Demon Bound

isolation—“to judge correctly. I wondered if my desire to think the best of her was clouding my vision.”
    “And here I was wondering if you wanted to think the best of Anaria because she’s Michael’s sister.”
    Alice smiled. “I want to think well of Michael, but I do not feel a blind loyalty that extends to everything—or everyone—related to him.” How odd, though, that she had begun to assume—blindly, perhaps—that Jake would always attempt to do what was right. With regard to his actions, she was certain that she would always jump to the best conclusion.
    If not always the expected one.
    Jake’s gaze held hers before dropping to her mouth. “Keep your eyes open, goddess. You watch the hellhound, I’ll watch the door. And it’ll help if you tilt your head. But if you don’t, I’ll compensate for it. You’ll be able to see past me.”
    While kissing him. Alice’s heart seemed to slide into her belly, and lifted again when she rose up on her toes. She would not waste this opportunity. “I—”
    “Don’t talk,” he said softly. But his head stopped its descent, and he waited, listening.
    “I only intended to say that I wish you’d thought of this earlier.”
    “Okay. Now, quiet.” Would he still be smiling when he touched his mouth to hers? She held her breath, watching, until he reminded her, “The hellhound, Alice.”
    The puppy stared back at her with three pairs of eyes, and Alice was wishing that she’d had a door to watch instead, when she felt a light brush against the corner of her lips. Perhaps he’d missed while looking the other way. She adjusted the angle of her head, searching for his mouth, but he’d already found hers again, a warm press full against her lips.
    What heaven this was. Dear God, but she felt so very much for him—she could not even name all of the emotions tumbling within her.
    How was it, she wondered, that the pounding of her heart didn’t shake her entire body? Or that this gentleness didn’t leave her frustrated, but filled her with the sweetest content?
    Content, though they stood in Hell. How could that possibly be?
    His hand skimmed over her hair from her crown to her waist, a tender exploration that felt more intimate than the kiss. He lifted the strands, letting them fall slowly through his fingers, sweeping softly against her back.
    Alice rested her palm against his chest, then sighed her disappointment as Jake drew away, his shoulder blocking her view.
    It was, she realized, the same view she would have if ever she lay beneath him.
    Desire whipped through her, lashing at her nerves with heated flicks, and she closed her eyes. Oh, dear. Perhaps there was frustration in this, after all.
    “Hey.” His breath traipsed lightly over her cheek. “You okay?”
    Her nod, she knew, probably seemed very short, and her spine very rigid. “Yes. I am simply attempting to understand how that did not open a portal.”
    Dear heavens, how she’d come to love the deep sound of his laugh. Like the rumble of an engine, caught by fits and starts. And the way it took over his face, lit his eyes the most brilliant blue.
    She would kiss him again, she decided. Perhaps even drag him into the bathing chamber, put up the shielding spell, and push him against the wall. If they went quickly, two Guardians at full speed, surely it would take no more time than the kiss had.
    But she wasted precious seconds imagining it. His laughter died; shrieks pierced the chamber. And as Alice called in her naginata and spun around, she consoled herself with the knowledge that her fantasies had improved of late, even if her timing had not.
    The door opened and an arrow-riddled bat streaked inside. As tall as Jake, it scrambled awkwardly across the floor on knuckles and clawed feet. It turned red eyes on them.
    The hellhound pounced. Bone crunched as she tore off the creature’s head. The stink of the bat’s blood made Alice’s eyes water, her stomach churn.
    The earsplitting sounds at the door were joined by scratching, the ring of metal. Khavi burst inside, her skin coated in the same putrid blood.
    She looked at the hellhound, and spoke in the Attic Greek. “Create a mess, Lyta. The scent must mask theirs.”
    Alice signed the translation to Jake; Khavi turned to them and continued in English, “We have not much time. Belial is visible on the horizon.” Her armor vanishing, she strode toward the second chamber. “I have erased your footprints and—What is