Chapter Eleven
JUDE
Westlyn practically inhales her breakfast, sparing only a few meager bites for Lucinda and Huxley and refusing to share anything atallwith her gargoyles—a thing neither Auggie nor I complain about. Her appetite is finally back—and with a vengeance. That can only be a good sign.
When she finally downs the last of her latte, and Auggie’s sure she won’t stab his claw with a fork for taking away the scraps too soon, he removes her tray and brings it back to the kitchen. The birds trail after him, probably hoping he’ll drop one of the few remaining crumbs.
Westlyn and I are, for the moment, alone.
Moonlight shines down on us through Drae’s windows, and I look at her profile, her cheeks pink, her tousled hair spilling in waves over her shoulders, and my chest tightens.
To think she almost slipped away from us. That if Drae and the birds hadn’t gotten to her when they did, Eloise might’ve taken her from us…
Fury boils up inside me, tempered only by what I feel for her.
She leans back against the pillows again and wriggles her toes, admiring the polish. Then, turning to me with a smile that melts my heart, she says, “I never thought I’d see the day Jude Hendrix gave me the best pedicure I’ve ever had.” She glances down at her toes again. “Just look at that color. That shine. Seriously, Jude. I think you missed your true calling.”
“Westlyn.” My voice is barely a whisper, my throat knotted with emotion. I cradle her face in my hands, my gaze sweeping down to her mouth, then back to her eyes.
Three words. Three small, single-syllable words. They rise inside me now, chasing off the last of my anger about her plight.
For fifteen hundred years, I’ve been utterly dead inside, my heart so frigid I was certain I’d forgotten those words, forgotten how to say them, forgotten what they even meant. Yet looking at her now, holding her face in my hands, feeling her warm breath on my skin, I know I haven’t forgotten. They’ve been here all along, tucked away inside me behind all the bitterness and rage and regret, quietly waiting for the moment when this soft, feisty, crazy, beautiful witch crossed my path.
Waiting forthismoment.
And now that it’s here, those words well up, threatening to burst me open like a ripe melon.
She gazes at me intensely, her eyes wide. “Oh no.Westlyn? The real name again. Whatever it is, just tell me, Jude. If I have to hear any more bad news, I’d rather get it all at once. Rip off the—”
“Westlyn,” I say again. “I love you.That’swhat it is.” I swallow the lump lodged in my throat and try again, clear and sure this time. “I’m in love with you. So you’re damn bloody right I’m giving you the best pedicure you’ve ever had, along with the best foot massages, the best kisses, the best… the best of anything you desire. Hell, woman. You already have my heart. Whatever else you want? Name it and I’ll make it so.”
Westlyn’s worried frown stretches into a smile, her eyes shining.
“Anything?” she whispers.
“Anything.”
“The bones of my enemies?”
Fuck. It lights me up inside, the way she’s grinning about that, the little psycho. “Every last one of them, if that’s what it takes to keep that light dancing in your eyes.”
“Jude.” She closes her eyes, placing her hands over mine. A single tear slides down her cheek, but she’s still smiling. In a soft, shy voice, she says, “I’m… I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, too.”
I can’t help the laugh that explodes out of me. “Pretty sure?” I tease. “Prettysure? I confess my deepest feelings, bare my soul, offer you the bones of your enemies—which, by the way, I’ve already proven I can deliver—andthat’sthe response I get?”
I tackle her on the bed, climbing on top of her and ravishing her with kisses—her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. She giggles beneath me, laughing and squirming until she finally admits the truth.
“I’m sure!” she squeals. “I’m positive!”
“Positive aboutwhat?” I demand, my mouth hovering just a hair’s breadth from hers.
Her smile fades, her eyes turning serious. She brings her palm up to my cheek, and I lean into her soft touch.
“I’m positive I love you, Jude Hendrix,” she whispers.
I brush a kiss to her lips, then bring my mouth to her ear. “Say it again, darling.”
She threads her fingers into my hair, then up around my horns. “I love you, Jude Hendrix.”
