Chapter 12

Mary had been right. Professor Bennett's exam on Milton was a torture device masquerading as an assessment of Paradise Lost. After ten short discussions and two multi-paragraph essays requiring textual evidence, I thought my brain was going to melt. Bennett was such a sadist. He loved making us sweat, and he was doing a damn fine job of it today.

The exam had already begun when I'd crept in a minute late. Malcolm had given me a sharp, annoyed glance before burrowing back into his test. That was when I remembered I'd promised to call him after the incident in the French Quarter and had failed to keep that promise.

Geez, Genevieve. Can you get any more inconsiderate?

Mary gave me a two-fingered salute as she dropped her test on the pile on Bennett's desk. Of course, Bennett wasn't even present. His annoying grad assistant relaxed lazily in the professor's chair, kicked back with his Converse shoes propped on the desk, flipping through some Marvel comic way too loudly.

I stopped contemplating the agony of the test. Instead, I started devising the best way to torment a certain insensitive grad assistant—the rack seemed the best option at the moment, perhaps disembowelment—when Malcolm finally made his way to the front, plopping his exam down and making a hasty exit.

I scribbled my last paragraph, not really caring if I was right or wrong. Somehow, Bennett's philosophy on angels and demons didn't matter so much anymore. I knew a hell of a lot more than he did, regardless of what grade he gave me.

I threw my paper on his desk and ran after Malcolm. He had just passed through the double doors opening to the commons area. I sprinted, punching through the door and hurrying across the leaf-littered walkway.

"Malcolm! Wait!"

His shoulders hunched as he stopped, turning slowly. I was panting by the time I caught him.

"Hey."

Awkward pause. "Hey."

Damn. He was pissed.

"Listen. I'm sorry I didn't call this weekend. There was just so much going on."

You seriously have no idea. Like so much going on.

"Sure. I understand."

But he didn't.

"I'm sorry if I was rude the other night. I wasn't ditching you, but I didn't want my dad to worry."

When did I become such an amazing liar? We started walking again, making our way to the far end of the commons toward a side street.

I glanced down, thankful again to Jude for allowing me (yes, fucking allowing me) to stop by my apartment so I could change before he dropped me off at school. It would be even more awkward having this conversation in an oversize T-shirt that obviously belonged to a large male. I didn't think I could explain that away so easily. Besides, I needed this high-necked hoodie sweatshirt to hide the ghastly bite mark purpled and tender at the base of my throat.

"No biggie." Malcolm shrugged. "It would've been nice to know what that was all about, though."

"Yeah. I know I owe you an explanation. It's kind of complicated."

Malcolm took hold of my forearm gently and stopped us both. He faced me, speaking low and even. "Try me."

The expression on his face made my heart hurt. He really liked me, and I wasn't so sure I couldn't like him. We'd been friends for nearly two years, and he was fun to hang out with. I mean, this was the kind of guy I needed to date—funny, good-looking, a gentleman, and completely lacking in the dark-secrets-and-rage-issues department. I sighed.

"I can't tell you exactly, but my dad gambles a bit on the side." Not completely a lie. He gambles, but not at a casino, just with his buddies on poker night twice a month. "And, there were some guys who thought maybe my dad had cheated, and they were pretty upset about it."

Well, the guys did accuse dad of cheating like every week because he always won. They were so upset, they demanded he bring a case of beer if he beat them more than five rounds.

I stopped talking because anything else I might say would be a complete and total fabrication. I made this sort of and-that-was-that shrug of the shoulders, hoping he'd fill in the rest with his imagination.

"So, that guy was like a bodyguard or something, to watch for any sort of retaliation?"

I gave a sharp nod. A breeze caught a stray lock of hair that had fallen from my messy bun. "Something like that."

Malcolm's eyes followed the strand whispering across my lips. I tucked it back into place. His winning smile was back where it belonged.

"You don't have to tell me anymore. I can see it's personal."

"Good. Thank you."

The sudden rumble of a motorcycle engine pulled our eyes across the street. Jude had been so curt and quiet this morning, dropping me off without a word, I'd thought he might give me a reprieve from the babysitting routine. No dice, apparently.

