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There on bended knees was Jude. Fists tightly clenched and so, so bloody. His head snapped up, black gaze tormented with despair and helpless rage.
Bursting onto his feet, he took in my state of undress as I teetered on the threshold of the door, dazed and terror-stricken. He grabbed me by the shoulders, gaze flicking behind me, and yanked me roughly into his arms, holding me close.
A gust of cool wind slammed the massive black door with a resounding boom, but not before I heard the distinct, smug sound of lilting laughter.
19
Sifting through space, Jude crushed me in his arms, no chance of letting go and losing me in the Void. Iron-clad armor covered me like a blanket of steel. In a state of shock, I held on and kept my eyes closed, oblivious to any motion sickness that normally twisted my stomach when sifting. I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to erase the images of Danté. Impossible.
I don’t know how long we sifted, but when the sensation of falling had stopped, I opened my eyes to see my body, still as death, tucked safely in bed, one arm hanging over the edge. Jude quickly laid my spirit literally on top of my still, solid form. Darkness behind closed lids for a split second before I opened them and sucked in a lungful of air. Whole again.
That elusive feeling of transparency had vanished. Back in my skin in my own room with Jude standing above me, I sat up and burst into tears. Abruptly, he had me on my feet in his arms. Panicked, I pushed away. He pulled me close and sifted out again.
What? Where is he taking me?
I beat and shoved, trying to break free of his tight grasp. My hair whipped wildly. The dark Void sucked at me when I put distance between myself and Jude, drawing me toward windy oblivion. I almost wanted to go. He manacled my wrists, yanking me toward him.
“No!” My scream echoed in the abyss.
Gray shapes blurred past, some drawing closer, as if curious, whispering. I kicked and punched, managing to free one hand. Jude spun me by the other wrist, pinning me against him, my back to his chest.
The vacuum released me, and we were standing in Jude’s living room.
“Let me go!”
He did. Still, I spun with force and cuffed him under the jaw with the heel of my hand. He didn’t resist or restrain me as I rained blows on him, one very hard across the cheek.
I don’t know why I hit him. My mind knew it wasn’t his fault, but my body didn’t care. The fierce hatred boiling to the surface needed release. And he was there, standing and taking it when I needed something to beat.
I finally took several steps away from him, my chest heaving in gasping breaths, hot tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Why did you bring me here? I want—”
“Genevieve, it’s safer here.”
Jude’s voice was thick with emotion I’d never heard before—his words tight and hard. I didn’t give a shit. My body started shaking, teeth chattering with grief and anger thrumming through my veins.
“Safe?” I choked on a laugh, my sardonic tone biting the air. “Safe? I’m not safe! Not here, not with you! Not anywhere!”
His eyes, devoid of all color but the darkest pitch, glared with seething anger. Tangible rage beat off of him in a misty, black aura. This only incited me more.
“How, Jude? How did he get to me? You promised,” I sobbed, “you promised he couldn’t soul-sift me again.”
He stepped toward me. I took a giant step back, bumping against the fireplace, where something poked my shoulder. I jumped at the carven image of the writhing dragon that wrapped the wooden mantel.
My mind shifted, seeing another one, deep red with amorphous eyes…feeling the white fur carpet against my bare back…the bronzed creature looming over me with a sinister grin. Disgust and horror permeated every fiber, though I felt no bruising on my wrists or neck, no memory of Danté’s dark invasion. I sighed a shaky breath, trying desperately to forget the visceral image and feel of him invading my mind and soul.
“He’s grown in power,” Jude began, his own breathing labored. “My cast of protection should’ve kept him at bay. But somehow, he circumvented it. I’m—” He paused. His gaze dropped from me to the floor as if he couldn’t stand to look at me, his bloody fists clenched. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t even begin to touch how I feel.” Voice trembling, I added, “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“What?” His shoulders squared to rigid stone. His gaze was the same.
I ignored his question, unable to keep Danté’s hateful threats from spewing from my mouth. “You know, he talked about you.”
Jude moved closer. There was nowhere for me to go. I tipped my chin up defiantly.
“What”—his voice grating like steel on stone—“did he say?”
