Demon Angel

then his smile faded. Standing, her gaze was on level with his mouth, and it was no effort to imagine flattering its beauty, the firm curve of his lips, the simple power they seemed to have over her. "It would be the type of lie you would need if you wanted to break me. But you are here to kill me. Given that you did not immediately pull out a sword and stab me through the chest, would you not try to convince me to lower my guard? To make me love and desire you, so that the betrayal is more sweet? Is that not what a demon would do?"
    Her heart contracted, and for a moment she could not meet his eyes. She already wanted those things, but they were not lies, nor designed to destroy him. She was not a demon, and no longer served Lucifer—that agreement had been terminated when he transformed her into a human—but they probably still expected her to act like one. Funny, that demons would be deceived by truth, and only because they did not recognize it as Hugh did.
    "So lie to me, if it pleases you" he said quietly, and slid his palms up the sides of her waist, beneath her shirt. "But do not do it for them ."
    She rose up on her toes. Lifted her mouth, not to kiss—not yet—but so that he couldn't mistake her teasing. "I wonder that you accept me so easily, knowing what I have been—what I am . You must have a terrible flaw, your soul irrevocably corrupted by temptation." Winding her arms around his shoulders, she leaned against him. Had she once thought him vulnerable in this human form? Difficult to remember why, with the broad strength of him so close.
    "Easily? It has taken eight centuries, a multitude of kisses bargained and stolen, both of us dead and brought back to life, one terribly translated manuscript and thousands of lies for me to accept you." His voice was light, amused; but she felt the tension in his hands, saw the self-derision in his eyes. "I only wonder that it took me so long."
    She did not. It would have been nothing like the emotional torrent she felt now: beautiful, brilliant. She would have turned it into something ugly, something safe—never realizing that there was another kind of safety in this, despite the threat of the bargain and the nosferafu. Never allowing it to just be.
    Impossible to tell him that; it was easier to lie.
    "I'm still hungry," she said.
    He went rigid against her, and she dipped her head to taste the strong column of his throat. A reverberation against her tongue as a groan escaped him, but the sound was muffled as if he'd clenched his teeth. Did he resist her then?
    Remembering his earlier hesitation, she bit him on the muscled arch between his neck and shoulder. He shuddered, but still did not do more than hold her, his hands firm at her waist.
    Guilt, she guessed. That wouldn't do.
    "I didn't like being taken against the closet door," she whispered silkily. Her tongue swirled over the stretch of skin below his ear. His erection rose taut and hard between them. Desire licked at her, then pulsed deep. "I don't remember how good it felt when you were inside me."
    His breathing was ragged now, his fingers sliding around her back. "It shouldn't have been like that."
    She laughed, forgetting to lie. "How should it have been? Gentle, with marriage vows between us? A lord and his lady, quiet in their bed, thinking of duty and England?"
    "Not a betrayal," he said.
    "Of what? Of whom? Not of me." She pulled back to look at him. His features were drawn tight, his eyes bright with self-directed anger. "I won't lie to please them, only if you do not judge yourself by a morality that has nothing to do with us . If I'd been any other woman, yes, what you did might have been unforgivable. But do you think I didn't feel your struggle? That I didn't rejoice when you failed to resist? I want everything from you; I won't settle for half. I'm selfish and greedy. If I were a better woman, I wouldn't relish the knowledge that you risked your soul to save me; nor, after you'd fulfilled your wager, that you took me despite your honor, your sense, and your character, because you couldn't deny yourself. And I could have escaped you then, saved you in turn, but I chose to stay because I couldn't deny you, either. We are not human, nor Guardian, nor demon; we have made choices that have set us apart, but they were the only choices available to us. What was the alternative to that night? Any night—Essex, Seattle, last week? Every other choice ends in disaster or death. And we are on the cusp