Jude; The Fallen (The Fallen Series, Book 2) (6 page)

“Please tell me you just didn’t offer up Teraslynn.” He could feel his back starting to itch under the playfulness of that smile. “Because that’s creepy.”

“What? It’s no secret that Teir is,” she put up her fingers in air quotes, “friendly. She’s a free spirit. A bit of a hedonist, actually. She loves everything about life. Music, dancing, eating, drinking…sex. Lots of sex. Why do you think half those idiots are here with her? It’s not the insurance plan.”

Jude shifted on his feet, trying hard to remember why he came in here in the first place. The golden tattoo on his back was burning now, catapulted into wakefulness by the images his brain was producing regarding Coriander and sex. He realized he wanted to touch her again, to get the relief he knew he would find when her skin met his. A brush of the cheek, a hand sliding down her arm, her lips on his, his tongue in her mouth, her hand wrapped around his-

“What the hell is Alex?” he blurted, cutting off the slapdash porno in his brain. “He’s not human, right? He glows. Tell me you know he glows.”

Coriander gave him a curious frown at his switch in the conversation, but replied smoothly, “He’s an Anubis.”

“A what?”

“You heard me. The word is ‘Anubis’.” Coriander sighed. “Really, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to wrap your head around, given you are,” she gestured with her hand in his direction, “what you are.”

Jude snorted. “And what’s that?”

“Special,” she replied dryly. “In more ways than one.” Ignoring his frown, she continued. “Look, it’s not something I’m comfortable talking about, because it puts me precariously close to the edge of bestiality,” She gave an irritated shiver. “Ew. So if you’re dead set on figuring him out, I suggest you go to Alex and talk to him. Horse’s mouth, er….dog and all that.”

“You? Not comfortable talking about something?” Jude exclaimed, mock-surprise flitting across his face. “I don’t believe it.”

“Very funny,” she sneered.

“Anubis. The ones with dog heads? Like werewolves?”

Coriander pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Werewolves? Honestly?” She frowned. “Have you been reading Seph’s romance novels again?” She shook her head and raised her hand. “No, I don’t want to know. He’s as human as you and…well, as human as I am, at any rate. No, he’s not a,” her fingers shot up with air quotes again, “shifter, or anything like that. He’s just different, okay? Differently Anubis.”

“’Differently’—that doesn’t make any sense, Coriander.”

“Nothing about my life ever makes any sense. I thought you would have figured that out by now. The fact remains that he and I are still partners of sorts. Alex and I were over romantically a long time ago, and frankly the best things to come out of our associations are Ashtiru and my fat bank account. In that order.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Now, if you’re finished giving me the third degree over crap that has nothing to do with you, and nothing to do with the current course of Demon-Killing One-oh-one, then we’re done here.” She jerked her head to the door, but Jude stood his ground, meeting her frosty look with a glare of his own.

“Do I need to be concerned?”

“About what?” she snapped.

“The safety of my brothers,” he replied. “You know, kind of what we do here. Keep people safe. Is he a threat?”

“A threat?” Coriander rolled her eyes and huffed with exaggerated zeal. “Please. Alex is harmless. Well, unless you lie to him, but that’s beside the point.” She waved her hands around for emphasis. “What
is
important is that yes, he is the father of my child, no, we’re not together anymore, and whether you like it or not, he will be around. So you can either try to play nice and get along with him, or you can politely get the fuck out of my house. Understand?”

He ignored the comment. “There is another matter I want to discuss with you. The one I came in here for, actually.”

She sat down at her desk and started to rifle through some paperwork. “And what’s that?”

“You owe me an apology, Coriander.”

She responded with an unladylike snort.

“I'm serious, Coriander.”

“So am I.” Was he going to keep saying her name like that?
Coriander.
He drew out all four syllables, just like her mother when she was well on her way to being pissed. That needed to stop.

She looked up from her paperwork and studied him. He was a man on a mission, his face hard with determination. She knew that look. Men trembled in fear and scrambled to get the hell out of his way when he wore that expression. It was move or fucking be moved. But there was something else lurking behind the dark sapphire of his eyes. Something softer and infinitely more terrifying.

“I mean it. You owe me an apology.” The rumble in his voice sent a hot shiver down her spine.

He was so not playing fair, coming into her office looking all dangerous and sexy. Sexy? She groaned, and she frowned at him for flustering her.

“You need to unclench. Your jaw is so sharp I could shave my legs on it.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “And I disagree. I have nothing to apologize for.” She folded her hands primly on the wide expanse of lacquered wooden desktop.

“You shot me!” Jude exclaimed, the ferocity rearing its head. “Twice!” he added.

Coriander pointed a stabby finger at him and furrowed her brows in indignation. “You
kissed
me!”

“Once!” he yelled, redness coloring his cheeks. “I kissed you once!”

“Yeah, well it deserved two slugs!” she shot back, popping up from the chair.

“Coriander!” he growled.

