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“Oh, Genevieve, Genevieve.” My name slipped from his lips like a broken prayer. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Must something be done with me?” I choked out, body trembling, tears still coming, though I hated it. I wasn’t usually a crier, but apparently, near-death terror did that to me. Also, those terrible cries, their pain.
“Be calm.” His voice soothed. He brushed the tears from one cheek with his thumb. “Relax. The pain will disappear soon enough.” He brushed the other cheek, both hands cupping my face in warmth and safety.
I closed my eyes. “I feel so empty,” I whispered, a deep ache expanding in my core.
“I know. The feeling will subside. Relax.”
“What was that thing?”
Opening my eyes, I caught him staring at my lips. One thumb brushed across my partly open mouth. I shivered again. His eyes met mine, unguarded, sparking with glittering shards of gold.
The anger now gone, another heated emotion swirled feverishly, touching the contours of his face with a melting quality. He wanted to kiss me. No mistake. I was shocked by the sudden intrusion of desire cutting through the fear and unfathomable sorrow. His gaze held mine a moment more, his thumb stroking down the column of my throat.
Then his face shuttered closed, his mask well in place. Even while one hand gripped my waist when I swayed and tightened to keep me upright, he broke the intimate closeness.
“I’ll explain everything, but we need to get out of here. Garzel may not have been working alone. I’m in no mood for any more tonight.”
Loaded words.
“No, wait!” I said, realizing what he was about to do. I pushed out of his grasp. “I can’t sift out! Malcolm. Damn. Poor Malcolm. I can’t just disappear.”
No longer touching me, Jude held a blank expression, void of the heat visible seconds before.
“Genevieve. Listen to me very carefully and doexactlyas I say.”
Hell.Angry Jude was back.
“Listening,” I said with not a hint of snarkiness or humor. I might be brave, but I wasn’t stupid.
“Walk straight through the bar, tell the boy you’re not feeling well, and you need to go home. You have exactly eight minutes. Go a second over, and I’ll sift into his fucking truck and take you without warning. I’ll be waiting for you in your bedroom. Eight minutes, Genevieve.”
A whoosh of wind rocked me on my heels. He was gone.
“Eight minutes!?”
I dashed out of the bathroom, dusting off my jeans and smoothing my hair as I sped down the hall around the corner, where I slammed right into Malcolm, holding a beer in each hand.
“Hey, you okay? I was starting to worry about you.”
“Um, yeah, well, I’m really not feeling well. So sorry, but can you take me home?”
Concern written all over his face, he set the beers on a stool, took my hand, and guided me back through the bar. I didn’t even think about warning the muscle-bound dweebs their friend was unconscious in the ladies’ bathroom. He was going to wake up with a nasty headache, but somehow I didn’t feelthatsorry for him. Jude had said demons could only possess those open to them, which meant in some small way, the guy had asked for it.
Malcolm opened the passenger side of his truck for me, hopped into the driver’s seat then headed out. Thankfully, the bar was near City Park, not far from my apartment.
“I hate that you’re feeling bad.” Malcolm kept glancing at me with a worried expression. “Is it your stomach?”
I nodded, doing a damn fine job of using my anxiety as a disguise for a stomachache. Three minutes had passed. I watched the clock on the dash, tapping my foot at each red light.
“You okay?” he asked, noticing my fidgeting.
“I’ll be fine. Just need a little Pepto and bed.”
“You want me to stop and get you something?”
“No!” I yelled. He flinched. “Um, I mean, no thanks. It’s not that serious. Just probably overworked and all… Thanks.”
