Demon Angel

and you stay alive, because not to ingest is a form of suicide, and that would be a failure in service to Lucifer, and you'd end up frozen in the field anyway."
    His footsteps were soft; that she heard them at all must mean he'd wanted her to. He wasn't trying to take her unawares. He was giving her the choice to acknowledge his approach—or not.
    She did. And his mouth was warm and sure on hers; no heat in this kiss, only tenderness and an offer of strength, did she need it. She would have preferred heat—she could distract him with that, avoid telling the rest of it.
    He didn't give her the opportunity. His palms cupped her face when he pulled back, his gentleness its own vise, holding her still for his relentless, searching gaze. "As terrible as your Punishment was, that is not reason enough to have hidden it. Colin was surprised you hadn't manipulated me with it—and initially I thought he meant the loss of your shifting ability these past sixteen years. But it was this Punishment he spoke of. Was I the cause of it?"
    Her eyes narrowed. "You take it upon yourself too easily. I was the cause; the decision was mine to make. I knew the consequences of it."
    "Of giving me to Michael," he realized.
    "That and interfering with your execution. Had Mandeville lopped off your head you would be neither Guardian nor demon. I interfered with his will and had to be punished for it."
    His lips thinned, and his hands fell to his sides, releasing her. But he did not move away, and she couldn't mistake the tension in his long body. "Did you think I'd lament you'd ever saved me and sacrifice myself on a rack of overwhelming guilt?"
    "I'll admit it had occurred to me." Arching her eyebrows, she said, "You were Catholic once."
    He stared at her for a frozen moment, then turned away. Almost immediately he glanced back at her, the corners of his mouth tilted into a reluctant smile, unraveling the hard little knot that had formed in her chest. "You disarm me without effort; you always have—and for that I once felt guilt. I thought myself far too susceptible to your humor, to sin and temptation."
    "And to my tits."
    "Yes." His smile widened, and he gave her chest a cursory glance before meeting her eyes again. "And you do it again. You leave me defenseless, Lilith."
    "If I can manipulate you with laughter and bend you to my will with sex, be certain that I'll keep you permanently disarmed," she said. "Because your defense is to fall down upon your sword."
    His smile faded. "You think it is easy for me, that it is my first choice."
    "I have seen you do it before," she reminded him.
    The frustration in his voice echoed hers. "Aye, but if I were in the same position as I was then, I would not do it again." Her surprise must have shown on her face, for he gave a hard, short laugh. "What were my reasons? Guilt, for encouraging you, challenging you, and not knowing a way to stop you? Piety? Duty? Those are the reasons of an idealistic fool, a youth who imagines himself a hero. There was no gain in the lie I told; not for the baron nor the countess, nor for you. You think that by telling me of your Punishment, I will feel obligated—because of guilt, because of duty—to die for you. Yet none of these reasons are mine now: not piety, not guilt, and certainly not obligation."
    She bowed her head, her breaths coming in sharp pulls. "You are a fool to love me," she said tightly. "I did not ask this of you—don't want this from you."
    "And yet you have it. You accepted me, knowing the type of man I am. Do you reject me now?"
    She should; for his sake, she should. But his carefully even tone—after anger, laughter, and frustration—alerted her to the pain and fear beneath the question better than a shout could have. She glanced up, and though his gaze was calm and steady, his shoulders slumped as if in defeat, his body braced for a blow. And even did she say yes, she realized, he would not stop his efforts to save her; he would just do it alone.
    Wordlessly, she shook her head. His eyes closed, and he released the breath he'd been holding. A quick step forward, and he swept her up and spun her around in a circle, his laughter a deep rumble in his chest. "You will be the death of me, Lilith," he said as he set her back down.
    She bit back her grin. "That's not funny."
    "Yes, it is," he said, and caught her fist before she could hit him. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, then to her lips.
    "Promise," she said. "If I can't stop you,