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Malcolm nodded and, by some miracle, had me on my doorstep with one minute to spare. As Malcolm faced me at the door, I was very aware that Jude was waiting in my bedroom. In my bedroom! My stomach did a flip-flop at the thought, and I realized perhaps my stomachache wasn’t a total ruse.
Malcolm tucked me into a bearlike hug, planting a kiss on the top of my head. I have to admit it felt quite nice in his arms. He was such a gentle soul that I felt comforted by his close presence. Comforted but not safe. I glanced behind him, so sure a demon or that Collector thing would pop out and snatch us both.
“Sorry to end the night this way, but I should go in,” I mumbled, giving him a gentle squeeze and pulling back.
“I had a wonderful time tonight. I’d like to spend more time with you.”
I looked up and nodded, smiling as best I could. He leaned down for what I thought would be a peck goodnight. He gave me a soft close-mouthed kiss, pulled back a second then leaned toward me again. This time, he pried my lips apart, slipping his tongue in tentatively. It was such a shock, I didn’t resist. I mean, I had given all the signs I’d enjoyed the night and would welcome a little affection.
Still, I stood there, letting him kiss me. Doing nothing may have given him the wrong impression, because his lips pressed harder, then he gave a soft moan as his tongue plunged in with sloppy earnestness.
“Oh, Gen,” he whispered across my lips, diving back in for more full-on tongue thrusting.
His other hand slid down my neck, fumbled over my shirt, over my breast, stopping to cup and squeeze. What the hell! Didn’t I say I had a stomachache? Not that I really did, but come on. I eased away, breaking contact and pushing his hand away. The whole event lasted all of maybe twenty seconds but felt way longer.
“Good night, Malcolm.”
Before he could say or do anything else, I slipped through the door and locked it shut, leaning against it. Pressing the back of my hand to my lips, I took a deep breath. The apartment was ghostly quiet. Mindy had texted me while we were at the movies that she would be out late with Dave. Though the place was silent, I was not alone.
I crept toward my room like someone going to the hangman’s noose. I hoped Jude hadn’t seen or heard what just happened on the doorstep.
Walking closer to my bedroom, I sensed him there. My VS recognized the hard strength of his presence, wrapped in flame.
My mind drifted through the different sensory signatures I’d discovered. Kat felt like warm waves on a sandy shore. Those lower demons felt like needles prickling along my spine. The Dungeon master, Dommiel, exuded a penetrating fear before intense pain, if that made any sense. Danté was the ice man with a capacitating gift to freeze with a burning touch.
But Jude. He was all heat and steel and rock-solid, bone-melting beauty. His presence felt like unquenchable fire and impenetrable armor all at once—smothering and burning me with an insatiable need to bask in the nearness of him.
Within his fiery aura, I felt protected, rocking gently within his ship of flame, sure to be taken to safe harbor. I stopped walking, inhaled deeply and blew out a shaky breath, willing myself to be calm before I stepped into the bedroom.
The lights were off. A dark form stood tall and still, his profile silhouetted by the faint light filtering through sheer curtains. A long, sharp line angled against the wall—his broadsword. He didn’t face me as I entered. When he spoke, his voice was steady, level, distant. Cold.
“Do you trust me, Genevieve?”
A simple question. Of course, I did. Everything I knew about Jude incited trust. Though the man himself was still a mystery, he’d done nothing to make me doubt his intentions. Having saved my life now several times and having never harmed me in any way, how could I not trust him?
There was a heaviness in his voice, as if this question held the weight of something far greater than I could fathom.
My reply came out low but strong. “Yes.”
He continued to gaze toward the curtained window, his frame stiff and unyielding. I stepped farther into the room, standing at the edge of my bed.
“Do you believe I am thinking only of your safety when I tell you to do something?”
Uh-oh. I knew where this was going.
“Jude, listen, I know that—”
“Answer the question.” His sharp tone halted the pitiful excuses about to spill from my mouth.
He turned to me then. Though I couldn’t see anything but the black outline of his body, I felt the weight of his eyes. Could he see me in the dark? I wondered what other gifts a Dominus Daemonum might have in his arsenal.
“Yes.”
He walked toward me, stopping outside that personal zone he so often liked to fill up with all his manliness.
“Then tell me”—his voice monotone, but sharp as a razor—“why do you value your life so little to leave this apartment for what, a romp about town with your boyfriend? You don’t seem to comprehend your new reality at all.”
His voice was calm but edged with danger.
