Sealed in Sin (19 page)

“Why?” I asked.

“Because,” said George, “if the demon princes are working together, then they know the Great War is definitely near. We may not know what the lost prophecy holds, but it has always been known that Flamma of Dark will unite against Flamma of Light for the Great War.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Kat. “We never could keep a hold of Gorham or Razor in New York to get intel from them. Should we try to apprehend them again?”

George looked at Kat, and I saw his gaze soften for a fleeting second. “Don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger, Katherine. You and Dorian just watch them and let us know what you discover. I’ll alert the hunters on the west coast and abroad to do the same. I’ll meet with you again in a week’s time.”

George held Katherine’s gaze, then sifted out in complete silence. Kat sifted away in a whirl of wind, leaving Jude and me alone in the quiet courtyard. Not even the soothing sound of trickling water to break the silence since the fountain had been smashed by the fury last night.

I cleared my throat. “I guess Kat thought I’d be staying here tonight.”

“I’ll take you back to your apartment,” he said, then shook his head with a bitter laugh. “I suppose you can sift yourself back to your apartment, can’t you?”

“Jude, I need to talk to you.”

He rubbed his scruffy jaw. He looked more unkempt than I’d ever seen him, dark circles beneath his eyes. I gritted my teeth against the guilt threatening to drown me, knowing I was responsible for his present miserable state.

“I need a drink.” He walked past me and into the house.

I followed him up the stairs, though he hadn’t invited me in. I heard him open a cabinet in the kitchen. By the time I got there, he was pouring a glass of Talisker Scottish whiskey. As soon as his eyes landed on me, he knocked back the tumbler with one gulp. I noticed another empty bottle of the stuff on the living room coffee table.
Shit.

“Um, I need to talk to you.”

“So you said.” He poured a second glass. “Go ahead. Talk.” Then downed it and poured a third.

“Jude, should you be drinking so much with that fury here last night?” The scathing look he shot me made me shiver. “I mean, what if it comes back?”

“Worried about me? So kind of you. Or maybe you’re more worried about yourself. That I won’t be sober enough to do my job as your protector. Perhaps I’m not good enough for that anymore,” he snapped with bitterness. His accusation drew out in the silence, that I’d replaced him with Thomas. He deserved to be angry, so I bit my tongue and didn’t react to his spite. His face was shadowed by the afternoon light filtering through the kitchen window behind him. “Don’t worry,” he growled low. “I’ve cast extensive protection spells around the entire block.” He knocked back the third tumbler.

“Okay, I’ll talk fast before you’re too drunk to even hear what I have to say.”

He grunted a sort of laugh, shaking his head at me. “More pretty words for me? Terrific. Can’t wait to hear them.” He brushed past me with his glass in one hand and the bottle of whiskey in the other. Plopping down heavily onto his sofa, he poured another drink and wedged the now half-empty bottle of Scotch between his legs. He threw one arm along the sofa back and tipped his glass up to me. “Cheers. To”—he considered a moment, a wide smile creasing his face—“to dreams.”

Ouch. I sat down gingerly in the chair next to him, his gaze steady despite the fifty-year-old whiskey swimming in his veins.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve heard this already. If that’s all, I’ll be in my training room.” He leaned forward to stand.

“Just give me a fucking minute!” I stood and shoved his shoulders back so he sat again.

“Ahh, there she is, my feisty girl.” He grinned. “I much prefer her to the quiet, docile one.”

“Just shut up and stay seated for one damn minute.”

He made a show of being cooperative, even offering me a bow, as well as he could in his seated, slouched position. “I’m at your service.”

“All right. So I won’t apologize again. I know what I did was unforgiveable.” He remained silent, watching, waiting. “You said it’s what we do that proves who we are and what we really want.”

“Something along those lines.” He took a sip but didn’t down it all at once this time.

“So I know a way to prove that…that I love you.” I had his attention now. I clasped my hands tight in my lap, my mouth gone dry. “I’m not sure how one does this properly…”

He offered me his glass of whiskey, which I found strangely charming. I took it and gulped. Liquid fire burned down my throat. I coughed violently.

An icy smile cracked his face before melting back into a brooding frown. “It’s got a little kick.” He took the glass back.

“That might not have helped,” I said, rubbing my throat, as if I could stop the burning. I inhaled a deep breath. “As I was saying, I’ve been thinking for a while of a way to prove how I feel, and honestly, there’s only one way.”

He tilted the glass back again to finish it off. Having his heavy gaze off me for one second gave me the courage to finally just blurt it out. “Marry me.”

