Sealed in Sin (16 page)

I crossed my arms. “Demons don’t count.”

“I’m not talking about demons.” He stepped closer, but not too close, his expression grave under the moonlight. “I’m talking about innocent lives.”

I flinched. A hidden truth lay there in his words. Doubt twisted my gut.

“You’re lying.” My protest felt hollow.

“Am I? Why don’t you ask him?” He shook his head and closed his eyes a moment before fixing me with a sincere expression. “I could show you.” He reached out a hand.

“
No.
” I backed away. “Do
not
touch me again.” It was only then that it occurred to me he could share visions with me since he gave me some of himself with the power to sift. Whatever memory he held of Jude, I couldn’t handle it at the moment. I still trembled from the emotions rioting through my frame. Besides, I owed it to Jude to let him explain it to me himself, if there was any truth to Thomas’s accusations. Whatever Thomas had to say now came from his own ulterior motive, to have me for himself.

I hugged myself, shivering in the cold, trying to erase the sensation of his mouth on my skin. “I can’t believe what you did.”
What we did.

“Why should I not?” He ambled closer, making no sign to reach out to me. “I had to show you the inherent passion between us. You wouldn’t accept my words. You’d only believe it if you felt it for yourself.”

Mouth agape, I stared at him, stunned stupid for a few seconds. “Not even Jude took the liberties you just did. Don’t you know the rules for a Vessel?
Untainted
, Thomas. You jeopardized my safety.”

He had the sense to look ashamed. For a second. “But now you have the power to sift. Don’t you understand? Your Vessel power is growing exponentially. Soon, you’ll be fully awakened, and because you can sift, no one will be able to touch you without permission. You’ll always have the power to escape your enemies no matter what. Because
I
gave you that power.”

I’d not heard the haughty note in Thomas’s voice before. He was proud of what he’d done.

“I’m sure Jude will be happy for me. That is, if he ever forgives me.”

“Forget Jude!” I flinched. His desperation mounted, though he made no attempt to touch me. Tone much softer, he implored, “I can give you more.”

“I’m not interested in what you can give me.”

“Genevieve.” He combed one hand through his hair in frustration, lifting his eyes to the sky before blurting with deep conviction, “I love you.”

I froze. The slump of his shoulders, one hand lifted as if he longed to draw me to him, the lines of sadness slanting his expression—all this compelled me to believe him completely sincere.

I shook my head. “You don’t even know me.”

“I do.” He took another step closer. I let him. “You forget”—heartbreak in his voice—“I’ve watched over you your whole life. I saw you swing in the backyard with your father, ride your first bike, win your first soccer game. I watched over you when your heart broke when your mother died, when adolescence made you feel awkward and unsure…” He raised a tentative hand and brushed a wisp of hair out of my face. “When you studied alone at night, when you cried on your mother’s birthday because she wasn’t there, when no one else was there to see the heartbreak you suffered”—he gazed down, swallowing hard—“I was. I felt all the anguish with you. I couldn’t help but love you. I wish…I wish you would give me a chance to show you our love would be true and lasting. What we could be together.”

I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes, willing away the turmoil he stirred inside me. “Thomas, I barely know you. I can’t—”

“Just promise me you’ll consider it…consider me.”

Jude’s dark gaze and powerful pull snapped me out of any delusions, out of any possibility of giving Thomas false promises. I’d just made a terrible mistake, allowing my infatuation to move beyond thoughts into a physical realm that could tear my world apart. I wouldn’t, couldn’t let this go on a second longer. Nor could I allow Thomas to believe there would ever be any man but Jude who could own my heart.

“I’m sorry, Thomas.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what just happened. That’s not like me.”

“I think it is.” His expression cooled to one revealing a myriad of emotions—confidence, anger, determination, but nothing tender, nothing close to what he vowed he felt for me.

“No,” I said, shaking my head and stepping away from him. “Jude holds my heart. No one else.”

Closing my eyes to the wave of blistering cold emanating from him, I locked on an image of the corridor of the Majestic Theatre. A tingling, sucking sensation, then I fell through the Void alone, snapping on solid ground right outside our box seats, where I’d just let Thomas kiss and touch me in ways Jude hadn’t even done yet. I swallowed the wave of shame threatening to break me in two, forcing myself to appear natural, and stepped into the box. I sat just as the Phantom wailed his lament. Christine was gone. The music of the night was over.