"Are you kidding me?" Malcolm grumbled, not even trying to hide his disgust. "Genevieve, does your dad think there are mobsters who are going to attack you on campus?"

The biting sarcasm was so unlike Malcolm. It didn't suit him at all.

"He can be really overprotective sometimes. Silly, I know."

Malcolm glared at the man in denim and leather astride the sleek, black crotch rocket. "You're not riding on that thing with him, are you?"

I suddenly felt sweat beading along my temples. I'd never had to evade and tap-dance around the truth so much. This charade was becoming exhausting. Finally, I just straight-up lied. "Yeah, Dad wants me to go straight to the dojo."

"Whatever, Genevieve."

Malcolm had moved away again, and for some reason, I couldn't let him stalk off in a fog of bruised male ego.

"Hey!" I caught him by the arm. "Why don't we go see that movie you were telling me about tonight? I could use a little R and R after that horrific midterm."

"Really? You want to?"

"Sure I do!"

A bit too enthusiastic, even to my own ears.

"Will your bodyguard have to come?"

"No! Of course not!" Oh crap. Of course, he will.

I flashed him a smile. His brown hair slipped, covering part of one eye, making him look adorable, and I found myself excited about a night out with boyishly charming Malcolm.

"Sweet. Pick you up at six-thirty."

He leaned down and brushed a light kiss on my cheek. That felt a little weird but sort of nice. I decided I needed to see if there could be something between us. Malcolm was perfect boyfriend material. Right?

The motorcycle across the street revved.

"Six-thirty," I repeated, then marched across the street.

I couldn't see Jude's eyes behind the helmet screen, but my VS sensed a definite unsettling aura in the air. I caught the helmet he chucked at me when I was a few feet away.

Pulling it on, I then cinched my backpack tightly over both shoulders and slid into place behind Jude, locking my arms around his waist. He cast that iron-clad armor on me the moment I made contact with his body, then mumbled something under his breath. All I caught was "kid" and "head" or "dead" or something.

"What's that?" I asked.

He snapped his head sharply to the left. "Nothing."

Then we went from zero to sixty in a blink. I squeaked and held on tighter. I swear Jude sped even faster. He was getting some sort of sadistic pleasure out of this, I was sure.

A cool front had settled in after the rain. My hands were trembling by the time we wound our way through the Quarter. At a red light, Jude took me by the wrists and tucked my hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. His right hand lingered on my wrist within the pocket, his thumb brushing back and forth over the fleshy part of my palm. My heart leapt at the sensation.

I dared not imagine this meant more than it did. Clearly, Jude felt some sort of protective responsibility for me and my well-being, though I still had no idea why. On green, his hands slipped back out to the handlebars. I pressed myself to his back, gathering what warmth I could. Okay, maybe it wasn't just for the body heat. I couldn't help myself.

When he pulled into his parking spot on Dauphine Street and stopped the engine, I was reluctant to move, so nice and warm against him. An odd silence drew out. Perhaps only a few seconds, but it felt long and stuffed with too many thoughts that would remain unsaid. Finally, I lifted off his body since I was glued to him and then off the bike.

Without a glance in my direction, he marched ahead into the alcove. After making our way through the wrought-iron gate and into the courtyard area, he stopped and pointed to the left.

"I'm sorry. What?"

He wouldn't speak to me, and I had no idea why. He seemed pissed off. What was it with everybody today? I followed his line of direction to see Goth Barbie sitting Indian style on a small patch of grass near the water fountain I'd heard so often.

"Am I supposed to…?"

Before I could finish my question, Jude was already gone. He sifted out in an electric snap.

"Rude much?"

I walked toward her. Her hair was the same as the other night, braided in a long golden rope down her back. Her night clothes were gone; now she wore stretchy black pants and a red long-sleeved knit top. She seemed to be in deep meditation as I approached but gave me a brilliant smile when I stood only a foot from her.

"Hi, Genevieve. I'm Kat. Please have a seat."

She gestured to the small grassy space in front of her. Her voice was soft but husky.

