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The salty, musky smell of the river blew in gentle gusts. Water lapped in a steady rhythm against the levy. Warm with wine and safe alongside Jude, I stopped to take in the city lights glistening on the water. A gray pall obscured the moon, like a pasty smudge on a charcoal canvas.
Propping my elbows on the railing, I faced away from the river. Jude rested his hands on my hips beneath the jacket, drawing me close. A breeze caught his hair, lifting and obscuring one eye. I swiped the lock away so that I could see him clearly. Before I drew my hand back, he grabbed it, pulling my wrist toward him. He pressed a lingering kiss against the delicate skin where blue veins crisscrossed under pale skin.
“Did you have a good day?” he finally asked, pulling me gently against him.
I rested my palms against his chest, knowing exactly what that question truly meant.Did Kat help you? Are you okay? Did you miss me?
“Yes,” I answered truthfully to all of the questions in my head.
“Good.”
His arms wrapped around me, pulling our bodies together as one, and his jacket fell away. His lips rested against my skin just below my ear. He didn’t move, caress, or kiss. Simply kept still, inhaling my skin. We stood there, feeling the nearness of each other. The sensation and warmth of intimate touch without aggression or fear stitched a few more seams in that wound inside me.
“I hope this is okay,” he whispered into my ear. “I needed to touch you.”
“This is more than okay.”
My heart had started her erratic beat; the one she made when Jude wrapped around me like this. A hand pressed harder against the small of my back, clutching.
“Genevieve,” he whispered, a hoarse plea.
“I know.”
My body was already responding. I lifted my face up to his, needing him just as badly. A second later, his mouth found mine, prying my lips apart, moving in a sensual rhythm, his tongue sweeping in.
Salt and wine and Jude invaded my senses. I let out a small breathy cry, unable to keep it in. Molding my mouth to his, I slipped my tongue in to taste all of him. A low moan from this splendid man, and my heart skittered away, mingling the emotions of fear and desire. Desire was winning. He spread long fingers into my hair along my temples, cradling me close, kissing me harder.
Some internal warning made me pull away. He let me.
A flutter. A flapping. I glanced to the railing, thinking a pigeon or gull had landed nearby. Staring fixedly from lifeless eyes was a large sable raven.
Jude stiffened. A swirl of black shadow radiated around both of us. Hot fury billowed. Jude’s guttural voice was deep and terrifying.
“Dommiel.”
22
Jude gripped my arm, thrusting me behind him, and unsheathed his broadsword in one swift movement. As Jude swung his sword in a deadly arc, the raven flapped once into the air before silver clipped its wing, sending the creature cawing and tumbling across the pavement.
Ebony feathers spiraled and fluttered into the air. Droplets of black blood spattered the walkway, spraying in wild profusion as the injured bird flip-flopped in panic, creating a morbid Jackson Pollock-like painting across the stone.
“Dommiel!Aperio!”
The power in Jude’s voice shook the air. A black shroud of menace enveloped him in a dark mantle, brushing against my skin, chilling me to the bone. I gasped. Malevolent whispers echoed in the mist, reaching out to me.
Kill…cut…maim…slice…devour…pain.
“Aperio, Daemonum.” Jude’s grave command to “reveal” made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
The injured creature choked out another caw, obeying him at once. Talons elongated and thickened. Feathers ruffled and vanished. Wings stretched, and the fat, round body grew into a man’s torso. Beak shortened, black eyes widened, and bled into red.
Within seconds, there lay the nude form of Dommiel, clutching at the stump of his arm, severed above the elbow and bleeding black. His dismembered limb lay closer to me, the silver skull ring decorating the lifeless hand.
It twitched. I jumped away.
Before Dommiel could even roll to his back, Jude was there, planting a boot into the man’s injured shoulder as he shoved his blade through the demon’s chest, piercing flesh to the pavement beneath with a definite clink of steel in stone. Staked to the ground, Dommiel writhed in agony, bleeding out from several wounds. But a high demon couldn’t die. Was Jude simply torturing him? His misty cape draped over him completely. There was no sign of his other aura of fire and flame.
What was going on? My heart raced into panic mode.
