Demon Blood

Malkvial had not brought every one of Belial’s demons. Only most of them. “A few are scattered throughout the other lands. We will hunt them down and slay them.”
    From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Taylor, arriving in the aisle beside Anaria. Rosalia glanced at the Guardian. Taylor was herself again, her sharp blue eyes taking in everything, her hair red.
    “Look at me ,” Anaria commanded.
    Rosalia did. The grigori’s brilliance pulled tears from her eyes.
    “Do you swear to me, Guardian, that you would slay them? That you would avenge my children?”
    Not Anaria’s children. Rosalia would avenge her family. Deacon’s community and friends. Everyone else who had suffered at the hands of the demons. It did not matter if those demons were Belial’s or Lucifer’s.
    “They will be slain,” Rosalia said. “If not by me, then by the other Guardians.”
    “And in Hell? Will you slay those in Hell?”
    How could she? Rosalia opened her mouth, but knew not what to say. She could slay them, if Taylor teleported her to that realm.
    But Anaria answered for her. “No. You cannot prevail over his demons in Hell.” Determination set her beautiful face. “With my children slain, my father believes he will rise to the throne. But I say to you, the prophecy will not hold.”
    Rosalia shook her head. “I do not know.”
    “I do. And there will be no more waiting—only doing. I will see that he who is most to blame for the death of my children will pay the dearest.” She turned to Taylor. “You will take me.”
    Taylor’s eyes widened. “To Hell?”
    “I will form my army. I will take the throne.”
    As if asking for help, Taylor looked to Rosalia, who was dumbstruck. This was not what they wanted. No one was safe if Anaria took the throne. Not humans, not Guardians, or vampires. But if Anaria was also unable to return to Earth through the Gates . . . they would all be safer for now .
    The decision was taken from them. Taylor’s eyes turned black. As if shoved from behind, she lurched toward Anaria.
    The moment their skin touched, they vanished.
    Rosalia stood motionless in the sudden silence. Then her body gave out, and she fell to her knees. Her wings flopped against the floor. Throwing her head back, she gulped in a breath, then closed her eyes, letting the cool air slip in and out of her lungs.
    But she could not kneel there forever.
    She spoke aloud, knowing they would hear her through the speakers. “Irena, Alejandro—please come. Someone needs to be here when Taylor returns.”
    If Taylor returned here.

    When she arrived at Lorenzo’s house, Deacon was waiting at the entrance. He hauled her inside, pushed her back against the door. He crowded against her, his voice a thick growl.
    “I could kill you for risking yourself like that.”
    But an instant later he was kissing her instead, deep and relieved. She clung to him until he pulled away, his chest heaving.
    “You did it, Rosie. You amazing, incredible woman. You did it.”
    She shook her head. “Not just me. And I—”
    That was all she could do. Her voice broke, her knees gave out, and it suddenly crashed in on her, a rush of terror and emotion.
    Deacon caught her. Trust me, Rosie. Let go.
    She wasn’t sure if he said it, or if she just knew he would hold her. As he lifted her against him, she wrapped them in darkness and carried them home.

CHAPTER 24
    Deacon held her through the morning. Hell—he held her, made love to her like a madman, fed from her throat as if starved. When mid-afternoon came and she sighed, the soft sound ripped his heart from his chest.
    They were done. He watched as she sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, his gaze drinking in the beautiful curve of her back, the sway of her hair.
    She glanced over her shoulder with a wicked smile, her dark eyes lively. “I am supposed to meet Gemma at the florist’s, and then accompany her while she shops for wedding favors. But if you say the word, I will stay here.”
    He almost gave in to temptation. But dragging this out would just make it harder. Sitting up, he braced his shoulders against the headboard. “Go on and do your thing, princess.”
    A teasing grin widened her mouth. “Now that I can use my Gift again, you could come with us.”
    He shook his head. “I’m packing up.”
    Her grin vanished, and her brow puckered, as if she thought she’d misheard him. “What?”
    “Come sunset, I’m hauling off. There’s no reason to drag this