Jude choked and spat the whiskey, spraying my arm in the process. He stared at me in shock. My heart drummed faster under his refusal to respond.

“Are you serious?” he finally asked, incredulous.

I nodded tightly. “Yes. I want you to, I mean, I was wondering, hoping you’d marry me.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous, thinking he’d jump at the chance. Maybe I’d fucked things up so royally that he didn’t want me anymore. Blood drained from my face, making me feel queasy at the thought. Was I too late? Did that look on his face mean disgust?

He still didn’t move, frozen in place with his empty glass in hand. Did I give him a stroke? What the hell?

“Um, I can see that maybe I was a little crazy to think you’d want to.” A nervous laugh escaped me as I stood up. “I’ll just be leaving now, so—”

Lightning swift, he was on his feet, dropping the glass to the rug and gripping both my arms in a vise before I could sift away. His jaw hard, brow furrowed, and mouth a tight, brutal line, he bore into me with a marrow-melting gaze. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” His tone grated against my skin.

“Yes. Of course, I am,” I whispered, breathless at the rage vibrating from him.

“You can’t just toss marriage around like it’s nothing,” he said with cutting disdain. “I understand that you come from an age where marriage is worth no more than the paper that it’s pledged upon, but it’s not an arbitrary binding to use to fix your problems. It isn’t temporary, not in my mind anyway. In my time, marriage meant forever.”

“I know!” I wriggled, trying to break his grip, as if I could. He only tightened his hold. “I don’t think of marriage as
nothing
. I come from a home where it meant everything! Even as my mother became violent in her madness, pushing my father away, rejecting me, he still loved her. He still stood by her. Even now, he refuses to marry or even look at another woman, because she was his only love.” I was sobbing now, hot tears pouring with my heated words. “That’s what I want. The life I’d once envisioned for myself is over. The only future that makes any sense now, the only place I feel safe, the only thing I want in this whole goddamn world is
you
!”

I choked on a sob, squeezing my eyes shut, unable to bear his burning gaze any longer, wishing I could disappear. But I wouldn’t sift. I wouldn’t run away. If he wanted to tell me to fuck off and that I’d ruined everything, then I’d stay and take it. It was the least I could do, allow him to unleash his biting wrath on me as I deserved.

He loosened his grip but didn’t push me away. Rather, he pulled me into his arms, embracing me with fierce possessiveness, burying his face in my hair, cradling me close. More tears came.

“Genevieve,” he whispered—jagged and raw. “I never thought… I didn’t imagine you’d ever want that. With me.”

“Of course, I do, you idiot.” I clenched my fists in the back of his shirt, my mouth muffled against his chest. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but there is no one else for me. You have to know that. There never will be. I’m just”—I hiccoughed a short sob—“I’m just so fucking sorry for what I did.” My voice dropped to a desperate plea. “You have to believe me.”

Hands on my waist in a tight grip, he pulled away, fixing me with his dark gaze. I let him look his fill and try to find some fault or lie. He wouldn’t, because everything I said was true. No matter my fleeting infatuation, or whatever the hell it was with Thomas, he was nothing next to Jude. A dim flame next to a burning inferno, a small ripple next to a tidal wave, a passing wind next to the fiercest gale.

“What about your angel?”

“I don’t need a second guardian. If he ever shows his face again, I’ll tell him so.”

As the declaration that I would divorce myself from Thomas sank in, Jude lifted one of his hands and tucked a stray lock behind my ear. I inhaled a deep breath, finally calm. Mostly. He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek, wiping away a trail of tears. I didn’t know how much I ached for his touch till this moment, the emotion threatening to overwhelm me again. I blinked back the new tears wanting to spill, regaining some sort of composure.

“Genevieve, I want you to be sure.”

“I am sure. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“You have?” he asked, baffled.

I laughed. “Yes, damn it. I just didn’t know how serious you were about us, about me.”

His fingers slid under my hair, wrapping my nape. He pressed a burning kiss to my lips, consuming me with desperate need, stroking his tongue along mine till I forgot everything else. I melted against him as the slow burn of desire ignited. When I pressed my body more urgently against his, curling my fingers into his shirt, clutching him tighter, he broke apart with a hiss.

I nipped his bottom lip. “So will you marry me, Jude Delacroix? You haven’t given me an answer.” I pressed my pelvis against the hard ridge in his jeans.

He groaned. “Not fair.”

“Yes or no?”

“If you are sure—”

“I am.”

