Free Sealed in Sin by Juliette Cross Page B

it offered, embraced in blue serenity. The water transformed. Strong arms, broad shoulders, muscled torso, heavy thighs wrapped me in deep calm. This prince of winter had a face, a beautiful one with sea-green eyes, shining down with affection, admiration…longing. He leaned close, whispering something I couldn’t hear.
    His lips found mine, brushing soft and sweet, kissing them open for his tongue to come inside. Still no sound, only the sensual caress of Thomas covering me with his body, his hands, his mouth. We lay in the clearing on the snow, but no cold touched me. Only the sensation of heat filling my blood, pumping my heart, racing along my skin. I floated in some surreal place. A paradise offering pleasure not peace. Desire was a constant, desperate thing, urging me on. I arched against him, pressed my breasts to his chest, opened my legs, laced my fingers into his silky hair, stroked my tongue against his, needing him closer, closer…deeper.
    I gasped awake. Panting. Shaking.
    The sound and smell of bacon frying in the kitchen snapped me from my daze.
    I jumped out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. After stripping and placing my necklace on the counter, I stepped under the shower, letting the steaming water wash away the dream-memory of Thomas’s hands on my skin, his lips on mine.
    What was that?
    By the time I dried off and pulled on a pair of jeans and a top from the bottom drawer of Jude’s dresser, I felt ten times better. I’d recently started storing some of my clothes here for sleepovers, which seemed to be more and more often.
    While brushing my teeth, I tried to rid myself of the guilt. It wasn’t cheating if my subconscious did the deed. Right? But why would I be thinking such things, even in sleep?
    Now in the full light of day in Jude’s home, I felt grounded, stable, safe. Far away from wicked thoughts that had no place in my head.
    I walked into the kitchen, twisting my hair into a messy bun. Sitting at the table, I pulled my knees under my chin. Our morning routine had become habitual in recent weeks. Some nights, I stayed at my place, but Mindy and David were so disgustingly wrapped around each other that I felt like I was invading their honeymoon suite rather than living in my apartment. I’d opted to crash at Jude’s more times than I could count. He didn’t seem to mind, though I rarely had the pleasure of his company at night when he was out on the hunt for the prophecy.
    Shirtless in jeans, Jude stood over the stove, stirring scrambled eggs in a pan. I let my eyes have their fill. Strange thing was, I never did get my fill, never did get bored of shamelessly ogling this beautiful man. His magnificent, full-back tattoo of St. Michael the Archangel slaying the devil rippled as if it were alive, moving over tight muscles beneath tan-and-ink skin.
    Scooping eggs and bacon onto a plate, he turned to bring it to me, knowing I was already there. I jumped to my feet.
    “What happened to your chest!”
    “Good morning.” He pecked me on the forehead and placed my breakfast on the table.
    I angled his hard-muscled body toward the light filtering through the bay window. He let me move him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have budged him an inch. A long gash crossed from his inside shoulder about seven inches across his pectoral, slashing across the right arm of his Celtic cross tattoo. He’d stitched it up himself. I recognized the stitching, having had his handiwork on my abdomen after a scrape with demons two months ago.
    “It’s fine. I had a run-in with a demon spawn last night.”
    “It doesn’t look fine.” I kept my fingers away from the wound, examining closer under the morning light. “What kind of demon spawn?”
    “A titan. A big one.”
    Most spawn, created by high demons, took small unassuming forms, such as the dark mind-mist Gorham used to control the innocent girls in his strip club. Rarely had I heard about the furies or titans. I’d never seen either myself.
    “What