Bound in Black (24 page)

Mira preened the feathers under one wing, then opened her snowy wings wide before flattening them again to her back.

Jude reached across and brushed his forefinger along my jaw with a sad smile. “You needed a companion to keep you buoyed up, so the Light sent her to you. It is the way of Flamma who have the gift of making. I never knew Vessels had this power.”

Mira opened her wings and lifted off the table, then sifted straight through the wall. Going to find her own dinner, I imagined.

“She passes through the wards,” he said in surprise.

“And walls,” I added. “I don’t know how.”

I settled my attention back on my food, eager to fill my empty belly and feed my baby. The baby I needed to tell him about. Butterflies flitted around at the thought. “George said he didn’t know how I’d made her either.”

“Maybe that’s because all Vessels have fallen to darkness or to death before they had the power to do so. But you’re different. You’re the one.”

I scooped up the last spoonful, went to the fridge and removed the jug of distilled water. After pouring us both a glass and downing mine in one long draught, I wiped the back of my mouth and leveled my gaze on Jude.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were hungry, were you?” he asked in a whimsical tone.

I leaned back against the counter and crossed my arms, dead serious. “Jude. There’s something I need to tell you.”

His smile slipped. “What?”

“I don’t know how to sugarcoat this or ease you into the news, so I’ll just come out and say it.”

“Genevieve.” His alpha voice. “Tell me whatever it is.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. I’m going to have your baby. Our baby.”

Deafening silence. Blank, lost stare. Mouth slowly falling open.

“Did you hear me?”

He shook his head.

“No. You didn’t hear me? Or, no, you don’t want this baby?” I never thought there would be a chance he might not want her. I was sure it was a girl. The idea crushed me to the core that he was disappointed. I wanted this child more than anything in my life. I pressed my lips together and blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. Something I found myself doing too often these days.

“I’m going to be a…a father?”

“Yes,” I assured him, still gritting my teeth.

“How could that be? How could…?”

I glanced at the bedroom door. “Are you joking?”

My temper flared. Leave it to Jude to raise my ire within a day of reuniting for real. If he didn’t want this baby, he’d just have to suck it up and deal with it.

“You don’t want the baby?” I managed to ask somehow.

He shook his head, still dumbfounded, and I thought I’d scream or beat him in short, quick order. Then he managed to pull himself together.

“No, it’s not that. I just can’t believe this is possible.”

Still miffed, I snapped, “Well, you certainly know how to make them. Why is it so surprising you actually did?”

I slammed the glass down and stormed past the table. Before I could step out of his reach, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his lap. I went, reluctantly. He was laughing.

“Slow down, my heart.” Whenever he used that pet name, I was putty in his hands, and he knew it. He cradled me close, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I just didn’t know I was still capable. As a Dominus Daemonum, we are told the power to create life is forfeit.”

“Well, I sure as hell haven’t been sleeping with anyone else, if that’s what you’re implying.” The heat of anger flushed my cheeks. I had no idea why I was being so irrational and angry. Definitely pregnancy hormones.

“I know you haven’t. I know you wouldn’t.” He nuzzled into my hair and kissed my cheek, sliding a hand to my lower abdomen. “It must be that we are both Flamma of Light. I don’t know. I don’t know what this means.”

“It means we’ve got a kid coming in about eight months.”

“Four weeks? I’ve been gone four weeks?”

“Nearly.”

“Are you sure you’re pregnant? That’s not very far along.”

“I’m sure. I took about ten pregnancy tests.”

He smirked. “One wasn’t enough?”

“No. I was in slight disbelief myself and needed convincing.”

“Slight disbelief?”

“Mm-hmm.”

His brow puckered into a frown. “What day is it?”

“December 28th. Which makes me somewhere around five weeks, not far along at all, actually. The gestation period is forty weeks, which is really ten months. That whole nine month thing is total bullshit.”

He chuckled. “How do you know this?”

“How do you not know? How old are you again? Seventeen hundred years or something? You should know this stuff already.”

“I never needed to.” He rubbed his heavy palm back and forth on my belly.

“I guess that’s fair. I didn’t know till I needed to either. I’ve had some free time to Google lots of information. So ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“How could you have possibly allowed me to do what I did last night? Won’t that—”

I finally laughed, the tension falling away. The expression on his face was a mixture of horror and fascination. “Jude. Sex won’t hurt a baby.”

“I know that. But I was a little rough. Goddamn it, I’m so sorry. What if I—”

“You’re being ridiculous. And don’t damn my baby. I won’t have it.”

He smiled then, moving his hand from my belly to wrap my nape and draw me close. He pressed a tender kiss to my lips, slipping his tongue inside for a brief taste. “I love you, Genevieve. This is more than I could’ve ever dreamed possible. You fill my heart over and over again.”

I brushed my fingers lightly over the wispy hair falling across his brow. “I was afraid you didn’t want her.”

“Her? You know already?”

“Well, no, not for sure. That would be impossible at this early stage. But I just feel like I’m having a girl. A strong one.”

He shrugged, a smile quirking on one side. “Or a strapping son.”

“Well, girl or boy, I don’t care. I’m just glad you want her. Or him.”

His face registered shock, his brow creasing into a frown. “Why would you ever think that? That I wouldn’t want our child?”

“I don’t know. You just seemed so shocked at first, I was afraid you—”

“Don’t ever think that. There’s nothing I’d love more in this world than to be a father to our child. The one thing that terrifies me is the prophecy still looming. Tell me what you and George have planned, for I know you haven’t just been sitting idly by.”