“Don't you 'Coriander' me!” she snapped. “You're not my mother! And this is my house!
My
house! You and the rest of the flock can't just barge in here while I'm out of town and start telling me what to do! I mean, you just came in and took over!” she cried. A fiery red curl popped free from her ponytail as her head shook in frustration. Her finger jabbed in the air more viciously this time as she continued the tirade, “Poor Winston-”

“What about him? Nobody's touched the butler!” Jude argued.

“What about him?” She was near to screaming now. “He's
English
, for chrissakes! The raciest thing to come through this house while I'm gone is Ovaltine! Cleaning up after Domniel alone has almost given him apoplexy! Twice!” she sputtered. “If he hadn't buttled for The Stones in the late sixties, you boozy pigeons would have sent him over the edge!” She threw her hands up and groaned loudly. “My sister Teraslynn and the pack of screeching micks she hangs with aren't even this bad! But put you all together, and suddenly my place is a goddamned commune!”

Jude crossed his arms and frowned at her, the hard mask back in place. “You're changing the subject. I came for an apology. I will get one.”

The set in his stance and the steel of his spine irritated her beyond words. She picked up the crystal paperweight from the desk and chunked it at him full force, the exasperated scream echoing off the office walls. He sidestepped with a duck and it hit the bookcase next to him, shattering as it crashed to the floor.

“Get out. Get out now.” Her voice was like stone.

He opened his mouth to reply, but shadows crossed his eyes, and he turned on silent feet to leave the room.

The air whooshed from her lungs in one long breath as she sat down again and put her head in her hands. So far, coming home hadn’t shaped up to be the lovefest she was promised. No, it was all yelling and screaming. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't work. And nothing kept her from her relics. Winston, bless his uptight English soul, was working himself into an impressive strop just about every day, going on and on about ‘those boys and their fraternity house malaise’ and the ‘Irish catastrophe’ that was camping out on his beloved St. Augustine grass. And if she heard about the award-winning peonies one more time…well, you got three squares and cable in prison, right?

She sighed once more and went to the glass cabinet in the corner. Beneath the museum-quality lighting, a large, heavily decorated Egyptian death mask stared back at her, its inscrutable expression seeming to mock her. The gold and semi-precious stones gleamed with comforting warmth. She placed a loving hand on the glass. “I swear, Ahkenaten, you're the perfect man. You're rich. You're gorgeous.” She laid her forehead on the glass and stared into its depths. “And you can't give me any lip.”

Jude stood outside the door to the pool house, fist poised to knock on the door. It came as a surprise that he found himself here, preparing to seek comfort from the last person on his radar. He could easily have gone to Lucius or The Wonder Twins, but somehow he didn’t think they would be able to help with his current predicament. Lucius had found the love of his life, and he and Persephone couldn’t be happier. As for Mordecai and Elijah, they were closer than ever after what happened with Veronica and their confrontation with Lucifer. Any woman would be hard-pressed to come between them. He paused, but before he thought better of it, he knocked.

Domniel’s reply was gruff. “What?”

“It’s Jude. Can I come in?”

The door opened with a forceful
whoosh
of air, the action so fast it ruffled the grown-out locks that settled around the blind angel’s face. Domniel looked like he felt. Like shit.

Domniel stepped aside and pulled the door open, allowing entry. Jude walked in a few steps, brushed his hand over the back of his head with a nervous swipe, and looked around. He didn’t know what he expected Domniel’s inner sanctuary to look like, but this wasn’t it. It was clean and spartan, much like the room he had kept at the old place. From the erratic way his blind brother had been acting, he expected to see the turmoil in his soul reflected in his housekeeping. Not so.

Domniel crossed the floor and flopped down on the sofa with a surprising lack of grace. His movements were usually so careful and sure. “What do you want?”

Jude sat down in the opposite chair. “I don’t know, I just thought we could talk about some things. We don’t do that anymore. Haven’t for a while, and I thought-”

“The redhead piss you off again?” Domniel interrupted, leaning back to cross his arms behind his head.

Jude laid his head back and stared at the ceiling, painted a bright blue with large puffy clouds. The effect was oddly pleasing. “It’s a two-way street.”

“Fuck her.”

Jude snorted. “I thought we covered that.”

Domniel shook his head, a soft chuckle spilling from his lips before his face hardened. “No, not ‘fuck her’. Fuck. Her. Forget the bitch. You don’t need her.”

Jude’s chest clenched at his brother’s coldness. The cavalier attitude he was used to had morphed into something darker, more callous. “It’s not that easy, Dom. I don’t know what this is with me and Cori. It’s--shit, I don’t know. It’s like there’s something there. Or something could be there-”

His words cut off as Domniel shot forward, pinning him with what he knew was an icy glare behind the dark sunglasses. “Let’s get this straight right now. I don’t care. I don’t care if you fuck her. I don’t care if you don’t. I don’t care if you sit on the fence all day with your thumb up your ass, hemming and hawing about whether or not you want to fuck her. I don’t care.” He stood up and clenched his hands into fists at his side. “I. Don’t. Fucking. Care. So do me a favor and take your whining, pansy ass back to Lucius. Bond over tea and cupcakes or something. Just get the fuck out and leave me alone.”