleans, and the city was saved.”

“Was she, was she a Vessel?”

“No. She wasn’t Flamma of any kind. She was simply a woman.”

Why would he tell me this story?

“So, you like my name because it reminds you of the nun who saved Paris?”

The words sounded flippant, but I didn’t mean them to. A slow rumble of laughter vibrated beneath my cheek where it lay on his chest.

“I like your name for many reasons.” His hand played with strands of my hair that spilled down his arm pillowing my head. “Because it reminds me of a woman who had faith in the impossible when all signs threatened bloody death. Because it is French, a name that speaks to me in my native tongue. But most importantly,” he said, shifting and lifting my chin. Our eyes met. He hesitated but finally dove ahead and said what seemed perched on the tip of his tongue anyway. “Because it is your name, the name of the woman who shines a light in my darkness; the woman who will save me from my worst enemy, despair; the woman who currently holds my jaded heart in her very lovely hands.”

He went still. His pulse sped up, pounding in his breast beneath my hands. He was afraid. Of me, and how I would respond to such an open declaration. Trusting me with this vulnerable part of him made something precious open inside. I propped myself on my elbow, weaving my fingers through his available hand, pulling our clasped hands to my lips, grazing a kiss on his knuckles.

“Well,” I whispered softly, “I promise to be very, very careful. I’ve always been known to have capable hands.”

“I bet you have,” he replied at the somewhat teasing statement, pulling me closer.

But the kiss that followed wasn’t filled with heated passion or bridled lust. Rather, it was one of adoration and blooming hope for the both of us, the bonds weaving in and around our hearts pulling a little bit tighter.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“But I just don’t know! I mean, the Jimmy Choos make me taller and make my calves look
amazing
. But then I’ll be able to dance better if I wear these. Whaddya think? Stop reading that magazine and pay attention to me!”

Mindy was on what I call an out-on-the-town high. It starts at the break of dawn with her run to Starbucks for caramel macchiatos with extra shots of espresso for both of us. (She tries desperately to get me hopped up on caffeine so I’ll be as insane as she is about our night out.) The grooming stage occurs before lunchtime, though she refuses to actually eat lunch on these days because it’ll give her a “pooch” and ruin her attire for the event. In reality, she never has a pooch, but I get sick of arguing this point. Grooming consists of showering, shampooing and conditioning her hair using all kinds of high-end products, shaving pretty much everything, and finally painting nails and toes if she hadn’t already gotten a professional mani/pedi for the occasion. From this moment on, she flounces around the rest of the day in her robe, stressing about the details of her wardrobe. We were currently at the obsessing-over-accessories and yelling-at-Gen-to-pay-attention phase of the day.

“Oh, definitely not the Jimmy Choos,” I said with serious finesse. “What if you meet this super-hot guy and the shoes make you taller than him? Some men find that emasculating. Plus you won’t even be able to dance with him if he can get over the fact that you’re taller than him.”

Of course, Mindy was very petite, and even in those five-inch heels, she’d still be shorter than the average guy. But if I didn’t have some kind of input with a crafty explanation, she’d start fussing that I didn’t care and we’d go rounds about that.

“Gen, you’re so totally right. Why didn’t I think of that? Okay, awesome. I’m going to start my hair. Gen! Go get in the shower! I’ve gotta do your hair too, for goodness sake!”

Then she vanished in a whirl of blonde hair and terry cloth. The clock on the microwave read 4:00. She was right. I should start getting dressed if we were to be on time for the limousine picking us up at six. A freaking limousine. Leave it to Mindy’s mom to take us in style.

I plopped Mindy’s
Vogue
magazine on the coffee table and started for my bedroom when a knock sounded on the door. Instantly, my heart stuttered. Jude didn’t knock anymore, he just popped in, literally, unannounced whenever he damn well pleased. Mindy dashed back into the living room from the hallway. Her afternoon run to the Starbucks drive-through was kicking in.

“Who’s that?”

I shrugged, walking over and peeking through the peephole.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“Who is it?” Mindy whispered in her yelling whisper.

I mouthed
Malcolm
. Mindy gave me the uh-oh face and ducked back to her bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. To say that he looked unhappy was an understatement. There were shadows under those usually bright green eyes that were now the darker side of summer. He looked good in his usual all-American way, but there was a sag to the shoulders. He didn’t smile when he saw me, holding a folded paper in his hand. The chill of late afternoon had rolled in.

“Hi,” he said in a flat tone.

“Hi, Malcolm. What’s up?”

The look of defeat on his face made me cringe and wish I’d called him sooner.

“Well, I was kind of wondering the same thing.” He glanced around. “Can I come in a minute?”