I took a seat, mirroring her position. To my great dismay, she was even more beautiful up close. Creamy-pale skin with a dusting of light freckles across her nose and cheeks. Dark eyes, the same forbidding shade as Jude's. However, instead of flecks of gold, the inky color of her irises was broken only by small slivers of moss green. A burning churned in my stomach.

"I'm Genevieve, but I guess you already know that."

She smiled. "Jude asked me to come, to train you in what I know of the Vessel."

I frowned. Her part American, part English accent was as lovely as she was. "I thought Jude would train me."

She laughed, a full throaty sound. "Well, he doesn't have, shall we say, what it takes to train the gifts of a Vessel. One needs a softer temperament to find that peaceful place."

She smiled a secretive smile. The burning increased. How long had she known Jude? And in what capacity? Friend? Lover? Like it was any of my business. Still, I couldn't help but hope they'd never been anything but platonic colleagues.

"So, what do we do?"

"Shall we start with questions? I'm sure you have quite a few."

Questions? Are you kidding me? Like a billion.

"Wow, um, where should I start?"

I was actually flustered as I gathered my thoughts together.

"How did I become a Vessel? I mean, why me?"

"That I do not know, I'm afraid. We all have our roles to play in this world and the next. This is yours."

Strike one.

"Okay. How many Vessels are there in the world?"

"At present, I am certain there are a minimum of six, maybe more."

"Where do they live? Are most in the US or in Europe or where?"

"Actually, none of them live here on earth."

"Excuse me?"

"They live in their demons' realm. Not here." Her voice dropped, a flicker of pain creased her brow before she went on. "The only time they surface is when possessed by their demon host. Now their demons reign over territories here. For instance, though I still don't know his identity, I know that one high demon rules in New York, where I work."

"As a Dominus Daemonum."

"Yes." She smiled again. "There are others in distant lands. You can bet that wherever there is disorder, chaos and war, a high demon probably rules there with a Vessel, if he has one."

"But, I still don't understand what it is a Vessel actually does. Why am I here? Other than being the target of every demon in the world, that is."

"When a Vessel is fully awakened and has come into all of her power," she started in a quiet voice, "she can use her gifts to destroy evil. Her visions of Sight can warn Flamma of Light. Her abilities as an empath can influence and manipulate the feelings and actions of others, including those of demons. Even more, she can banish demons to the farthest corners of hell."

I gasped. "Like you? Like demon hunters?"

She nodded. "Yes, but without some of the drawbacks of our position."

"Drawbacks such as?"

She flipped her braid and straightened her posture, her expression solemn. "The evil we fight can weigh us down over time." She glanced away, obviously uncomfortable. "A Vessel would feel none of that."

"But, how does any of what a Vessel can do help demons?"

Her gaze shifted back to me. "If you are corrupted by evil, all those gifts would become the gifts of darkness, to do terrible things."

A shudder shook me to the bone as something finally dawned on me.

"So, none of the Vessels are actually free of a demon host, as you say. They are all owned and possessed by a high demon?"

She nodded.

"Has any Vessel you've ever known been able to live free of a demon host?" My voice sounded low and choked with fear.

"None that lived."

I blinked hard and gazed at the fountain on our left. I'd never actually seen the figures poised in white stone above the trickling water. Eros and Psyche locked in a passionate embrace. He held her voluptuous nude form, partially horizontal, from behind—his right hand caressing her face that fell back to gaze up at him, his left wrapped around her rib cage and gently cupped her breast. Her arms encircled his head as he dipped low to gaze on her beauty, his wings lifted high as if he would take flight with her at any moment.

I jumped when Kat put her hand over mine in my lap.

"Don't worry, Genevieve. I never knew any of these other Vessels. I don't think they had anyone to train them, to help them, before they were captured. Some survived and fought for several years, but eventually, they succumbed to the darkness or to death." I couldn't breathe, wondering how in the world I would survive. "But Jude tells me there is an inner strength in you, and—" Her full lips tightened into a line.

"And what? What is it?"

