Page 33 of Jude

A silver pendant swung out from his chest, dangling right above the soapy foam.

I froze, the plate in my hand slipping from my fingers and hitting the bottom of the basin with a wet splash.

‘What?’ he growled, flicking his eyes to me, sensing my surprise.

My gaze was on the amulet hanging off his neck chain, blinking at the intricate metal carving of an eagle.

My mind flashed to the same Aquila del Bonelli emblem stamped onto the vinyl sticker near the brass latches of his guitar case.

‘Where did you get that?’ I muttered as I wiped my wet palms down the thighs of my denim jeans.

Jude blinked as he pulled the argent piece away from his skin and showed it to me.

‘I found it on tour in Rome. It’s an Aquila del Bonelli eagle that represents honesty, truth and freedom. Why’re you looking at it like you’ve seen a ghost?’

My heart hammered as I reached beneath the collar of my own linen blouse.

My fingers were trembling as I hooked the thin metallic chain resting on my collarbone, pulling my own small, weathered amulet out into the light.

The metal was smooth from years of my anxious fingertips rubbing the feathers, but the silhouette was undeniable.

It was a similar raptor.

Jude stepped backward as his eyes locked on the matching token.

His expression shifted to astonishment.

‘Heck, Sofia. That’s the same bird. How’s that even possible?’

‘It’s an old talisman,’ I whispered, leaning on the counter in wonder. ‘When I was nine years old, a mudslide destroyed our entire village in Calabria. My parents vanished in the river. I survived by climbing on a branch, and one of these eagles sat right beside me through the freezing mountain rain for hours until dawn when the rescue boats spotted me. A paramedic told me what it was. I found this duplicate in a Calabria market years later to remind me that I wasn’t abandoned that fateful night.’

Jude fell silent, his chest rising and falling, as he narrowed his eyes on me.

He appeared to be studying the depths of my soul.

His scrutiny flicked over my hair, face, and neck, taking me in, his emerald gaze cutting deep into me.

The hard mask he wore like a shield seemed to dissolve, his broad shoulders relaxing as the stubborn stiffness left his spine.

He reached out, his calloused thumb brushing the edge of my charm without touching my skin.

His touch was tender for a man dedicated to ripping wild guitar solos on stadium stages.

He glanced at me, and our eyes locked.

My heart lurched at the sincerity in his gaze as his lips parted.

‘I’m so sorry to hear about your parents.’

His burred, hoarse rasp sent shivers through me, sending a honeyed warmth all over me.

‘Thank you. It was a long time ago.’

‘Heard of synchronicity and serendipity, babe?’

The words were lush, sentimental, and they surprised me coming out of Jude’s mouth.

I nodded.