For some reason, I hesitated. Jude wouldn’t approve, I knew that. But it wasn’t like I was dating or even thinking of dating Malcolm. And Jude had strengthened his cast around the apartment, revealing that he’d know the second Flamma entered. Not that I thought Malcolm was possessed or anything. Actually, he looked…oh, no. He looked heartbroken. I’m such an idiot.

“Sure,” I said, stepping aside to allow him through the door. “Come on in.”

He sat awkwardly on the sofa, shuffling the paper in his hands between his fingers. I sat in the chair next to the sofa, not knowing what to say.

“Gen,” he started, a sad edge to his voice. “What happened?”

What happened? Like, when? So much crap had happened I couldn’t begin to run down the list. When he realized I was stumped for a reply, he went on.

“I mean, I thought we had a nice date the other night. We had an awesome time. You seemed to enjoy the movie and drinks and laughs at the bar, a nice kiss good night…” Well. That was highly debatable. “Then all of a sudden, you fell off the face of the earth.”

Oh. Yeah, I suppose I did.

“I mean, Gen, I’ve been texting you for nearly two weeks with no response. You haven’t been back to class. If it weren’t for Mary, who told me she saw you at Starbucks, happy and healthy, I would’ve thought you died or something. You don’t have to avoid me, just tell me what’s going on.”

So, this highly awkward moment was why I should never have gone on a date with him. Even then, I knew it was a bad idea, but idiot that I am, I did it anyway. Rule number one, never go out with a guy who likes you twice as much as you like him. Rule number two is, of course, never go on a date with a guy when the sexiest man alive already has you in his sights.

“Malcolm, listen, I’m really sorry. I did have a nice time, but—”

“So, let’s give it a try,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry if I was pushy with the kiss. I know I was a little forward, but, Gen, I really care about you.”

A little forward? I hate to think what he considers a lot forward. He was making this way more difficult than I thought it’d be. To be fair, I just needed to hit him hard.

“Malcolm, you and I have been friends a long time.” He groaned at the dreaded word “friends”, but I barreled ahead. “You’ve always been kind to me, helping me out when I needed, but I’m afraid it’s just not going to work as anything more than that.”

“Why won’t you give it a shot? We’d be great together.”

I shook my head. “I did.”

He stared down at his hands, still clutching the folded paper. “What changed your mind?”

Um, well, Jude kissed me stupid in my bedroom about five minutes after you left. And he doesn’t like to share so that’s that.

“Malcolm, I’m sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath and forging ahead fast. Like taking off a Band-Aid; that was Mindy’s advice. “I’m interested in someone else, and I know I should’ve told you sooner. I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything. But, I’m quite certain this isn’t going to end anytime soon.”

Never, actually, as far as I was concerned. Poor Malcolm’s face blanched white. His lips tightened into a line. His hands clenched the paper he held a little, making me wary. I reached out with my VS but received no paranormal warning of danger. This was just a rejected guy, pissed off at the world. And at me. Still, any sign of masculine aggression put me instantly on my guard, ready to leap into fight-or-flight mode on a dime.

“You’re already seeing someone else? That was quick.”

He could’ve slapped me in the face and I would’ve been equally as surprised by his sharp tone.

“If you must know, he was pursuing me the same time you were, but I didn’t see it at first. And now we’re, well, we’re pretty serious.”

“Let me guess. Does this dick happen to ride a black motorcycle and work for your dad?”

The bitterness in every word made chills run up my spine. I shot up out of my chair. “It’s none of your damn business, Malcolm. I think you better leave now.”

His eyes shifted to the floor, then back up at me. He bore a much more penitent expression than he did a moment ago. Or was he sorry he made me angry?

“I’m sorry, Gen, I didn’t mean it. I guess I’m the dick.”

I didn’t argue.

He let out a bitter laugh, standing from the sofa. “I actually would like us to still be friends,” he added quietly, hesitantly.

“Maybe,” I replied, still on guard.

A heavy, heavy sigh. “I’ve had it bad for you for a really long time. I actually thought that… Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought.” He ran his fingers through already tousled hair, then handed me a somewhat crumpled paper. “Here. Your midterm from Professor Bennett. I told him you were ill and that I’d give it to you.”

“Oh. Thank you,” I said, trying to let appreciation show in my voice because he was in no way getting a good-bye hug. I took the paper, my anger dissipating. This was the kind Malcolm I knew, covering for me at class. The jealous Malcolm was a total jerk. I moved to the door and opened it.

“Gen, I’m sorry,” he said again, stopping at the door.

He reached out to touch me, but I flinched back. Any man with menace or anger lurking about him made me cringe away. He dropped his hand and tried for a smile. I did my best to smile back.

“I am too, Malcolm.”

Once the door was shut and bolted, I searched my midterm for the grade.

“A C-! What the hell!”

Mindy raced out from down the hall, holding three different clutch purses in silver and black.

