Demon Bound

actions reflect what you believe, there is nothing that could taint you. We could discover that Michael’s only purpose is to enslave every human on Earth, and it would not make our fight less worthy—it would only mean that we would begin to wage our war against him, as well. And that is why I made you these.”
    She opened her fingers, and lifted a pair of platinum tags by the chain.
    “Dog tags?” His breath seemed shallow as he cupped them in his palm, used his other hand to turn them over.
    She hadn’t known what to inscribe, so she’d only had Irena write his name, with “Guardian” below it. “Yes. I have heard it is customary for soldiers to have these. I thought you should have a pair now that you’re fighting a war you can believe in.”
    Jake turned them over again in his palm.
    She twisted her fingers together. “If you want something else written—”
    “No.” His voice was thick. “No. It’s just right.”
    Relief shuddered through her, and she held up her hands. “May I?”
    He nodded. His gaze never left her face as she placed the chain over his head. She sighed when the tags jingled.
    “They make noise. They’ll give your location away.”
    “Let them find me. They aren’t coming off.”
    She touched the tags, then let her forefingers separate and follow the curving line of his pectorals. “Perhaps I can wrap them in a transparent web to muffle the sound.”
    “Alice. Jesus, Alice. You can do whatever you want. I’m such a dick. I don’t have anything to give you. Except this.” Jake caught her right hand, pressed it flat over his heart. “But the truth is, it’s already yours.”
    Oh, God. Oh, dear God. Her chest tightened unbearably. She pressed her lips to the hand over hers, his throat, his mouth.
    He cupped her cheek and lingered over the kiss, slowing it before lifting his head. “You’re afraid.”
    And in front of that keen gaze, so exposed. Without moving her hand from over his pounding heart, she slid around his arm, held him with her cheek against the back of his shoulder.
    It had been so simple before. One look at Henry, and love had fallen neatly into its place—and had eventually been battered and squeezed and bruised by every other emotion crowding around it.
    But with Jake . . .
    She raised her head, opened her eyes. With Jake, it would not settle, no matter how long she waited. No, her love for him was not a small piece to be put in its place. It shifted and changed, was both made up of her emotions and more than the combination: a complicated web whose pattern and texture altered as threads were weaved in or cut—but always remaining a web.
    And even the razor threads were silk.
    Turning her head, she kissed his shoulder. His heart beat steadily beneath her hand; Jake stood motionless, but his posture wasn’t rigid as he waited for her to speak.
    Comfortable with his feelings. Secure in himself. And likely with more confidence in her than she had.
    She traced the fingers of her right hand down the hollow of his spine, and watched his muscles flex in the wake of her touch. The whole of her body seemed to react in the same way, as if the warmth of his skin seeped into her through her fingertips. “Oh, dear.”
    Jake turned his head to look over his shoulder, his brows lifted.
    “Since the moment you teleported to Kansas, I have not been able to go more than a few minutes without having a salacious thought. Even when I ought to be attending to other thoughts.”
    He grinned and faced forward again, and she marveled at how his neck looked just as strong and masculine with the chain against it. Strange, but she supposed that although it was a necklace, it was not jewelry.
    “Are you having one now?”
    “Not salacious. Admiring.” She skimmed her fingers over his shoulder blade. “I wonder that you do not wear your wings. I would find it very difficult not to wear them even while on Earth.”
    “They’re a little too stubby for that, goddess.”
    Stubby? He could not be serious. “You lost them so that I would not be hurt. Because you knelt when you could have easily jumped—when you had to fight not to jump. It was the bravest act I have ever witnessed, and while they heal, your wings are a visible badge of your courage. I would wear them, and wave them, and parade myself through the streets of Caelum.”
    Jake made a strangled noise, and his shoulders began shaking.
    Alice sighed. “The tags even jingle when you laugh. But you should not