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And the next, I’m terrified.
Terrified that nothing good can come from this.
I’ve never been a religious woman, but even I can feel our sins hanging over our heads.
There will be repercussions.
He may feel like he’s sufficiently punished me for what I did, and even forgiven me for it, but I have the sinking suspicion that we haven’t seen all the fallout yet.
And getting me pregnant isn’t going to make up for any of it.
There are people out there that still want to kill him.
Jude leans over me and plants his hands down on either side of my head.
With him stretched out above me, completely naked, I give into the urge to slowly drink in the sight of his bare flesh.
His own spell wrapping around me and sucking me in.
The man is magnificent, there’s no denying that.
I don’t know what his tattoos mean, if they mean anything, but I like to lose myself in them.
Lose myself in the battles of angels and demons.
Tentatively, I reach up and place my palm lightly against his chest. Feeling his smooth, inked skin.
He seems to love it when Abel touches him and explores his tattoos.
But for some reason, I always feel nervous when I do it.
Maybe because I feel nervous about him, period.
When he smiles down at me, pleased, I smile back at him. “You’re leaving?”
His smile instantly fades. “Yes.”
It would only be natural to ask where he’s going next…
But I actually don’t want to know.
I’d rather not know what he gets up to when he’s off on his own.
Because I have the feeling he’s not off selling fucking bibles or encyclopedias.
Not after seeing him chop off Rodney’s hand.
My mind starts to wonder how many hands and dead bodies have been left in a wake behind him…
But I quickly yank it back.
That way only leads to insanity, and if I want to survive any of this I need to keep my wits.
I need to be ready to make my escape.
Abel is counting on me.
Abel and his well-being are the only things keeping me sane at this point.