She glanced up at the balcony overlooking the courtyard as if searching for the owner's stalwart form.

"He doesn't want me saying too much, but I think you have a right to know because I'm sure I'm right."

"Right about what?"

"There is mention of someone, a woman, a Vessel, in a prophecy. She will tip the scales one way or another in the war."

"In what war? Like the Middle East or something?"

She shook her head. "The war between the hosts of heaven and hell."

I blinked several times. "Excuse me?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled. "The hosts of the two realms have battled one another from afar, using humans as pawns, since the beginning. But there will come a time when the powers of light and dark will wage their war on this middle ground, on earth. This war will ultimately determine who reigns for eternity."

"And when will this war take place?"

"It could be any time. Today, tomorrow, in a year, in a hundred."

"Well, if it's a hundred, then it definitely can't be me."

"Why is that?"

Could she be that bad at math?

"Umm, I'll be dead by then. I mean, we have longevity in my family's genes. I had a great grandmother who lived to ninety-six, but I doubt I'll live another hundred."

Her head angled to the right. Her eyebrows rose in a questioning way. The long rope of her golden braid fell across one shoulder. "Jude did not tell you?"

The way her words were spoken slow and low, my heart skipped a beat or two. "Tell me what?"

"All human Flamma are ageless. This would include you."

Now my heart was really pumping. "Ageless. What does that mean? Immortal?"

"Not exactly immortal. Your human body can certainly die, there is no doubt. However, we do heal faster. All Flamma, that is. One of the perks of fighting nasty demons."

My stomach muscles clenched, straining the stitches along my abdomen. Yes, definitely mortal, though I'd noticed the angry red line had already faded greatly beneath the stitches.

"Though not immortal," she continued with my rapt attention, "you will not age beyond your current years, and you will not die of natural causes. At least, that's what we've noticed of the Vessels we've been able to keep track of."

A choking laugh escaped my throat. "Are you telling me I could live to be a hundred? And still look like this?"

"One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, who knows? Just as a Dominus Daemonum."

I flinched. "You're immortal? Jude is immortal!" My voice escalated into a fever pitch.

"Not immortal. Our physical form can die as surely as a regular human. Our souls are a different story, of course."

She said the last with a sad sigh. I couldn't get past the idea that Jude was much older than I'd originally thought.

Holy crap! How old was he? This explained so much about his demeanor and strange vocabulary sometimes. Ageless. You'd think I'd be past shocking revelations, having encountered shape-shifting demons and sifting hunters, but still, my mind reeled from the idea.

"How old are you? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

She smiled. "I was born in 1803 in Manchester, England."

I laughed. "Seriously?"

"I realize that may be difficult to accept, but it is true."

"Difficult? You have no idea. So, how old is Jude?"

She glanced back up at the empty balcony. "Older than me."

"When was he born? Where was he born?"

"I don't know exactly. You should ask him, though I doubt he'll tell you. He's a bit secretive."

"That's an understatement."

I bit down on my bottom lip. What the hell? What else didn't I know?

This was a huge piece of information that he failed to pass along. I was grateful for the forthcoming, albeit ridiculously beautiful, demon hunter sitting before me. The idea that I could outlive my father was not too distressing as that was always going to happen, but the idea that Mindy and my friends would continue to grow old while I remained the same gave me a sinking sensation.

How could I keep friends for any extended period of time without them knowing? How could I ever possibly have a husband and children and watch them grow old and die, while I remained? The answer was clear—I couldn't.

My stomach clenched into a knot with all the tragic realizations passing through my mind.

I thought of Jude. Now, that forlorn, almost lonely expression he wore sometimes made total sense. How long had it been since his family and friends had died? I wondered if he'd ever been married. A stinging pang pierced my heart.

"Any more questions before we try our first lesson?"

I shook off this new revelation and thought for a minute. There was something I'd been wondering but was too afraid to ask Jude, mostly because I was afraid of the answer.

"Will I ever be able to protect myself from demons, specifically a high demon?"

Her dark eyes swirled with more green than black. So strange. From afar, the eyes of a demon hunter appeared normal, just dark. Up close, one could see the pools swimming with something not of this world.