“And you understand this is forever—”

“I do.”

“Then damn the rest of the world to hell,” he growled, “I will marry you.”

Slanting his lips over mine, he took me as a man who knows his right, who knows the woman in his arms was only ever meant for his mouth, his hands, his heart, his soul. I quivered with the realization that soon we could finally take our passion where it had been leading us since the second we met on that dance floor in Tartarus on my twentieth birthday. Sex within marriage wouldn’t break the golden rule for Vessels. The mere thought of him inside me made my insides melt.

I whispered against his lips, “When? How soon?”

He pulled away with a pained expression marking his face. “I know someone, a priest. He’ll do it quickly, if that’s what you want. Unless you want more time…”

“No. Soon is better.”

He grinned. I laughed.

Pressing a softer kiss to my lips, tongue tracing the seam, he brushed his lips in a torturous, slow sweep. “Then soon it is.”

Chapter Twenty

“Well, that was a nightmare.” Mary and I had been study buddies since our freshmen year when we realized we were both English majors. We’d shared at least one class every semester since. As we exited Professor Minga’s Latin final together, she blew out an exasperated breath, her long bangs flying to the side.

“It was tough,” I agreed, “but not nearly as bad as Bennett’s will be.”

She snorted. “Leave it to Bennett to schedule his final on the last freaking day possible before the break. I swear, I think that a-hole lives to torture his students.”

“Hmph. Trust me. He does.”

We walked through the commons area, leaves whirling across the pavement. A gaggle of sorority girls in baby-pink sweatshirts tromped en masse from one building to the next, hanging holly-and-evergreen wreaths with pink bows on each door. They were hanging the third by the time we crossed out of the quad.

“Say, Gen. You seen Malcolm lately? He hasn’t wanted to do study group anymore.” She arched a thin brow at me. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with why you’ve skipped so much of Bennett’s class, would it?”

I grimaced. “Well, yeah. I kind of did something stupid.”

“Don’t we all. What did you do—date him and dump him?”

I heaved my backpack higher on my shoulder. “Um, yeah. Pretty much.”

“Ouch.” Mary shoved me with her shoulder, hitting me mid-arm since she was on the petite side.

I still had residual guilt for using Malcolm back in September. I’d thought he would make good boyfriend material, seeing as he was such a great friend. That was, of course, before Jude had erased the thought of any man staking a claim on me other than himself. Malcolm had avoided me, and that was fine by me. One less thing for me to worry about.

“Don’t worry about it. He’ll survive. But you better study your ass off for Bennett’s final.”

“Seeing as he’s given us two freaking weeks to prepare, I should have ample time.” Of course, I withheld the fact that I would be on my honeymoon soon and might be slightly distracted.

My honeymoon.

If Professor Bennett were standing in front of me now, I’d kiss his pompous ass. Giving us a long break allowed me to convince Jude we should get married now and not wait until after finals. Even after I thought I’d been quite clear that I was completely and totally sure about wanting to marry him, he still wanted me to have the time to consider it carefully and change my mind if I decided it was too big a step. Damn the man. Even this morning, before I left his house for class, he held me close and whispered in my ear,
“You can change your mind. But if you mean to marry me, meet me here promptly at 3:00. I’ll be waiting for you.”
I pecked him on the lips and sifted out without an answer. He’d find out soon enough how ready I was.

“Hey.” Mary snapped her fingers in front of me. “Where’d you go? Bennett’s final is nothing to smile about, you know.”

“What? Oh yeah.” I returned from my wayward thoughts. I seriously hoped I managed a decent grade on the Latin final. I found myself wandering away three times while taking it. Kind of hard to focus on Herodotus and Cicero when Jude’s whispered words kept floating through my mind. “Just glad the semester will be over soon.” So I could focus on better things.

“So what other finals do you have left?”

“None,” I said with a satisfying smile. “Both my Psychology and Western Civ instructors made all those with a 3.0 in the class exempt from the finals.”

“Lucky you,” she said, parting ways near the parking lot. “Enjoy your little hiatus before the ax falls in two weeks.” She made a swinging motion across her neck.

I waved with a laugh. “I plan to.” She had no idea.

I meandered farther into the campus lot where I usually parked my car until she was out of sight. I peered in all directions. The lot was empty. I sifted into my bedroom, having decided I adored this
mode of transportation
, as Jude would call it. My VS channeled the power as if I’d always had this gift, to move between time and space, as if I always meant to do this. In a way, I was.

