“What?”
“Tristan told me they werepreachers.”
“Oh. Uh. Not preachers. More like guards. I don’t have much contact with them.” My parents were both Abaddon Erelim—sentinels of the celestialunderworld.
He set down his wineglass, and a drop sloshed out. “Who do they guard that they had to toss you into a boardingschool?”
Jarod’s inquisitiveness made avoiding lying difficult. It reminded me of theneither-yes-nor-nogame I used to play with Celeste when I helped out in the guild’s nursery, the one that, without fail, she would beat meat.
I went with: “My parents guard a prison.” Which was sort of true since they patrolledAbaddon.
He let out a low grunt that, coupled with his disapproving stare, made my spinestiffen.
“You don’t get to judge them,Jarod.”
“Perhaps, but you do. And you don’t seem to be bothered by having beenabandoned.”
“Because I don’t see it asabandonment.”
“What do you see itas?”
Instead of locking horns, I turned the tables on him. “So, you grew up with your uncle? Was he a niceman?”
“Uncle was the founder ofLa Cour des Démons, so no, he wasn’t a niceman.”
“Was he nice to you, atleast?”
“He was good to me. He gave my parents a roof when they had none, adopted me after Mom passed away, and then left me all of this.” He gestured to thehouse.
“How did hedie?”
Jarod hooked his foot on his knee and jostled it. “Didn’t you look my family up? It was all over thetabloids.”
I should’ve, but in my haste to arrive here then forfeit this mission, Ihadn’t.
“He was in a car accident.” He stared at the sleepy courtyard and the lit fountain beyond his window. “Which was noaccident.”
His confession didn’t shock me. Mob bosses had many enemies and didn’t meet kind ends. Jarod would incur the same fate if he didn’t changeprofessions.
“Aren’t you scared of gettingkilled?”
He shot me a withering smile. “I’d rather die from a bullet than fromboredom.”
“Normal jobs aren’t all boring. Especially if you find something you’re passionateabout.”
“Let’s talk about youagain.”
“I don’t like talking aboutmyself.”
He linked his fingers behind his head and leaned back. “What are your favorite sexualkinks?”
My cheeks felt like they’d beentorched.
“You don’t need to blush, Feather. I’m the last person who’d judgeyou.”
“That’s not why.” I dropped my gaze to my mousse. “I just don’t want to discuss sex withyou.”
“Whynot?”