When the curtain dropped and the crowd roared to its feet, Mindy turned to me with tears streaming down her face. “I can’t believe you missed the end! It was so beautiful.” She beamed.

Applause and cheers filled the theatre as actors took their bows. Christine, lovely and glorious, smiled on as Raoul and the Phantom took their gracious bows beside her. I played my part, clapping alongside the rest, wishing tonight had all been an act on stage I could pretend wasn’t real, had never happened. True tragedy wasn’t beautiful at all, leaving even the object of unrequited love feeling empty, hollow, sad. Lost.

As we shuffled toward the exit, my phone vibrated in my clutch. I pulled it out, pulse pounding.

Jude:
Couldn’t get away tonight. I’ll pick you up at the airport tomorrow.

Tomorrow. I’d have to confront Jude with Thomas’s accusation. I’d also have to be honest about what I’d done.

And hope he’d forgive me.

Chapter Seventeen

He was waiting for me at baggage claim. I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I’d managed to drink an ice coffee before my flight from Newark, but that was all I could manage to keep down. Mindy was staying on an extra week with her mom, so I flew home alone. Never had I wished more than to have Mindy’s prattling tongue on the long flight to lighten my mood.

He stood near the conveyer belt with my suitcase in hand. In jeans, charcoal T-shirt, black jacket and staggering good looks, he made my heart skitter faster. This was nothing new. Except the reason my heart threatened to beat right out of my chest now had more to do with the fact that I feared he could see the guilt written on my face, skyrocketing my anxiety. There was still the issue of confronting him about Thomas’s accusation—one I sensed rang with truth, whether I wanted to accept it or not.

He homed in on me as I drew closer, like the predator he was. I tipped my chin a little higher as I always did when I was in deep shit, plastering on my air of bravado to pretend nothing could harm me. Key word,
pretend
. We hadn’t seen each other since he’d learned about Thomas, since he’d gone on an expedition to discover all he could about him, since I’d allowed the angel in question to touch me in ways Jude never had. I swallowed the interfering thoughts of Thomas’s hands on my body, needing to wipe the memory from my expression.

I stopped in front of Jude, hiking my bag higher on my shoulder. His heavy gaze threatened to undo me, observing too closely as he always did. “Long flight.”

Not a question. The effects of a sleepless night and an anxiety-laden day were written all over my face. “Yes.”

He examined me closer, making me fear I might come completely unhinged before he released me from his keen observation. But then his free hand engulfed mine, gripping hard, and he led me through the door to the parking lot. He loaded my suitcase in the trunk of Kat’s black Audi, the one she loaned him whenever he needed more than his motorcycle to get around town. We hadn’t been in a car together since before I knew about sifting. Sifting.
Shit!
How was I going to tell him about my new power without him flipping out?

Zooming down Veterans Boulevard and back onto the interstate, I continued to stare out the window. The tension filling the small confines of the car stretched me to breaking. His voice actually made me jump.

“Nervous?”

“What?” I jerked around to face him.

Giving me a sidelong glance before careening between two eighteen-wheelers into the far lane like he was taking a leisurely Sunday stroll, he said, “If my meeting your father gives you this much anxiety, then I don’t have to. We can do it some other time.”

Oh, yeah. Not that it had completely slipped my mind, but it had become low on my priority list of things to worry about. At least I had a cover for my code-red stress levels. Dad had said we could put off our dinner arrangements if I had jet lag, but honestly, I needed time to build courage for the confession coming later. Enduring a casual dinner with jet lag between the two men in my life, so they could finally meet and so I could postpone imminent doom was fine by me.

“No. It’s fine. Just don’t be…” I glanced at him, realizing there was no way for him to tone down his bad-ass hunter vibe.

He slanted a smug expression in my direction. “Yes?”

“Nothing.” I faced forward, tucking my hands between my legs to keep them from trembling.

He made no remark, exiting and heading toward City Park. We were within a mile or two when I finally found the courage to ask, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

No answer. Watching the road, square jaw clenched, he replied as we turned onto my father’s street. “We’ll discuss it later.”

Not quite sure I’d make it through dinner and polite chitchat without throwing up, I blew out a quick breath and replied, “Okay.”

As we pulled into the drive, I half expected Erik, a family friend, to be parked and waiting to meet the boyfriend alongside my dad. He’d been a brother to me since shortly after my mother’s death and always seemed to be hanging around. Apparently, Dad wanted to fly solo on this mission.

