Demon Angel

hesitated when he reached her chair; she swiveled the stool to face him. "Is this kindness as well?"
    "Nay." He would have given anything to feel her skin against his; still, he did not reach out. "I do hate my failures, but it is not the reason I fight to save you."
    "I know." She looked down at her hands, resting atop her bent knee. "I rarely trust a demon's words; lies are compulsory. Lucifer was upset that I had chosen to tell you the truth about our bargain. I don't think he realizes you would not be fooled by them, and so they are useless." A half-smile tilted her lips. "That could work to our advantage. I shall only speak lies, you shall divine the truth—and if we are heard, the demons and nosferatu will assume I'm fulfilling my bargain."
    He shook his head, and his eyes searched hers. "We have both tried to solve our difficulties by going around them, and have only made of mess of it: you forged Polidori's letter, and it has created more problems for us than it has solved. I tried to subvert your Punishment by forcing pleasure from you, and he took your powers. Now the bargain's resolution is imminent, and the consequences no longer affect just the two of us."
    "And you would have us confront the nosferatu directly?" she asked.
    She began laughing, as if she'd imagined them fighting the nosferatu and found the thought hilarious. Mesmerized by the sound, he forgot his earlier reticence and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was still damp from her shower, and he could smell his shampoo, his soap on her skin.
    "Only that we should approach it differently than we have in the past," he said when she paused for breath. Her eyes shone with amusement, and her skin gently flushed with laughter and wine.
    Sliding down in the seat, she raised her leg and rested the ball of her foot against his chest. "So you think I shouldn't lie?" She gave him a light push.
    Automatically, he caught her ankle and used it to anchor himself, shifting his balance; when he had his feet well-braced, he smoothed his palm under the cuff of her khakis. The pants were too long; her foot, half-covered by the material, looked dainty, fragile—the opposite of what she truly was. Appearances were deceiving, even in this.
    "No, I think it will be useful," he said finally. "But in this instance, it would not serve us. A demon would not believe you were following through on the bargain if you only spoke in lies."
    Her brows drew together as if she'd taken offense, and he laughed. Never would it be said Lilith did not pride herself on her ability to lie, to succeed in any purpose with deception.
    "Go on," he challenged. "Lie to me."
----

CHAPTER 28
    Previous Top Next
    She only debated for a moment. It was ridiculous; if he could read her lies, was it an assessment of her skill to hide them? But for what purpose?
    "Your decor is atrocious," she said, testing.
    His eyes widened in mock horror. "I shall kill myself immediately."
    So that was the game. Lies that would lead anyone listening to believe her aims were to kill him. Lies that would serve a demon. "Colin would have," she muttered.
    "I"—he lifted her foot, nipped sharply at her big toe—"am not Colin."
    Her breath caught, and she struggled to keep the arousal that kindled warm and tight in her belly from spreading. Her toe, for fuck's sake. Ridiculous to respond to it. Or to the expression in his eyes: even with humor brightening azure to sapphire, even behind the shields of his lenses, his focus was so intense it felt like a touch.
    He let go her foot. "You can do better," he said.
    No, she could do worse. She drained her face of emotion. "You're a coward."
    He smiled, studying her. A fascinating thing, how he translated the cues of her eyes and tone as easily as her words. "That does not fit the criteria: you must only speak lies. There might be truth in that. I have been a coward where you are concerned, else I would have pursued you as we both wanted, long ago. Perhaps we would not be in this position now if not for my cowardice."
    Now, simply his voice—and a hot, spiraling ache began to coil through her. "This is all the fault of your cowardice," she said dryly.
    "Much better, though absolutes make for rather easy lies."
    "I think you are a coward." She grinned, and slid off the chair. His hands settled on her hips, as if she were a lady dismounting from a horse and he would support her until she found her footing. He did not remove them.
    "Now you flatter me," he said, and