Demon Blood

she hadn’t really expected that answer. “Did you know that choice would be gone? Did Camille tell you?”
    “Yes. She laid it all out. Everything.”
    “Oh.” It came out on a breathy laugh. “Good.”
    Leaning forward against the back of the chair, he put his hands on her knees, squeezed gently. “That’s a lot of relief. You didn’t make that choice?”
    “I did before taking my vows. But vampires . . . so many are disappointed later. It’s best that they know before they transform.”
    Wicked humor lit his gaze. “Maybe the nephil blood changed that. We should test whether I’m fertile now. Test hard, and test often.”
    Her laugh came out in a rush, and she thought: This was when lovers touched, and showed affection for the person with them. Her stomach in knots, she leaned forward, brushed her mouth over his.
    He palmed the back of her head before she could pull away. “You want me to try now, just give the word.”
    Oh, how she did. She wanted him inside her all the time, her body against his, overwhelmed by emotion and release. She wanted to lie against him afterward, stroking his skin.
    But she thought of those vampires, in their little world for thirty years. And sighed.
    “I’m beginning to hate that sound,” he said, kissing her briefly and letting her go. He sat back. “You did good with St. Croix.”
    And so, back to work. “I hope so.”
    “He could have been a wild card.”
    “He still is.” But hopefully he’d wait to play until they’d finished.
    “You reeled him in with that story about your mother.” When she looked at him, he asked quietly, “You think that’s true—that killing herself was part of a bargain?”
    “No,” she said, and could see his surprise. “But it’s possible that’s what his father did.”
    His green eyes pierced her, as if trying to see into her. He thought she was deflecting again, she realized. He didn’t want to hear about St. Croix’s father—he wanted to know about her.
    “My mother was a strong woman,” Rosalia explained. “But he beat her down, and she gave up.”
    He nodded, as if she’d just confirmed something he’d thought. “And now you can’t give up. And it’s why you can’t get back into bed when you have work to do.”
    He thought he’d pinned her with that one thing? “It’s not that simple.”
    “No? Don’t tell me you haven’t thought how different your and your brother’s life would be if she had stuck in there and protected you, or gotten you out of there.”
    Rosalia had thought about it. A thousand times. And just as often, she’d ruminated on how evil a demon must be, that he could take a strong-willed human and break her down so that death seemed a better option than living and protecting her children. Rosalia had her own child now. She couldn’t fathom the depth of evil that would lead her to leave him unprotected.
    Her mother had faced that evil and lost; Rosalia would fight until her last breath to destroy it. But she wasn’t stronger than her mother. She just had more knowledge . . . and a better plan.
    “My life would have been different, but it could have been better or worse. I only know what is —and now I’m a Guardian. Perhaps my mother’s suicide shaped me, but my mother is not the only reason I cannot give up. Vin, Gemma, you . . . my Guardian friends, the vampires I’ve watched and known for centuries. You are all reasons. And, if Anaria has her way, every human’s free will is in danger—perhaps their lives. I have many reasons not to quit. It’s not as simple as my mother.”
    “So you’re a woman with a mission.” His expression remained serious, his gaze still penetrating. “A mission you meant to convince me to join. London forced you into doing it faster.”
    Her stomach sank. He had heard Father Wojcinski. “Yes.”
    “You didn’t like the idea of using me, so you convinced me instead. And I’m here, willingly, so you must have. Hell, I came running back after you. What did you do?”
    “Deacon—”
    “What string in me did you pull?”
    “That you’re a good man. That you’ve always been a good man, and a strong one.”
    He shot to his feet. “Cut the bullshit, Rosie. Specifically.”
    It wasn’t bullshit, but the truth. Because if it hadn’t been, nothing she’d done would have made a difference to him.
    “I made myself a person to you, because you can’t ignore a person in need. And instead of asking you to do it for humans or vampires . . . I