"Yes. I think you will. I won't lie. Most Vessels are unable to continue the battle against the dark forces seeking you for their own, but I believe you will. Even now, I can feel your essence beating brightly within your chest. It's almost blinding to my hunter senses. I'm surprised you aren't being attacked all the time."

"Actually, I am. Or at least, it feels like it."

My fingers went to the bite on my neck. She fell silent, then finally spoke softly. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes held so much compassion. I knew the vicious mark was hidden, but she seemed to know it was there all the same. I felt the sharp prick of tears behind my eyes.

"I am. I almost wasn't. He…he called me his bride."

I knew my eyes revealed the same fear I felt yesterday when Danté had me in his arms, leering down at me as if I were the mouse being batted around by the cruel, creepy cat.

She squeezed my hand. "I understand your fear." She swallowed hard, such deep empathy in her gaze that I wondered what she wasn't telling me. "But we will do everything we can to keep you safe."

"But, his bride? I mean, what the hell?" My voice lapsed into cynical humor.

Kat didn't laugh. "When a Vessel is taken in possession by a high demon, she becomes his—body and soul."

I shuddered, inhaling deeply and letting it go.

"Thank God Jude came in time yesterday. The demon, Danté, must've sensed him coming. He sifted out a second before Jude walked up."

She gave me a warm smile. "He will lay down his life to keep you from harm. Trust me on that."

"But why?"

"He has his reasons."

"Which are?"

"You should ask him."

I sighed heavily. More evasion. Well, not exactly. Perhaps Kat didn't really know and was just putting me off.

"Now then. Let's get started. Give me your hands."

She held out both hands, palms up. Warmth covered me like lapping waves on a sandy beach. She cast illusion over me. A very different signature than Jude's iron-plated vise and flaming aura.

"Do you feel it?" asked Kat.

"Yes."

The sensation of being immersed in warm water was strangely comforting, like a baby in the womb.

"One Flamma's cast can call to another's, so I think it best to start this way and see if we can draw yours all the way out. Okay. Close your eyes."

I did so.

"Now, I need you to imagine the safest you have ever felt, whether it's a specific memory or a place or a person. Doesn't matter. Picture it in your mind."

She paused. I thought for a moment. The safest I've ever felt? My mind wandered, then fell upon a repeated memory from childhood.

Mother would come into my room at bedtime and read my favorites by Dr. Seuss. Nestled into the crook of her shoulder with one arm wrapped around me and the other holding a book, I was safe and loved and completely innocent of the encroaching darkness and loss in our future. I could hear her sweet voice crooning to me. "Today, you are you. That is truer than true. There is no one alive who is You-er than You."

"Do you have it?" asked Kat, startling me from the memory. "No, keep your eyes closed. This is your safe house. When casting illusion, especially to cast a strong shield, you must go to this safe house. That is where you start. Concentrate on the memory now."

I closed my eyes again. My mother's golden-blonde hair tickled my cheek as she leaned down. She snuggled in closer and turned the page.

"There are words, chants," Kat continued in a low voice, "chants for many different things. We hunters have our own for what we do, but there is one for casting illusion, for protection." She recited the words slowly in Latin, and I translated in my head. Through time and space within your heart, there is a place where one must start, within this seed of hope there lies, a warrior shield to deceive all eyes.

She paused, holding my gaze, then said in a serious tone, "Repeat the words while thinking of your safehouse."

Thinking of my mother's lovely pale eyes and warm smile, I repeated the Latin chant line by line as Kat said them too. When I spoke the last line, I felt a concentration of heat pool within me, extending to Kat in a burning flash.

In my mind, I saw a starburst of light, like fragments of the moon, explode into glittering brightness. She gasped and squeezed my hands. My eyes popped open.

"What? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?"

Her greenish-black eyes swirled. She shook her head once as if trying to awaken herself from a dream. Then shock melted into a wide, wide smile. She laughed that throaty laugh.

"Oh, Genevieve. I wouldn't worry so much. Your casting is already at full strength. How, I don't know. Simply amazing," she marveled.