“What! What is it?”

“That freaking professor gave me a C- on my midterm,” I yelled, flipping the pages to his comments in the back.

“Omigod, Gen! I thought it was a real emergency,” she said, flitting back to her bedroom.

Scrawled in his ridiculously feminine handwriting at the bottom of the last page were these words:
Ms. Drake, while your intellect is evidently superior, your reasoning as to why demons actually do exist and plague humans in the literal sense is preposterous. Were it not for your definitive remarks on the matter, your grade would have been much higher. As it is, I cannot reward faulty logic and reasoning, no matter how well-crafted it may be. In addition, attendance to class would not go amiss.

“Pretentious ass,” I muttered, throwing the paper on the coffee table and stomping to my bedroom. “Well, I certainly do hope you’re never in need of a demon hunter, Mr. Bennett, because you can’t use mine! I’ll stand back and watch, debating with you whether the thing trying to crawl inside your body is actually real or not.”

I turned on the scalding water, letting all the nasty comebacks I had for Mr. Bennett play out in my head. After a long steamy shower, I stepped out in a much lighter mood, realizing Mr. Bennett couldn’t help the fact that he was a grade-A moron. I almost felt sorry for him with all of
his
“faulty logic and reasoning”. Hmph. Wrapping a towel around me and tucking it under my arm, I stepped out of the bathroom and nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Ack! Jude! Don’t ever scare me like that.”

In charcoal slacks and a snug, light gray sweater that hugged every delicious part of his upper body, he leaned casually against the doorjamb of my walk-in closet directly across from the bathroom. With arms folded and one leg crossed as well, propped up at the ankle, he looked like a model on display. His eyes, molten gold ringed with obsidian, made a slow, slow progression down my body and back up. My hair snaked in wet trails across my bare shoulders and down my back. I shifted, self-conscious of my near-nudity. When his eyes made it back up to my lips and stopped for what seemed like a freaking eternity, I lost the ability to breathe. I cleared my throat.

“What, what are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the ball.”

Finally, his eyes lifted to mine, smoldering and dark and knee-bucklingly sexy. Yet, he didn’t move toward me. Not an inch.

“I brought you a gift.”

His voice was rough as bark, rubbing a sensuous promise against my skin. When Jude was steely and hard like this with slow, deliberately calculating eyes, my body turned to jelly. I had no idea how I was still standing under his heated gaze.

“Oh?”

I gathered my dripping hair over one shoulder and used another towel on my sink counter to squeeze it dry, trying not to notice that he watched me with predatory eyes.

“I would love to do that for you,” he nearly whispered.

I paused with my head at an angle, gazing up at him.

“Then why don’t you?”

A slow shake of the head. I’d never seen him bite his lip like that, but when he did, my whole body shivered in response, wishing he’d come closer. I took a step toward him.

“Stay where you are, Genevieve.”

A rough, sultry command, but a command nonetheless. He kept his stance casual, but all his muscles locked tight.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing will go wrong as long as you keep your distance in that flimsy piece of fabric that’s supposed to be covering you.”

“My towel? What’s wrong with my towel?”

I glanced down. I was fully covered. Well, up to midthigh. Maybe a little higher. I had long legs.

“Nothing at all, love.” That endearment made my stomach flip. “But the thought of what’s under it makes me want to misbehave.”

I swallowed hard, knowing his resistance was as thin as the fabric barely covering my body.

“Where’s my gift?” I asked with my attempt at a smile.

He nodded toward the bedroom. I walked over, seeing a strappy thing lying across the bed. I picked it up. It was made of fine black leather with a single sheath for a beautifully made stiletto. The blade was razor sharp, thin, about eight inches in length. The thicker hilt, fitting perfectly in my palm as if it were made for me, bore a sinuous design of two lovers locked in rapture. The male lover bore wings. My heart pounded harder. I knew this design, knew it well.

“Eros and Psyche. It’s lovely,” I murmured, wondering at my beautiful yet practical gift. “I don’t get how this straps on, though.”

Jude had moved closer, hands in his pockets. He was honestly trying to keep from touching me. I found the thought rather humorous, wondering at the power I had over him in this moment. I lifted the soft leather straps, trying to figure out how they’d cross my chest.

“It goes on your thigh, Genevieve.” My eyes jumped to his. “From the looks of things, it’ll fit just right.” His gaze lingered on my legs, or rather, the very tops of my legs, seeming to measure the straps with his imagination.

“You think so?” I teased. “Should I try it on to be sure?”

Otherworldly eyes flared fire-bright.

“Don’t you dare.” His threat wasn’t menacing, but breathed all kinds of danger. The kind of danger I seriously wanted to get into. “I thought it best you have protection that was easily concealed. Remember, no casts of illusion tonight. We want the demons to find you.”