Demon Blood

have already done—and will do—too many other things that a Guardian shouldn’t.”
    “Like using vampires as a means to an end?”
    He wished he hadn’t said anything when that familiar sadness darkened her eyes.
    “Yes,” she said. “I could start with that. Do you want a list?”
    So now she was hating on herself. Maybe he wanted to, too—and find any reason that would make it easier to walk away when it was time to go.
    “Lay them on me, princess.”
    She pulled back with a half smile that didn’t erase the shadows in her eyes. “I’ll give you one a day.”
    Just like his reasons to stay. Now she was giving him reasons to go. Which would run out first?
    He suddenly wished to hell he hadn’t asked. But it was too late. She was turning away from him, sitting up.
    “Since you’re awake, we should find out whether you’re vulnerable to the sun.”
    No. Since he was awake, he should throw her back down on the bed, get his fangs in her. But she was already up, shutting him out. Suppressing a frustrated growl, he grabbed for his pants.
    She clothed her body in that black outfit—the one he thought of as her Zorro getup, complete with cloak. Maybe she didn’t lock herself away, but hidden within its folds, she sure as hell put as many layers between herself and the world as she could.
    And after convincing her to hold on to him, to trust him, he was doing a damn good job of pushing her away.

CHAPTER 15
    Deacon was shrugging into his shirt when Rosalia opened the door. Instinctively, he stepped to the side to avoid any light falling into the room, but the corridor was in shadow. She looked back at him.
    “There’s no direct sunlight beyond the gallery.”
    So he wouldn’t know if he’d burn until they reached the walkway overlooking the courtyard. And he didn’t need to jump into it. Pushing a fingertip into the sun’s path would do.
    He stepped through the doorway. The bright fall of golden light at the end of the corridor was stunning. His eyes stung. Blinking rapidly, he said, “I once knew a vampire who got caught outside near dawn, so he climbed into the trunk of his car.”
    He walked toward Rosalia, waiting at the intersection of the corridor and gallery. She lifted her fingers into the sun. The light formed a brilliant corona around her pale hand, but he could hardly focus on it. The burning rays overwhelmed his field of vision.
    “When he woke up,” Deacon continued, “his legs had been cut through below the ankles. The seam of the trunk lid hadn’t been tight, and the light had sliced through like a laser scalpel.”
    Rosalia’s face was in shadow, but he could barely see her. Her features were darkening, fading away. “He is fortunate he was not facing the other direction.”
    “Yes.” If it had cut through his neck, the vampire wouldn’t have been waking up. Crazily enough, though, if it had cut through half his head, slicing his brain in two, he’d have eventually healed. “I don’t need to stick my hand out there to see that the sun will fry me, Rosie.”
    He heard the frown in her voice. “Why?”
    “Because I can’t see anything now.”
    In an instant she was touching his face, his eyes. The warmth of the sun still lingered on her right hand. “It blinded you?”
    He’d barely finished nodding before she was leading him back into her room. She steered him to a chair, sat him down. He felt her breath on his face, her gentle fingers around his eyes.
    “Does it hurt?”
    “No.”
    By her silence, he knew she was looking for evidence that he’d lied. In a few seconds, he thought he’d be able to see her, too. A blurry image was already returning.
    “It’s healing,” he said.
    “That quickly?” Now that he could almost focus on her, he didn’t just hear the concern in her tone, but saw it in her eyes. Her hands ran down his shoulders. A note of realization entered her voice. “You healed quickly last night, too. And you’re stronger. Faster.”
    She’d begun to frown. As everything she’d just said sounded damn good, Deacon couldn’t see what there was to frown about.
    “That’s a problem?”
    “No,” she said, though her expression disputed her reply. Deacon wondered if she’d realized yet that he could see her again. “You’ll be safer. The demons will know why you’re coming now, and they won’t let you talk first. But they still won’t anticipate your speed. Especially now.”
    “But?”
    “But you might have to lower your shields.