Demon Blood

her about vanity, until she told him how many demons’ throats she’s slashed open with those heels.”
    Deacon could believe it. Even holding back, Rosalia put his own bladework to shame. To his surprise, the human might have, too. “Gemma’s good.”
    “She’d have taken gold in Beijing, if she’d gone. But she doesn’t compete anymore.”
    If she’d gone?
    Ah. Because earlier that year, before the Summer Games had begun, the nephilim had killed everyone here, leaving her alone. Yeah, that could have thrown her off stride. Deacon wasn’t sure if he knew of anyone who could have bounced back from that in a few months.
    “Where were you?”
    Vin’s jaw tightened. “Not here.” He stood as the women finished—Gemma out of breath, and Rosalia with a brilliant smile.
    “Deacon.” Her gaze ran over him. “I see you found everything.”
    “Yes.” Since thinking back to how he’d found his clothes was bringing his grief up to the surface again, he moved on quick. “What’s on for tonight?”
    As if she heard a little grief in his voice, she cocked her head and studied him before turning to Vin. “You two are going out?”
    “Dinner by candlelight . . . and then a romantic evening in the van.”
    Rosalia laughed. “The last night, I think—and we should not be too long. I can take over the watch before it grows very late.”
    Her soft smile remained as she watched them retreat into Gemma’s room, and as she looked to Deacon.
    “I suppose you will want your dinner as well.” A bag of blood appeared in her hand. “I would put them all into the icebox so that you can feed at will, but this is the last one. We should receive another shipment from San Francisco tomorrow.”
    “And if they don’t send it?”
    She turned toward the kitchen, and he couldn’t read her face when she said, “Then we’ll make other arrangements.”
    He could only hope those arrangements included Rosalia spread out on a table.
    With fruit piled in ceramic bowls, and the faint scent of cinnamon and cloves, the kitchen appeared just as warm and lived-in as the other rooms within the abbey, though he assumed only Gemma must have been a regular user.
    Deacon discovered he was wrong. After Rosalia set a tall glass in front of him, she pulled out a plate and a peach. A paring knife appeared in her hand, and she sliced around the fruit before rotating it open.
    She took a bite, and he couldn’t decide which appeared more succulent: her mouth or that peach.
    Mistaking the reason for his attention, she said, “Eating became a habit when Gemma’s grandmother first came to work for me. By the time Vin, Gemma, and Pasquale arrived, it was a good habit.”
    Whereas he couldn’t even taste food. He lifted his glass. “Well, I appreciate the company. Otherwise I’d be desperate and lonely.”
    As an apology, it wasn’t worth much, but her smile could knock a man off his feet. His weren’t all that steady when she gestured to the courtyard.
    “Shall we eat out there?”
    They didn’t have candlelight, but the moon filled in. He followed her to the fountain, where she straddled the stone bench and used the length of seat in front of her to make a table. He swung his leg over the other end, facing her, and took a swig of the blood. Living, it felt like a jolt of electricity across his tongue.
    His hunger sharpened. He needed a distraction, and latched onto the unfamiliar name she’d mentioned back in the kitchen. “Pasquale? That’s another kid who lived here?”
    “Gemma’s brother. Vincente’s best friend.” She looked down at her fingers. “He’s gone.”
    Another vampire? That didn’t surprise him. Surrounded by immortals, why wouldn’t a young man try to become one? “And another reason for taking out the nephilim?”
    “No. This happened more than a decade ago. He was attempting to become a Guardian.”
    Which meant sacrificing himself in some way. Christ, that must have been one hell of a blow. “But he didn’t.”
    “No. And it was . . . a difficult time. For all of us.” He’d become accustomed to seeing sadness in her eyes, but now he heard the same emotion in her voice, almost drowned in it. She fell silent for a moment, then looked up at him again. “So do you go first, or do I?”
    “Giving our reason of the day?”
    “Mmm-hmm,” she hummed around a bit of peach.
    He could have said her mouth had been a reason to come back. Her blood. An opportunity to find out more about her. He skipped all