Jude followed me through the wrought-iron gate to the back door. Standing in the kitchen, beer in hand, Dad gazed out into the yard at nothing in particular. He turned when he heard us walk in. I smiled and launched into his arms.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He chuckled, squeezing me into a one-arm hug. “Somebody missed me.”

He had no idea. Being in my father’s arms where I’d learned unconditional love time and time again helped me bury some of the rising fear of what was to come later tonight with the man behind me. Dad kissed me on the forehead and swiveled his gaze to Jude, his eyes narrowing instantly. He was assessing, sizing him up. Schooled into casual politeness, his expression could’ve meant approval or disapproval. I wouldn’t know until he told me later.

“Dad, this is Jude Delacroix.”

Jude extended his hand and shook my father’s. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Dad replied, shaking his hand in a tight grip. At some point, the pissing contest subsided and they withdrew at the same time. “I wish I could say I’ve heard all about you, but it seems Gen has been keeping you a secret.”

Jude’s dark gaze flickered to me. “She does like to keep things to herself.”

On that true characterization, I spun toward the fridge, avoiding eye contact. “How about a beer?” Without waiting for an answer, I popped the caps on two Heinekens and handed Jude one.

“Thank you.” He took the longneck, shifting his body closer to mine against the counter, his heavy gaze flicking from me back to my father.

The cool, even tone of Jude’s voice wasn’t what had me on edge. The man held his own no matter who he stood up against, including an overprotective father who’d terrified every boy/dude/guy I’d ever deemed worthy to cross the threshold of this house. It was Jude’s unyielding, steady tone accompanying a similar steely gaze that made my insides flip-flop with queasiness. His manner screamed of a proprietary, possessive hold, and though my dad could never call him out as impolite in any possible way, the air in the room pressed closer.

Then it hit me. There was one dominant male in this room, and it wasn’t my father. A truth I would’ve known if I’d ever taken two seconds to consider the idea. I’d never had to. Dad ruled this world, the one of hearth and home, and Jude ruled the other, the one where demons sought to possess and kill me at every turn. In reality, Jude ruled both, every circle that I revolved in. I might be his moon in the dark, but he was my entire cosmos—stars, air and gravity all rolled into one—surrounding me with a shield of flickering flame, the air I needed to breathe, pulling me to the earth and grounding me wherever he stood. My breath hitched at the sudden realization. He held my gaze, taking a sip of his beer in a slow, measured movement, as if he knew what had just dawned on me. If he understood me this well, then he also realized my anxiety about tonight had more to do with what I needed to confess to him than him meeting my father.

“Shall we go outside?” Dad asked. He walked to the fridge and pulled out a platter of marinating, plastic-wrapped rib eyes.

Breaking away from Jude’s lock on me, I stepped out the French doors onto the deck. I tilted back my beer, taking three huge gulps, needing some liquid courage to make it through dinner.

Dad tossed the steaks on the preheated grill. Jude peered around the yard, taking in the sight of my childhood home. He’d been here before, that day he’d sifted into my mother’s art gallery and sent me into a fury. He’d also cast a protection spell, which I’m sure he did by cover of night. This was the first time he’d stood here with me and my dad as a welcome guest, and in some insane way, he fit in.

“So, Jude, tell me, what is it that you do for a living?”

Jude swiveled to engage my father. “I acquire, inspect and authenticate rare weapons for museums and private collectors.”

Wait. What? Did he really? I challenged him with a questioning look. He ignored my puzzlement with a smirk. He must’ve had this lie already planned. Right?

“Oh really? How interesting.” Dad gave him a once-over, considering him more closely. “That must be difficult to manage.”

“How so?”

“I mean that it can’t be very steady work. It must be difficult to balance your finances with a fluctuating income.”

Jesus, Dad. Why don’t you go for the jugular? I can’t believe he’d just used code for
you don’t make enough money to date my daughter.
Jude took it all in stride.

“I have contracts with local as well as international museums, including the Louvre in Paris. Private collectors pay a significant sum for acquiring and authenticating artifacts for their collections. I assure you, the circulation is enough to keep me afloat.”

His smile before he tipped back his beer said it all. It more than kept him afloat. How did I not know this about him? Yes, he owned rare swords and daggers of all kinds. And, as I recall, he had a PhD with a concentration in historical weapons, but still, it had never occurred to me that as a hunter, he’d have to earn a living. His house on Dauphines with its fine furnishings wouldn’t come cheap.