I couldn't help but grin back at her. She inhaled a deep breath. "Your defense is more than ready."

"Really?" I heard my voice squeak. "So I could shield myself entirely from demons finding me now in public?"

"Oh, yes. If you shield yourself in this capacity, they'll only see a pretty girl, nothing more."

I was beaming.

"Now that your defense is in order, tomorrow, we will work on offense. Yes?"

"Yes."

As she told me farewell and sifted out of the courtyard, I decided I truly liked Kat. She was genuine and compassionate. I grimaced at her ability to disappear and go wherever she wanted. Like Jude. I wondered how someone got that power. That would certainly come in handy.

I stared at Eros and Psyche a minute longer, frozen in passion, then went to find Jude.

I was hoping he was watching television or something, but then I hadn't seen a television anywhere in his house. What I didn't want to do was interrupt another of his swordplay episodes in his training studio, all sweaty and half-naked.

Of course, that's exactly where I found him.

Thankfully, he had his shirt on this time and was kicking a punching bag in the center of the room. Okay, kicking was putting it mildly. Tool's "Schism" pumped through the room. At the end of each line, "I know the pieces fit," Jude would kick the hell out of the bag. The bag fell all the way to the floor with each roundhouse, slowly righting itself before he'd smash it again.

"What did the poor thing ever do to you?"

He snapped up, broad shoulders tense, face guarded. He walked to the sound system connected to his phone and stopped the music. "How was the training?"

"Enlightening."

He moved toward me in a smooth, slow manner. I'd seen that move before.

I watched this show on the Discovery Channel once where a lion walked into another pride to challenge the male leader and take over. His gait was sinuous, almost sultry, in his determined stride. I held Jude's gaze, refusing to be intimidated. Well, trying anyway. He stopped only a few inches from me, totally in my personal space, where he seemed to like to be.

"Enlightening how?"

"Why didn't you tell me that I was ageless?" I bit out the last word as if it were offensive.

"Because there are some things you are not ready for."

"How old are you?"

"Very."

"Ha. Something else I'm not ready for?"

"No. I just don't particularly like your attitude at the moment."

"Is there anything else you deem me not ready for?"

His eyes flickered down my body, slowing at my breasts and hips, and back up in a flash. "Yes. For now."

"You're infuriating, you know that? You're really good at giving orders, making demands, and dragging my ass to every hellhole in town, but you can't answer a simple question of mine."

"Not can't. I won't. At the moment."

I was fuming. My mind and mouth switched gears, continuing to attack. "Why didn't you warn me about Danté?"

I hadn't seen him move, but he was imperceptibly closer. I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, pressed only an inch from mine. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you didn't warn me demons could shape-shift into the appearance of other people. Like you."

"They can't shape-shift into just anyone. And I didn't know the one who was hunting you was that sick fuck."

He spat the last word with so much venom. His irises had gone super-black, and I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but some inner demon (pardon the pun) was poking me with a pitchfork and egging me on.

"You didn't tell me that he wanted me for his bride either. I mean, hell, he got to sample the goods and everything, and I didn't even know who it was that I was—"

His hands shot out, gripping my upper arms. I swear I saw flames licking around his shoulders, but I didn't budge. I couldn't if I tried. His fingers dug into my skin. There would definitely be bruises there tomorrow.

"What did you just say?"

I couldn't speak.

"Answer me."

His voice had dipped to that low, gravelly pitch.

Full of trepidation, I could barely whisper when I finally replied, "I thought he was you."

The storm raging in his eyes stilled. For a fraction of a moment, he held me there in his burning gaze. One hand wrapped the side of my throat, his fingers holding me in a firm but painless grip, his thumb stroking my pulse.

A whimpering sound escaped my lips before I whispered, "Jude."

He struggled with something, though I didn't know what. But I was caught in his feral gaze, both afraid and excited at the intensity of his tight expression.

Finally, his brow softened. His grip loosened. Yet there was an edge of danger flaring between us, igniting to a melting point.

