Demon Blood

whether to add them to her courtyard.
    He enjoyed walking with her, too—but this wasn’t exactly helping to keep distance between them, and making that break easier.
    But, fuck it. Not that much time was left. He’d take what he could get, and having her holding on to him like this, her fingers gently squeezing his biceps like she appreciated his strength made him feel protective, maybe even necessary. It wasn’t much of a purpose, watching over a woman who could wipe the floor with anyone in this city, but it felt damn good.
    And for the past six months, every time he’d met anyone’s eyes, every time someone had given him a second look, his impulse had been to tell them to fuck off. Now he was watching to see who looked at Rosalia—and judging by the way people’s gazes skittered away and their shoulders hunched when they stopped staring at her and took a look at his face, his expression clearly told them to back off, instead.
    With effort, he resisted baring his fangs at every man who glanced at her twice. He hadn’t ever been possessive, but now he wanted to push Rosalia up against a building and fuck her, just so that anyone looking would know she was his.
    So that Rosalia would know.
    Christ. He had to stop this shit, and focus on why they were here—and how they’d gotten here. “How long did it take you to put this whole thing together?”
    She paused for a moment to examine one of the trees shading the edge of the canal. He half expected songbirds to fly out and land on her shoulders, warbling a sweet little tune while they braided her hair, but she only touched a green leaf, rubbing it lightly between her fingers before answering him.
    “I first thought of it the morning after the gala at the chateau. So, ten days ago.”
    And she’d come to him only three days later , with a good portion of her plan completely worked out. Which meant she hadn’t had to take the time to research, to practice, to study personalities in order to place everyone where she wanted them. She’d already been carrying all of that around in her head.
    Not just carrying it around—she’d known exactly how to use that information.
    “Jesus Christ, Rosie.” The whole freaking world should be thanking God that she was one of the good guys.
    She misunderstood his response. The look she shot him was almost apologetic. “I know I should have taken a few more days, but I had to rush.”
    “Because of London.”
    “Yes. And I hope I didn’t make any mistakes—any more than I already have. It helps that I’ve included as few people as possible, and that we have to carry it out on a short timeline. There are fewer variables, and less chance of something unexpected cropping up.”
    “Like Taylor?”
    “And Anaria and St. Croix,” she added. “I’d rather have proceeded without them.”
    He had to ask, “And without me?”
    “Yes,” she said baldly. “You’re taking on such an enormous risk. I would rather have the risk be all mine.” She stopped and faced him. “But you are the key. In no conceivable scenario could a Guardian do this. We could bring together the vampires, perhaps. But the rest? Impossible.”
    Because he’d been ruined. He’d rather not go over that again, though. Nodding, he took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his arm before starting out again.

    The demon was already dead. The body lay near a white sofa, and the head had been propped up on the oversized television. Blood trailed down the flat screen and dripped to the zebra-skin rug. “The Blue Danube” played on the sound system, a surreal accompaniment to the scene.
    Deacon crossed the room, crouching beside the body. He couldn’t smell anything but demon blood. Guardians wouldn’t have left an odor, but they wouldn’t have come here—not without first telling Rosalia. A vampire’s lingering scent would be detectable this close to the time of death. The body was still warm. Almost hot.
    So the demons who’d done this probably hadn’t gotten far. Maybe they hadn’t left at all, but had been waiting for Deacon to head inside, leaving Rosalia alone.
    Deacon hauled ass back outside, breathed his relief when he saw her standing in the shadows beneath a tree. Were they being watched? He pushed out with a strong psychic sweep, hard enough that Rosalia’s eyes widened. Her mind felt human, with strong shields. He pushed harder, a hell of a lot harder, until he broke through and sensed the Guardian beneath. That was what