I chunked my backpack in the closet, prepared to ignore anything to do with school for a full week. My suitcase still lay open on the bed as I’d left it this morning. A quiver of anticipation trembled through me.

“Deep breath in,” I whispered to myself. “Mindy?” I called out. “You here?”

No answer. I’d already lied to Mindy, telling her I was going away on a little vacation abroad with Jude to meet his family. And, of course, I’d asked her to cover for me with Dad, who thought I’d be holed up in my apartment or the campus library studying for finals for a while.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Jude had told me we would be traveling abroad. When Mindy had asked for details, I had none, telling her southern France, just to give her an answer. In truth, I had no idea where we were going. He wouldn’t tell me.

A pang of guilt sank in my stomach like a stone when I realized I was doing this without the consent or presence of my dad. Without my best friend, who would’ve been my maid of honor had circumstances been different. I understood the reasons why I couldn’t share this wedding with those I loved, but it hurt nonetheless.

Shaking off sad thoughts, I glanced at my digital clock, reading 1:30. I jumped in the shower and scrubbed myself clean with my favorite jasmine wash, shaving pretty much everything. As I pulled the razor along my calves in brisk strokes, I thought fleetingly of Thomas. Though I was relieved beyond belief that he hadn’t shown up, I still wondered what he was thinking, doing. I suppose the finality of my rejection was enough to keep him at a distance for a while. Good. Because I had no idea what I’d say when he finally made his next appearance. Though Jude avoided all conversation surrounding Thomas, I knew he still sought to meet the angel face-to-face. And no telling what horrors would come out of that confrontation. I shivered, and not in a good way.

I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. After drying and wrapping a towel around my head, I slipped into my red robe on the back of the door. While brushing my teeth, I glanced at my suitcase, hoping I’d packed well enough. Jude had told me to pack for cold weather. I had an inkling where we’d be honeymooning and smiled at the thought.

After smoothing lotion onto my skin, I applied my makeup more carefully than usual, highlighting my pale blue eyes with shades of amber and gold. I braided separate strands of my dark hair, twisting and pinning it into a low bun at my nape. Loose tendrils fell by my temples. I hooked on my cream-colored, strapless corset and matching panties, then pulled my dress from the closet.

That day in New York when I left MoMA feeling as if something ominous pressed down upon me, I walked past a store and stopped. In the window was this dress, knee-length in flowing chiffon of pale blue. Sleeveless, the chiffon rippled in natural waves, gathered in a high collar around the throat and cinched at the waist with a woven belt. So lovely—reminding me of Monet’s painting, of the pale pastels where sky met water and the world was alive with light. I walked into the store and bought one in my size, having never in my life done such a thing. I didn’t know why. Until now.

I stared at the dress in my hand, biting my lip, hoping it would do. I slipped into it and zipped it up in the back, buttoning the three buttons at the nape, then pulled on the cream cashmere cardigan with pearl buttons I’d borrowed from Mindy. Though she was more petite than I was, the cardigan hit shorter at the waist. Perfect for this dress. I slipped on the dusky blue heels, then finally picked up the red velvet box sitting on my bed. I opened it and ran the pad of my finger over the strand of pearls. I’d sifted into my dad’s house yesterday and gotten them from my jewelry box. I’d never worn them. They were my mother’s wedding pearls. With a deep breath, I pulled them out and cinched the clasp, then put on the matching earrings. Finally, I stepped up to the mirror, scanning my attire, hardly recognizing myself. Gone was the Vessel girl, dressed to hunt and kill demons.

I touched my fingers to the pearls. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” I gave myself a nod, hoping Jude liked what he saw. Nerves suddenly screaming through my body, it finally hit me what I would soon be.

“Mrs. Jude Delacroix.”

My heart clenched, realizing my dad wouldn’t be walking me down the aisle. I couldn’t even tell him. Or Mindy. They wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t accept the fact that I wanted to marry a man I’d known for such a short time. And I could never explain all the reasons why I wanted to marry now, as opposed to planning a glitzy, triple-decker-cake wedding at the end of a long engagement. The idea of Jude at the center of a boisterous reception with aunts and uncles and cousins pounding him on the back was ludicrous. No. This was the best way. We had no idea how long we had before the world as we knew it would change forever. The war was coming. It could be weeks or months, but even George agreed it would be no more than a year.

“Okay, then.”

I zipped my suitcase, took a deep breath and sifted right outside Jude’s alcove. The protection wards he cast around his home were so thick now no one could sift directly in but him. I had to walk through, but Flamma of Dark wouldn’t even be able to do that, just like Danté had kept him out of his lair in the underworld.