“Well, you know George. And Uriel has become much more active, like a proper archangel should, in my opinion.”

He smiled. “Oh, is he living up to your expectations of an archangel now?”

“Yes. Finally.” He had become greater in my eyes for all he’d done for Jude.

“So fill me in. Tell me the plan, because I know George has a plan.”

“Do you remember the prophecy? I mean, what it said.”

His frown was back. “I only read it once before I was taken.”

A heaviness settled between us. We hadn’t spoken of Lethe or the underworld yet, and now it seemed unavoidable, hanging in the air like a noose swinging in the breeze.

“Genevieve, why were you there? In the Black Forest in hell. How had you even gotten there?”

While I’d thought Thomas had taken me there, it was Damas, a demon prince. How had I not figured out that an angel couldn’t enter the underworld without a Flamma of Dark leading the way? Even after Uriel had told me he couldn’t help me on my journey to retrieve Jude, I still hadn’t connected the dots that Thomas couldn’t be an angel if he’d guided me there. All along, I’d been swept up and nearly seduced by a demon lord, and I never suspected that he was anything other than what he’d said. I was so stupid, I wanted to punch a fucking wall.

I stood from Jude’s lap and took our bowls to the sink.

“What are you avoiding telling me?”

His commanding voice rolled deep, his question hitting me like a death knell. Time to get it all out in the open.

“Let’s get dressed and go into Brodick. There’s more I need to tell you.”

Jaw clenched, mouth set in a grim line, Jude looked as if he’d argue and force me to spill it. Instead he rose and headed to the bedroom. “Dress quickly,” he called over his shoulder.

Ever since my discovery of Damas, I’d dreaded this moment. To tell Jude I’d put my trust in a demon lord. No,
the
demon lord considered the most dangerous of them all. And I’d accepted the power to sift from him. Through any transfer of power, there would be a connection of sorts. No telling what repercussions would come of that. And the worst was the knowledge that I hadn’t just taken the power in a kiss. I’d let that dark kiss morph into a passionate meeting, one that could’ve doomed me to become his plaything. Like Kat had been.

When I remember Damas pinning me against the wall of the theatre, fingers stroking intimately under my panties, his mouth trailing from my mouth to my breast.
Shit.
Yes, his essence had been in my necklace pendant, twisting my mind and my body to a fever pitch of desire. But there was no doubt that in that moment, he’d sent shivers of pleasure through me—with or without the pendant. I knew now that what Kat had endured was the most ghastly of tortures. He’d made her want him, yearn for him, beg for him. And the whole time she’d hated herself for it.

“Hurry, Genevieve,” Jude called from the next room.

Deep breath in. Time to face my mistakes and accept the consequences.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was around nine o’clock when we sifted into Brodick. I’d sifted us into the alley close to The Brodick Bar and Brasserie. Just a few days ago, I’d come in for takeout and had that enlightening conversation with the old guy, Murdoch. He wasn’t sitting on his regular stool when we walked into the place. The Christmas lights were still strung up over the bar, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. Jude and I ambled in. The little tree still stood in the corner, blinking brightly in blue, green and gold.

Jude’s stiff posture—shoulders tight, hands in pockets—told me he was preparing for bad news. And I sure as hell had some.

The pink-cheeked waitress popped up to the hostess area with a bright smile. “Come right this way. We have a table near the window.”

“Near the back…please. Thank you,” said Jude, his Scottish burr sliding back into place, though his tone was a tad gruff.

We followed her to the back corner. Only a few tables were taken.

“Here you are,” she said cheerily, placing menus in front of us. “And would you like something to drink?”

“I’ll have water with lemon, please.”

“Whisky on ice,” said Jude.

He pulled a chair out for me. I shrugged out of my coat and settled in. He took the seat with the back to the corner, where he could see the entire room, still vigilant in his defense.

“Will Glenfiddich do?” she asked, trying to coax a smile from him. No dice.

“Talisker, if you have it.”

“I’ll have that right away for you.”

She swished off, leaving me alone with a super-tense Jude, a heavy scowl marking his brow. I pulled on the cuff of my sweater, playing with a loose thread. The buildup had taken too long. My nerves rattled around like mad.

“Tell me.” Jude had stretched out one arm on the table—his knuckles nicked white with scars—drumming his fingers once before prompting me again. “I know whatever it is, it’s bad. I know you well enough by now. That expression means guilt and regret. So you might as well just spill it. What happened while I was gone?”

“It wasn’t anything that happened while you were gone.”

The cheerful waitress bustled up to the table, setting down my glass of water and Jude’s tumbler of whisky. “Would you like to order now?”

“This will be all for right now. Thank you,” I said, realizing Jude’s jaw was clenched so tight he couldn’t open it to grit out the courtesy.

She ducked away, her pretty smile fading when Jude wasn’t as cordial as he’d been the last time we were here.

No more stalling. It was time to cut the albatross from my neck, as long as it didn’t strangle me in the process. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter.

“First, I should tell you that I was forced to make an oath with Dommiel in order to get me into the underworld. He was the only one I trusted well enough not to betray me.”

“Dommiel, trustworthy? Really, Genevieve, I thought you’d learned by now none of them can be trusted.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I made a blood oath with him, and he hasn’t betrayed me.”

“A blood oath? And George let this happen?”

“He had no choice. There was no one else. Anyway, that was never the problem. Dommiel kept his end of the bargain. In exchange, I promised to defend and protect his place as demon lord in New Orleans. You always said he was manageable, obeying the rules for the most part, whereas other demon lords might prove more troublesome.”