Dad flipped the steaks with a satisfying sizzle. “How do you like your rib eye, Jude?”

“Rare,” came the unequivocal response. Carnivore to the core.

By some miracle, my dad and Jude fell into a companionable conversation when the discussion swiveled to the history of battle and martial arts. Jude knew a thing or two about medieval swordplay and jousting, as well as the Japanese samurai. Go figure. By the time we’d finished dinner and I was clearing the plates, Dad was completely mesmerized by a story Jude retold of an eighty-year-old retired baseball player who’d nearly been swindled out of a half a million dollars for a fake sword allegedly belonging to Yamashita, a World War II Japanese general in the Imperial Army.

“How did you know it was a fake?” asked Dad, leaning forward, hands clasped on the table.

“Because the real sword of Yamashita was sitting in the West Point Military Museum,” replied Jude with a wry grin. “I was the one to authenticate it.”

With a stifled yawn, I stood and took my glass to the sink, coming to terms with my worlds colliding, and, rather than explode into tiny pieces, they’d fit together rather nicely.

“Better call it a night,” said Dad. “I’m sure Gen is worn out from the trip.”

I didn’t argue. I was exhausted.

“I’ll get your jacket,” said Jude, stepping into the living room where I’d draped it over the sofa earlier.

“Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them.” Dad stood and met me halfway, pulling me into one of his bear hugs. In a lower tone, he said, “He seems a bit…mature. But I don’t
dis
like him.”

“Hmph. If I judged by the monopolization of the dinner conversation, I’d say you adored him. Do you want to date him?”

A hearty chuckle rumbled from his chest. Keeping one arm over my shoulder, he walked me toward the door where Jude shrugged into his own jacket.

“You’ve always been an old soul, sweetheart. With better judgment than me most of the time.” With a peck on my forehead, he whispered, “If he’s the one you want, I’ll support you.”

Yes, he was the one I wanted. But would he have me after I told him about Thomas?

We arrived at the door. Jude was transfixed by a photograph of my mother and me our last Halloween, when we lived in Atlanta. We’d both dressed as witches, complete with black wigs, green face paint and warty noses. Our blue eyes glittered in the camera’s flash, perfect mirrors of each other.

“That’s my mom. Right before we moved here.”

He smiled, avoiding eye contact. “I know.” After helping me into my jacket, he shook my father’s hand like they were old friends.

Dad opened the front door for us to walk out. “I hope you’ll help out at the dojo this week, sweetheart. Erik has been overloaded in your absence.”

“Of course, Dad. I’ll be back on schedule this week.” The truth was I’d been slacking more than a little in work and in school. College classes and teaching karate had become less important ever since the first demon had tried to kill me in a back alley.

Back in the car, we were off again. Alone. Once more, silence reigned for several minutes.

“I didn’t know you were an antique weapons dealer.”

“You never asked.”

True. I’d always been so absorbed in my own problems, in defending and protecting myself. Self-preservation had dominated most of my time these days. I wondered how well I truly knew Jude.

“Did you really authenticate the Japanese general’s sword at West Point?”

“Yes. What I didn’t divulge to your father was that had happened back in 1947 after General MacArthur donated the sword to the museum. That might’ve been more difficult to explain.”

“I’d say it would,” I agreed, forcing a smile.

Dinner had been nice. More than nice. Jude had been charming, as much as one can be with his pragmatic storytelling and blunt view of the world. I’d fallen into a state of calm after the initial meeting and greeting, enjoying a good meal, a few beers, and interesting, albeit unconventional, conversation. But now, alone again, the dangerous edge cut between us as before. He had something to say, and he knew I did too. His hands tightening on the steering wheel was the only warning I received.

“Genevieve. This guardian angel, Thomas, hasn’t reported to his superior in nearly a decade.”

I locked on Jude’s profile, intermittently coming into view as we passed under the streetlights.

“What does that mean?”

He pulled to a stop at a red light. “It means he’s no longer working for them.” He waved a hand heavenward, capturing my rapt attention with steel in his voice, belying his calm posture. “He’s made himself known to you for another reason”—eyes dropping to my lips—“and I know what that reason must be.”

Heart in my throat, I forced myself to speak. “What reason?” As if I didn’t know.

The light turned green, pulling his attention back to the road. But that didn’t fool me for a minute. He was attuned to my every breath.