Demon Blood

more.”
    It was so low and hoarse, she barely heard it. And she couldn’t bear to hear any more. Her tears were coming now, and she couldn’t hold them back.
    “I need you to go, Deacon.”
    His pain slashed against her psychic shields. Through the blur of her vision, she saw a motion that might have been a nod. But he didn’t get up.
    “Deacon, please —”
    “I’m trying to think of any reason.” Longing and loss wavered through the broken whisper. “Any reason that you might let me stay long enough to prove myself to you.”
    For God’s sake, she loved him! What more proof did he need that he was worthy?
    She didn’t have this strength. To argue again. To not be believed again. She tried to summon her anger—anything to get her through this. “You don’t have anything to prove.”
    “I do . I didn’t trust your love. I didn’t believe you. And so when I say that I love you, you will have no reason to trust mine.” His fists clenched at his side. “So I need time . . . I am begging for time . . . so that you can believe.”
    She could not believe. But she hoped. She flew forward, fell to her knees in front of him, tried to look up into his lowered face. “You love me?”
    He raised his head. His body stiffened, as if bracing for a blow. “More than my life.”
    Oh, God. Oh, God.
    She surged upward on a wave of joy, catching his face between her palms, melding her lips to his. Laughing and crying at once, she could barely kiss him, but his mouth was just as awkward, almost unsure, until she felt the acceptance and wonder flooding his psychic scent. Then his strong arms wrapped her tight, his hands cradling her head, and he kissed her deep, hard, as if to convince himself that she was there, that this was real.
    She had to convince herself of it, too. Rosalia pulled back, her gaze searching his, her fingers confirming his face, his throat, his hair.
    He bent to her again, gently kissed her wet cheeks. “Don’t cry, Rosie.”
    His soft touch, the love she heard in his voice only made the tears fall harder. “I’m happy,” she assured him.
    He looked into her eyes. “I see you are,” he said, low and rough, and his green eyes were suddenly swimming; then he was kissing her again, hard and sweet, and she never wanted him to stop.
    But she had to know, had to hear it from his lips. She broke away just enough to say, “You are staying here with me?”
    “Yeah. You’re stuck with me now, princess.”
    “Oh, good.” She kissed him again, laughing, then teasing his fangs and nibbling at his bottom lip, before taking a deep breath. “I’ll always be a little managing, Deacon. I can’t help it. I have a . . . a need to help those I love.”
    “The love bit makes it a lot easier.” He lifted his head, looked down at her. “Just, not behind my back. All right?”
    Perfectly. “Yes.”
    “And I should tell you—I’d have come earlier, Rosie. But I thought that you might be at your most desperate and lonely right after the wedding, when everyone left. And that I’d have a better chance.”
    She grinned against his lips. “You manipulative bastard.”
    He laughed and kissed her, but his gaze was serious when he regarded her again. “No one will ever love you more than I do, or work harder to see you happy. No one will try every moment to be the man worthy of your love.”
    “You are.”
    “I’ll make certain I always am. I swear it.”
    She believed him. Laying her hand against his cheek, she promised, “I’ll love you no matter what you go through; I’ll stand by you no matter what trouble you face. And no matter what I face, I’ll know you’ll love me. That will never be in question.”
    Deacon nodded, then rested his forehead against hers. His eyes closed, and she felt him breathe her in. “I love you, Rosie.”
    “Tell me again.”
    He said it with a soft kiss. His arms, holding her close. Then the words, again, before a wicked smile touched his mouth.
    “Unless I’ve told you to be there, Rosie, I don’t like seeing you on your knees.” Rising to his feet, he swung her up, cradling her against his chest. His lips touched hers, then deepened into a kiss that left them both breathless, hungry. When he lifted his head, she looked up at him, and he narrowed his eyes. “So what have you got planned for us now? I know you’re working something out in there.”
    She laughed. So she had been. An endless lifetime, new beginnings, and so many possibilities stretched out in