Demon Blood

Guardians. Of course he would—he was strong, but not so arrogant to assume that he could handle everything alone. And Irena had told Rosalia that she had been providing Deacon his blood.
    He did not need her.
    But she could not stop her pulse from racing, and the joy that a glimpse of his face brought. She steeled herself against hope, crossing her arms over her chest as if that could muffle the pounding of her heart.
    His gaze found her from across the garden, and seemed to take her in all at once, as if devouring the sight of her, hungry for it. And he looked like hell—his shirt buttoned wrong, his collar crooked, his hair in all directions. He came into the courtyard, stopping at the edge of the fountain.
    “I’m a fool, Rosie.”
    Her lips parted. That hadn’t been what she’d expected.
    Deacon took a step toward her, then stopped himself—as if determined to have it all out first. “I should have listened. I should have trusted. But I didn’t believe you loved me. And I almost threw away the best thing I’ve ever had.”
    Almost? “You did throw it away.”
    Though his gaze remained locked on her face, softly searching, his shoulders were rigid and hands curled into fists. “Yes. I did throw it away. I couldn’t imagine that the man you’d waited for, the one you’d told me about, could have been me. I couldn’t see myself like that. But I swear to you, Rosie, that I will—”
    “The man I’d waited for?” Realization swept over her, followed by sudden anger. “Camille told you?”
    Uncertainty flickered through his green eyes. His answer was low and rough. “Yes.”
    “So now you believe that I love you? Not because of anything I’ve done or said in the past weeks, but because of what was ? What you were before Caym got to you? I deserve better than that, Deacon.”
    She let her anger ride over her, so that her tears wouldn’t. She hadn’t thought she could hurt more than the day he’d pushed her heart away. But she could.
    He took a step toward her, but abruptly stopped when she backed up. He swallowed hard.
    “I know you deserve better, Rosie. You deserve the man you loved.”
    So he could believe she loved the man he’d been, but not the one that Caym broke. He saw himself as a man who betrayed and failed. She saw a man who almost destroyed himself trying to save his people, and then again trying to avenge them.
    She shook her head. “I didn’t love you then. I hoped I would, someday. I admired you. I liked you. But I didn’t love you until the night you returned here to help me.” And now she conducted a postmortem on her heart. She couldn’t do this; she would break soon. While she could still manage it, she said, “I don’t expect you to believe that or to trust it, just as you could not believe me the first time. And so we are at the same place, with no reason for you to stay. You’ve come to ask for the Guardians’ protection. Of course you have it. Now go.”
    Deacon stared at her, his throat working. Slowly, he fell to his knee and bowed his head. “I did not come to ask for your protection. I came to offer mine.”
    The hoarseness of his voice scraped her raw. It took a second for his words to penetrate, and still she did not understand.
    “What?”
    “I came to offer mine,” he repeated. “Mine, and the protection of every vampire in whose service I fight. We all pledge to protect you, Rosalia Acciaioli, and to assist you in every mission. Every need you have, we will see it fulfilled. Our swords, our lives—if ever they can protect you or help you, they are yours to call upon. We owe you more than we can ever repay. And I would stay here, to protect and help you.”
    She could not speak. He wanted to settle a debt. She understood that. But it was unnecessary. “You helped me once, Deacon. Now I have paid you back. You owe me nothing else.”
    “No. It’s not in balance.” He lifted his head, and the torment in his eyes ripped at her heart. “You deserve more, but this is what we have to give—this is what I have that is worthy of giving. Everything I am now, you gave to me. Without you, I would still have nothing.”
    “You are welcome to what you have.” She had created the plan, but he had seen it through, taken the most risks to his life and his soul. “You’ve earned it, several times over. But I deserve more.”
    More than repayment. More than gratitude. Just to be loved in return.
    He bowed his head again. “Yes. You do. So much