Demon Forged

me.”
    She did. Dropping her left wing, she slipped past a needle-thin spire stabbing high into the air above Caelum. She’d once known a Guardian who’d impaled himself on it.
    “You take everything on yourself, Olek. A rock turns, and your honor is destroyed for four hundred years. You plan to deceive thousands of humans by continuing a demon’s deception, and your honor is not touched.”
    “Millions of humans,” he corrected softly. Too softly. His anger had risen as hot as hers. “And it was not the rock. It was you, offering yourself in trade for my life. And yesterday, I discover that what he did was worse than either of us thought it would be.”
    “That trade was never about you. I had to do it no matter the feelings between us—and I would have done the same for anyone with a knife at their throat.” Her breath hitched painfully in her chest. “And you would have made exactly the same choice if I had been in your position, even if I begged you not to do it.”
    His eyes darkened. Alejandro must see that she spoke the truth. And she knew that if their positions had been reversed, he would never have thought she was dishonored. And she . . . would have hated herself for falling, for placing him in a position where that terrible decision had to be made.
    “And my decision is not about you, Irena. Rael must die, but we must be able to keep the resources we have through SI. And so I will take his place, despite the feelings between us.” Though his voice was even, his tone stung like the lash of a whip. “But do not tell me that what you felt had no influence. You would have held out against the demon if you had not wanted me.”
    Irena snapped upright, hovering. Her throat burned, tight with tears and shame. “ You tell me. Tell me that you wish I didn’t want you. That you wish I hadn’t loved you.”
    His face whitened. He stared at her, motionless but for the quiet beat of his wings that held him aloft.
    “Tell me, Olek, that you would trade all of my shame and take back your honor in exchange for my heart.”
    “I cannot,” he admitted hoarsely. “I would wish both of us through Hell first.”
    So would she. Her laugh was short and bitter. “If you step into a demon’s role, you will take us there.”
    This time, fury paled his skin. He turned away from her, and silently dove toward her courtyard. Irena followed him, vanished her wings, and dropped the last few feet, landing in a crouch.
    He glanced back at her as she pushed her Gift into steel, forming his new swords. She tossed the weapons to him. “They are yours.”
    Alejandro hefted their weight, his displeasure obvious. “Why the alterations?”
    “You have used the same swords for four hundred years. They no longer suit you.”
    “Perhaps not. But I’m accustomed to them.”
    She sneered and called in her knives. “Can you not use other weapons?”
    “I can. But there is no reason.”
    “There is . Your old swords do not fit, and I will not make any more for you. So you had best learn these.”
    His jaw clenched. Then he lifted his left sword, sweeping his right behind him. “Then we begin.”
    Fighting did not release her anger. Seconds stretched into minutes, and it only grew harder, shining brilliantly, like the sharp edge of a diamond. She blocked his every strike with her knife. He feinted low. She whipped around, plowed her elbow into his stomach. When he bent over, she smashed the back of her head to his face.
    She didn’t get a chance to follow through. His blade slipped in from the side and pressed against her throat. She froze, and he laughed softly into her ear. She scented the blood on his breath.
    “These are good swords, Irena.”
    He pushed against her. His erection prodded against her back.
    She almost stumbled. What was this? A moment ago, he hadn’t been aroused. There had only been anger between them, and the fight. Until she’d hit him.
    His thigh pushed between hers. His lips skimmed the side of her neck, unexpected heat that plunged straight through to her core. Her knees weakened.
    She reached back, yanked his hair. Alejandro instantly reacted. He vanished his swords and his hand dove down, cupping her sex. He lifted her up to grind between her legs from behind. A cry wrenched from her, shocked and desperate for more.
    “Again,” Alejandro commanded.
    She tore out of his grip, faced him. “What is this?”
    With the edge of his thumb, he wiped blood from his bottom lip. “I do not yet