As I made my way through the arched alcove, my clipped walk on the brick pavement mirrored my hammering heartbeat. I stepped through the wrought-iron gate and froze. Jude stood near the now-broken fountain. Hands in the pockets of a finely tailored black-on-black tuxedo, he was deep in thought. His profile—legs apart, back straight, shoulders relaxed, head bent—spoke of a man who knew his strength and the power he wielded over others. A silhouette of the finest lines against the gray stone of the courtyard captivated me, made me breathless at the sight of him. This man, this extraordinary, exquisite man…was mine.

He turned, eyes widening at the sight of me. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The moment stretched as he raked me with his dark, fiery gaze. After what felt like forever, he walked toward me with heavy steps, his shoes echoing in the small courtyard. He lifted one hand, wrapping my neck and brushing my pulse point with his thumb. “You bring me to my knees, woman.”

I exhaled a deep breath and tried to smile, faltering. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He chuckled. “Not for me. It’s rather terrible, actually.” He leaned in, brushing a featherlight kiss to my lips. “I’m doomed.” He took the suitcase from my hands and, with a bone-melting smile, said, “I’ll be right back.”

He sifted out with an electric crack. Within no time, he sifted back, nearly knocking me over with a blast of wind in his wake. He smelled familiar, of smoky peat. I smiled, knowing where my suitcase had been delivered.

He clasped my hand, twining his fingers through mine, grinning like a boy on Christmas morning. Wrapping his other hand around my waist, he whispered low, “You are so beautiful…you take my breath away.”

I smoothed a hand over his lapel, pretending my heart didn’t skip a few beats. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

With a deep chuckle, he sifted us out. Ghostly shapes blurred by for several moments as winds of the Void suctioned my dress and hair. I clung to Jude, loving the feel of him grounding me as we swirled in a longer trip through the Void, meaning we traveled far from home. We landed on the doorstep of a church. An old church.

It was pitch-dark but for slivers of light glowing from the pointed Gothic windows.

“Where are we?”

Jude guided me toward the door. “Sussex. St. Mary’s.”

England again. It must be somewhere around nine o’clock if I judged correctly from our last visit to the UK. A bit disorienting, since I’d just stepped from a sunlit courtyard. “So, you know a priest here?”

He held the door open. “Yes. He’s a sentinel. He’s been serving Flamma of Light for quite a long time.”

The night we were at Glastonbury Abbey with the newly unfused human host, he’d said something to George about knowing a priest in a monastery. “He helped you with Simon, didn’t he?” Jude nodded. “Are sentinels ageless? Like us?” I couldn’t help but ask, stepping into the quiet vestibule. Jude had stopped aging when he’d become a Dominus Daemonum. Though he’d never told me the exact age, he appeared to be in his late twenties, early thirties. I wondered how long before I’d be fully awakened as a Vessel, for that would be the last day I aged. Physically, anyway.

“They are,” said Jude, bringing me back to my question. “Father Clementine has had to move around over the years.”

As we walked into the candlelit church, I marveled at the ribbed vaulting and Gothic arches, whispering, “This place is old.”

“Quite.”

Hand in hand, we walked up the nave toward the front, where a short priest in a black cassock milled around the altar table. When we reached the steps, he ambled around and waved us up. “Come, come.”

Heart in my throat, I snuck a glance at Jude, who held the most serene expression on his face, smile tipping his beautiful mouth up in the corners. A look I saw rarely.

Standing a foot shorter than me, the balding man with kind blue eyes reached for my hands. I put mine in his. “Well, now. Isn’t she just lovely?” He raised his bushy black brows, his British accent thick and clipped. “You must be Genevieve.”

“I am.” I smiled.

“You’re shining so bright, my dear. Well done, Jude.”

I quirked a questioning glance at Jude, who leaned in. “As a sentinel of Light, he can sense your Vessel essence clearly.”

“Quite right. What I should ask before we proceed is whether you give yourself freely in the bond of marriage to this man.”

“Yes, I mean, I do, I mean—”

The priest laughed, squeezing my fingers still in his gentle grasp. “This isn’t the time for vows yet, dear. But as a man of God, I must ask before we proceed.” He let go of my hands. “Well then. Up the steps. Let’s get you two kids wed.”

I laughed, knowing full well Jude was centuries old and hadn’t been a kid in some time. Hell, I couldn’t even imagine him as a kid like, ever.