Demon Blood

let yourself be raped. You’ll fuck me because you want my help. But you won’t let yourself come. That’s some sick shit, sister, any way you twist it. And you can count me out of your goddamn plan, because I’m not going to be a part of this.”
    This was what he’d meant by How far? And he’d asked her to kiss him to find out. Not driven by his bloodlust or his arousal, but driven to prove a point.
    And he’d missed it by a mile.
    She glanced over her shoulder, found him standing rigidly beside the car. The tightness in her throat and chest almost choked her, but she spoke past it. “I wouldn’t have let him rape me. When you arrived, I was a moment away from punching through his head—and for that, I’m disappointed in myself. I thought I’d sacrifice more. But when it came down to a poke between my legs and saving everyone from the nephilim, I tossed the world away.”
    His brows drew together. She felt his astonishment, saw the darkening of his expression as surprise turned to rejection. “That’s fucked-up, Rosie.”
    An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up. She swallowed it down and turned away from him again. “Maybe.”
    “So what the hell were you doing with me? Were you proving to yourself that you could sacrifice and take that poke between your legs?”
    He hadn’t considered that she might want him? What was lower—his opinion of her or of himself?
    “I was doing what I wanted to since I met you. What were you doing?”
    He didn’t answer. His silence stabbed at her. God, she’d been so stupid. To think that he might feel any desire in return. No matter the reason he’d commanded her to kiss him, she’d believed something had changed along the way. But while she’d been losing control, he’d been . . . testing to see if she’d whore herself for the cause.
    She’d said it didn’t matter what anyone thought of her. But she did. And it hurt.
    Pale yellow light began to shine against her legs. Her eyes, glowing as she lost control to her emotions. She never did that. She suddenly, desperately needed him to leave, before he witnessed that, too.
    So he’d managed to do one thing: She had discovered how far she would go.
    “All right, Deacon,” she said, and almost didn’t recognize her own voice. She felt as if dirty rags had been shoved into her chest. “Count yourself out. I’ll figure out another way.”
    She heard his sigh, and the regret in it. “Rosie—”
    “Go. I’ll call ahead. The plane is yours. I won’t even check to see where you went. You’re free of me.”
    “Goddammit. At least let me—”
    “Apologize? Fine. I accept it. You don’t owe me anything else, so go on.” She didn’t hear him leave. Maybe he needed words he could understand. Words he’d thrown at her before. “We’re done. So get the fuck out of my face.”
    Still no movement behind her. Only the beat of his heart.
    “Haul off, Deacon.” To her horror, her voice broke.
    But it got him moving when words alone could not. She heard the crunch of gravel beneath his feet as he walked onto the road. The car started, and a moment later, he drove away.
    Oh, God. What had she done?
    She closed her eyes, which had begun shining like a beacon. Hugging her knees up to her chest, holding on to the darkness, she prayed. Oh, God, oh, God. The refrain remained the only light in her mind, and she begged Him to help her bear the pain, to help her formulate another plan.
    She had no idea what she was going to do now.

CHAPTER 10
    Rosalia couldn’t sit and cry forever. Prayer steadied her, but she’d already been gifted with strength of heart and mind so that she could help herself. And putting a new plan into motion would take time—but the vampires in London didn’t have much.
    With a deep breath, Rosalia gathered herself, and brought in her satellite phone from her cache. She had to contact the plane’s charter service. No doubt Deacon would want to head to Paris and continue on with Theriault.
    The alert for a waiting connection sounded as soon as she opened the phone. The number linked to the surveillance van. Panic fluttered in Rosalia’s chest. Gemma had been watching St. Croix. Had something happened?
    The phone transmitted video in addition to audio. She engaged both, and a moment later, Vin’s face filled the screen. He wasn’t supposed to be there.
    She couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice. “Is Gemma all right?”
    “Yes. But she’s been throwing up and decided to stay at the