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“Nothing will go wrong as long as you keep your distance in that flimsy piece of fabric that’s supposed to be covering you.”
“Something wrong with my towel?” I teased.
The towel stopped higher than midthigh. 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 dagger.
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 truly was trying to keep from touching me. 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.”
“Do you think Bamal’s men will know how to find me?”
“Oh, yes. They’ll be there. Without the cast of illusion, you burn like a bonfire.”
I was thinking the same of him. Illusion or not, Jude was a constant burning flame.
“It’s kind of funny, but I’ll have to focus to not use my VS tonight. It seems to snap on without my even thinking about it.”
“VS?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“You know, Vessel Sense. Sort of like spidey sense.”
“Ah.” A smirk lifted his beautiful lips almost into a full smile.
“Why, what do you call it?”
“I don’t,” he replied, matter-of-factly.
I rolled my eyes. Of course not. He was too serious and practical about such things.
“Do you want to see my dress so you can find me at the ball?”
“I’ll find you.” A rough promise as he stepped closer, hands still in his pockets.
I froze like a statue, the anticipation of his touch an exquisite torture all its own. But he didn’t touch me. He stopped an inch from my body, leaning down toward my neck, his breath skimming my skin. I waited for the kiss of lips. It didn’t come. His whisper caressed and tormented.
“Vanilla and—what’s the floral scent?”
“Cherry blossom.” I reddened at that, especially when I received a full smile for the response and all its implications—sweet, innocent and bursting with flavor.
“Mmm. Perfect.”