The hand at my neck came up and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. Slow and steady. I felt as if I'd been burned where his finger traced along my skin. Pleasantly so.

The same arm suddenly snaked around my waist, his hand pressed at the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. I gasped. The other hand dropped my arm, gripping my hip instead. His thumb pressed against my pelvic bone. I resisted the urge to squirm. He dipped close to my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

"Hold on tight, Genevieve," he whispered, pressing me hard against his body. His lip grazed the sensitive shell of my ear. A warm tingle bloomed between my legs. "I wouldn't want to lose you in the Void."

"Wha-what?"

My brain had stopped functioning for a second. The exquisite torture of his body against mine had caused all circuits to misfire. Then I realized what he meant a split second before it happened.

All the air was sucked from my lungs. I wrapped my arms around his neck. A soft pressure seemed to fold me inward, pressing me into an enveloping darkness. We slipped fast, so fast, through a black void. Not all black. Unidentifiable images flitted in flashes of white and gray. I had no idea what they were. Feeling the onset of motion sickness, I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to Jude. I felt the pressure of his unrelenting grip. Caged in muscular arms, I felt safe, despite the unnerving sensation of weightlessness as we crashed through time and space.

A soft whoosh, pressure gone, and all was still. I realized then I was panting with my forehead pressed into the center of Jude's collarbone.

"Breathe, Genevieve," he said huskily, brushing a firm hand up my spine. "You're home now."

I opened my eyes. We were standing next to my bed in my apartment, my beige goose-down comforter half hanging off the bed. Some of my clothes were junked in a pile, including the last T-shirt of his I'd borrowed. I still clasped him around his neck, fingers laced at his nape, my body pressed intimately to his. I let go at once, stumbling back awkwardly.

A crooked smile spread across Jude's perfect face.

"Why don't you give me some warning next time?"

"I did. I told you to hold on." Still smirking.

"More than three seconds' warning, please," I said in a syrupy voice with a wide smile.

His smile smoldered, heat returning to his gaze. "Do you have class tomorrow?"

I shook my head, finding it hard to swallow when he looked at me like that. "I work at the dojo in the afternoon."

"What time?"

"My first class is at one o'clock."

A curt nod. "I'll meet you back here in the morning for training with Kat, then drop you off at the dojo."

I realized that he planned to escort me to every place I planned to go for like fucking forever. I rolled my eyes. "You know, Kat said my illusion casting is perfect. Maybe I don't need an escort everywhere I go."

"Mmm. I am sure you think that."

"Seriously, Jude, I can drive myself to your apartment."

"I am sure that you can. Nevertheless, I'll be here at eight in the morning. You have my number. Call me if you plan to leave the apartment."

I nodded, glancing at my shoes for no reason at all. He stepped closer. I fought the urge to retreat. He tipped my chin up with one finger.

"Genevieve," he said, the scary vibe back in his voice. "Call me if you plan to leave this apartment."

"I will."

Maybe.

While still staring into my eyes, he sifted out with a snap. That was a little disturbing, to put it mildly.

I sank down onto my bed, thinking of Malcolm. I'd promised him a movie date. Date. Yes, it would definitely be a date, and I was still trying to figure out how I felt about that.

I certainly didn't want Jude tagging along, watching from the corners, making Malcolm want to spit fire. The idea of Jude hovering over us made me extremely uncomfortable. And I liked Malcolm as a friend. Maybe more.

Jude wanted to control my every move. For my protection, of course, but Kat herself said I was more than able to shield myself from demons finding me. But, what if that demon prince came back?

"Ugh!"

Okay. I'd have to tell Jude, but I was too cowardly to do it in person. So it had to be another text.

Me: I'm meeting a friend for an 8:00 movie tonight at the theater on Prytania.

Jude: A friend?

Me: Yes. Please be discreet, if you come.

A lengthy pause as I turned on the hot water in the shower. Finally, my phone bleeped again.

Jude: I'll be there. You won't see me.

I totally did not get a smiley face this time. "Okay, then. That's sort of encouraging and disturbing."

Taking a deep breath, I headed into the shower to get ready for my date.