Page 20 of Judge of Saints and Sinners

He didn't answer. He was circling the small apartment, long pale fingers skimming along the walls as he did.

“What’s your name, anyway?”

He paused and then said after a moment, “You can call me Judge.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fitting.”

His sigh was deep and long, and I could tell he was completely exasperated with me. Probably the exact same way I felt about him. But even as he relaxed on the edge of the mattress, his back supported by the wall, his legs stretched out, deep inside I knew that he wasn’t a danger to me. The danger that had followed me my whole life, the curse that I seemed to bring wherever I went…. I could feel that lurking behind me, around me, inside my shadow. But now, with him here, things felt different. There was a brightness in my chest that nearly made me dizzy at times.

And while I knew people had mentioned butterflies when they met certain people, this was something else altogether.

I stared at the beautiful demon, who was closing his eyes as if he had not a single worry in his entire being.

“Make yourself at home,” I grumbled as I plopped my purse by the door and watched Cerberus move over to lie down by his master.

One amber eye flickered open in my direction before closing again. “If you think that I’m not going to watch you every second of the day until you fulfill my end of the bargain, then you have something else coming.”

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “You’re serious about staying here, then.”

He sighed again, the powerful muscles in his chest rising and falling. “Deadly so. To separate us would cause vast amounts of pain for both parties.”

I gaped at him, at the dog, and then back at him until I realized my mouth was getting dry and Judge had done nothing but apparently doze off during my temper tantrum. I stomped over to the kitchen, banging my shitty pans around as I dug for something to fill my growling stomach. As I attempted to trigger the gas on my rickety little stove, my temper rose. “Should’ve stolen something precooked while I was at it.”

I was still fuming when the demon moved through the apartment. Appearing at my side, his long-fingered hands swept across the oven, and instantly the fuse lit and my water jumped to a boil. I stared slack-jawed at him, a little shocked by another casual showing of magic.

“Oh, okay. Fine, you can stay.”

Judge chuckled, the sound as rich as it was surprising, his body hot against the back of mine. I kept my eyes trained on the pasta noodles I was opening, dumbing them into the now boiling water. But they strayed away, my chin twisting a little to see what he was looking at. He seemed fascinated by every move of my hands. And I couldn’t deny the way that my skin flushed with every breath of his that hit the back of my neck.

“You don’t know much about personal space, do you?”

Judge stepped back, but only slightly. I was surprised by the way my body clenched, missing the presence of him against me. “My apologies. I meant only to watch. I find your cooking to be fascinating.”

“You’ve never made pasta before?”

“I’ve never made anything edible before.” I heard him walking away, moving back to the window. I cut a quick look in his direction, watching as he leaned down, his palms flat on the windowsill as he stared out into the alleyway below. Shame filled my stomach for a moment.

“Sorry it’s not much of a view.”

Judge turned, sitting his butt on the edge instead of his hands, and regarding me carefully. “I find it rather beautiful.” Was he smirking?

My cheeks felt too warm, and it had nothing to do with the stove in front of me. I forced my attention back to the pasta, stirring it aggressively.

“What’s it like? Where do you come from?”

He didn’t answer for a long time, and I didn't think he would for a minute. I drained the water, hissing at the steam as it warmed my face even further. As I was moving the noodles back to the saucepan, I heard his voice once more.

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice emotionless. “Dying.”

“Dying?”

His lips quivered as I poured some pasta sauce over the top of my noodles and added the chicken. “Just because our citizens are less…corporeal than your own doesn't mean we don't have many of the same issues.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to assume. I thought maybe it would be all…lava and grim reapers and such.”

Judge lifted one shoulder, the muscle in his forearm jumping. “The reapers only serve my brother, and as for lava, it’s not what you think.”

I stared, attempting nonchalance, but my voice came out a high-pitched squeak. “Uh-huh. Sure.”