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“Don’t be coy, Genevieve,” he grounded out low and deep, his back to me as he wiped down the second sword and put it away. “It’s written all over your face.”
Swallowing hard, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his back and the perfect way his shoulder blades gave way to strong lines rippling with each movement, sinewy muscle disappearing into the waistband of his pants.
He toweled off then slipped a black T-shirt on. “I can sense the change. You’re becoming aware.”
“What do you mean by ‘becoming aware’?”
“You’re beginning to see past thealucinatio.”
I frowned. “Past the ‘illusion’?”
He nodded.
“Do you mean like glamour? Like vampires?”
“There’s no such thing as vampires.”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot. Those monsters are mythical. Right.”
He walked over to his iPod station, ignoring my sarcasm.
“So who exactly can use alucinatio to hide their true selves?”
“Not hide, but mask. Any of theFlamma.”
“Wait. That meansfireorflame.”
“Yes, this is the name given to those who are, shall we say, touched by fire.”
“Now I’m even more confused. Who are these Flamma exactly?”
“Any intelligent, sentient being other than human.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question. I’m even more confused.”
“I’ll answer almost any question you have, Genevieve. Be specific.”
I didn’t miss the slip of the wordalmostin there, but I was on a mission. “Define Flamma. Touched with fire by whom? God, the devil, angels, demons?”
Black eyes measured me carefully. “All of the above.”
Again, I found myself wavering between fantasy and reality, wondering how the hell all this was happening to me.
Jude had unplugged his iPhone, turned off the machine, and walked closer.
“So tell me, what did you see?”
I closed my eyes, struggling with the truth. “I saw you.”
“And what was I doing?”
“You were fighting someone, but you were younger than you are now.”
I kept my expression as blank as I could, not wanting him to know what I really saw, what I felt coursing through me. Bitterness, rage, and utter despair. Was that who he truly was?
He stepped even closer. I hated when he did this, inching inside my comfort zone, scattering my brain cells to never-never land. To make matters worse, a sweaty Jude was a hotter Jude—literally and in every other way. His molten gaze flickered over my face, down my body then back up.
His voice was soft and deep when he asked, “And what did you feel in that moment of Sight?”
