Demon Forged

room hosted a desk and bureau pushed up against bare walls. Opposite the bed, a door stood ajar; through it, he could see a sink and the frosted glass front of a shower stall. He’d wash, but it wouldn’t matter—his suit smelled like the woman he’d fucked in Rome. Deacon hadn’t wanted her, but the bloodlust hadn’t given him any choice. And it marked the first time he’d been with a woman he hadn’t desired—or at least been friends with. Bloodlust had never been a curse before.
    But it was one he’d use to his advantage tonight.
    Five minutes later, he finished in the bathroom, donned his wrinkled clothes again, and stepped out into the hall.
    The scent of blood struck him at the same time as the hoots of laughter. He looked toward the sound, rubbing his tongue against his fangs to soothe his stirring hunger. The hall opened into a large rec room, with sofas and sitting areas anchored by blue and green rugs, a huge oak entertainment center against one wall, and a game table at the center of it all. Around the table sat two vampires, and three others—Deacon couldn’t tell if they were humans or Guardians.
    A dark-haired woman reached forward and gave a water bottle a spin. It came to a rest pointing at the female vampire, who grimaced, squeezed her eyes shut, and held out her hand. After a tiny hesitation—filled by the claps and cries of the others that You can do it! —the first woman whipped a dagger out of nowhere and sliced through the vampire’s fingers. They dropped to the table in a spurt of blood. The others cheered.
    Jesus. He’d seen sicker games in his life, but he hadn’t expected something like this here. The cheering quieted as he entered the rec room, and everyone looked toward him but the vampire and a different woman, her black hair cut in a sleek bowl.
    The second vampire, a tall, wiry male permanently in his mid-twenties, stood and stuck out his hand.
    Deacon cast a glance at the stairs, but realized he couldn’t avoid this. He took the vampire’s hand. “Deacon.”
    “Good to meet you. I’m Ben, that’s Echo.” He pointed to the female vampire who’d just had her fingers cut off. “Pim is the one fixing her up. There’s Becca—don’t worry, she always looks at new people like that—and Randall.”
    Becca rolled her eyes. “He’s not wondering who we are, Ben; he’s wondering what the fuck we’re doing.” She nodded to the female Guardian who was holding a severed forefinger to the stump, her face a picture of concentration. “Pim’s practicing her healing Gift. We’re growing balls and helping her out.”
    Pim muffled a laugh. “Literally?”
    Becca flipped her the bird. “You wish.”
    Echo forced a smile through some obvious pain. “Luckily, growing balls isn’t an option for us, because they’d probably just want to cut them off.”
    There was some snickering, but Deacon stared as a warm, uncertain power pushed against his mind, and the vampire’s finger reattached to her hand without a single mark to show for it. A healing Gift. Christ. These three kids were novice Guardians, and each one could twist him into a pretzel. But he hadn’t known they could heal each other.
    He watched for a few minutes longer before excusing himself—before they could ask him to volunteer.
    At the bottom of the stairs waited the Guardian he’d met in Rome. Irena’s friend who had enough names for a freaking prince—Alejandro de Something la Something. A prince who’d barbequed a nosferatu without a change of his expression or an increase in his heartbeat.
    Yeah. All of these Guardians could take care of themselves just fine.
    Alejandro inclined his head in greeting. So polite. “Irena should be here presently.”
    “Great.” Deacon glanced down another hall and spotted the one man he’d been told to avoid—Hugh Castleford, a human who could detect lies. Which meant Deacon would say whatever it took to get out quickly and to stop Alejandro from trying to delay him. “Is she going to feed me herself?”
    “I believe she already answered you.”
    Yeah, and considering the vibe this Guardian and Irena had been giving off in Rome, Deacon bet Alejandro hadn’t liked the question much. “You’re right—she prefers them big and blond, doesn’t she? And after she rode one of my vampires so hard that Karl was still limping the next day, I’m not about to offer myself up for the same.” Deacon paused. “And you know whose name Karl said she was calling at