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“Friends of yours?”
“A friend. Yes.” He sighed and crossed his arms, shoulders drawing tight. “He’ll help us.”
Us. Jude saw this asourproblem, not mine. I should be grateful for that. He had made a mistake. A big one. I needed to accept that and move on. Allowing him to wallow in his misery only hurt us both. I blew out a breath and leaned with one hip against the counter.
“Jude, can I ask you something?”
A sharp nod.
“How did you know he’d soul-sifted me? I mean, how did you know to come for me?”
He paused. “Honestly, I’m not certain. I was lying in bed. I felt a tremor, a disturbance, and somehow I knew you needed me.”
I frowned, wondering how that could be possible. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure, but I can tell you this. No matter what, I’ll always come for you,” he said softly, tucking a lock of loose hair behind my ear, then pulling his hand away, fixing me with a look that made me breathless. “Always.”
I gulped hard, unable to speak.
“I’ll be damned,” he added, “more so than I already am, before I let him take you again.”
More so? I gazed up at his beautiful face hardened by grave determination, such depth of feeling etched in every line. I needed this man beyond reason, and I couldn’t explain why.
“Would you do me a favor?” I asked softly.
“Anything, Genevieve. Anything,” he said with such emotion I thought my heart would break in two.
“Kiss me.”
I wanted Jude to erase the memory of the demon’s lips, so rough and cruel against mine. I wanted the sensation of touch from someone who cared about me. I wanted…I wanted Jude.
He stared as if memorizing my face. Obsidian eyes lingered over cheek, brow, nose, lips. He hesitated, then cupped my cheek, letting the tips of his fingers edge into my hair. Leaning down, he brushed his lips lightly against mine. As he coaxed a soft kiss from me, I met him with tenderness. He didn’t deepen it but only showed me with feather-lightness that I was still his.
“So strong, my Genevieve,” he whispered against my lips. “My warrior woman.”
I’m not sure if he knew what it did to me when he claimed me in such a way. I shivered from head to toe.
“Cold?” he asked, planting gentle kisses up my cheek, across closed eyelids.
“No.”
“Scared?”
“Yes.”
He paused. Words so soft. “I’d never hurt you. Never.”
He made his way across my brow and descended, giving me assurance of my safety and of his feelings for me. He angled his head and pressed in a little deeper, barely opening his mouth. After the slowest, most languorous kiss I’d ever experienced, he lifted away, pressing warm lips to my forehead.
My heart hammered against my ribs, partly from fear, partly from desire. I pressed my cheek against his chest, wrapped my arms around his waist, and listened to his own heartbeat racing. A wave of relief swept through me.
Fear hadn’t ruled me. One stitch closed a seam in the fracture caused by the demon prince.
I mumbled low, lower than a whisper, “Thank you.”
20
The trickle of water calmed my nerves. I stared at the frozen figures of Eros and Psyche, wrapped in a passionate embrace. Psyche had fallen for Eros blindly, not knowing the man, the god, who made love to her every night in the dark. When she finally saw his true form, she lost him, forced to wander and seek him out across the heavens, the earth, and the underworld. I wondered at this as the slow, waking sounds of the city rose with the gray morning light.
