Demon Forged

trousers draped over her opposite arm. “I brought clothes.”
    Deacon strode to the foot of the bed, where he’d tossed his pants that morning. “I’ve got clothes.”
    Her lips pursed, casting her opinion on the wrinkled fabric. “ Clean clothes.” Her hips on full swing, she joined him beside the bed. “I can take yours, and they’ll be pressed and ready for tomorrow. You’ll need at least one change while you’re here. Unless you expect to go shopping soon?”
    Jesus. He’d rather not. And it was hard to argue with her reasoning. “All right.”
    “Good.” His clothes vanished, replaced by the clean suit, a snowy white shirt, and underclothes. Rosalia sat on the bed next to the pile, selected a pair of black socks, and began picking at the tiny string connecting them. “I went back to Rome.”
    He’d been about to tell her to haul off, but that stopped him. “To the church?”
    “Not the church you found me in. But there was a church, and everything and everyone there was as they should be.” Her smile faded. “I found no vampires, though.”
    Had she thought her brother might have survived? He wondered if she’d hoped to find him or if she dreaded it.
    “Do you think your brother knew you were down there with the nosferatu?”
    A faint, unreadable smile touched her lips. “Oh, yes.”
    “He made a deal with them?”
    She actually laughed. “A nosferatu wouldn’t make a deal with a vampire.”
    No. Nosferatu hated vampires too much—saw them as an abomination. “Then who . . . ?”
    “A demon.”
    His blood chilled. “You think your brother made a deal with a demon—and the demon made another deal with the nosferatu?”
    “Yes.” She leaned back. Her warm brown eyes seemed to see through him. “Lorenzo should have known better than to get involved with a demon. It never ends well. It especially never ends well for vampires.”
    He gave her a sharp glance, but couldn’t read anything behind her slight smile. “Now there’s no Lorenzo, no vampires. I suppose you won’t be going back to Rome.”
    “Oh, I’ll return. I still have obligations to fulfill.”
    Well, he wasn’t going to ask what. And he didn’t want to be standing around much longer with her leaning back on his bed like that, the hem of her dress riding high on her thighs. He might be bothered by what she’d just told him, but the bloodlust didn’t care. As it was, he was thankful he’d come out of the bathroom holding his towel bunched in the front.
    “How about you go get started on those obligations?”
    “I am.” The bed creaked as she sat up. “I have your dinner.”
    He allowed himself a glance at her neck. He could dream. “I thought Irena had it.”
    “She did, but she was going into a meeting. I offered to bring it instead.” Two tall glasses appeared in her hands. She hefted one, then the other. “Nosferatu or demon?”
    The scent hit him. His fangs ached. “Nosferatu.”
    Her brow creased. “Are you sure? Too many days of this, and your mind won’t be sharp.”
    Yes, but another day or two on living blood would bring him back to normal. “I’ll take that chance.”
    He’d take any chance that the nosferatu blood would make him even stronger than it already had.
    “Did it have any effect yesterday?”
    He nodded his head, still amazed by it. A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. It did.”
    A hell of an effect. After leaving Polidori’s, he’d returned to the warehouse and joined Echo and Ben sparring in the gym. Older than Echo and Ben, he’d already been stronger, but he judged his speed had increased by half.
    His smile faded. Then he’d asked them about accessing the Internet. Ben had helped him secure a laptop from the tech room for his personal use—and Deacon had come upstairs, written out everything he’d learned about Ames-Beaumont, and e-mailed it to Caym.
    Rosalia leaned toward him, handing over the glass. “Then I guess it must be worth it.”
    Her forward movement made her breasts sway. Jesus. Deacon turned his back to her and downed the blood in a few long swallows. There was no reason to savor the taste. As incredible as the scent was, the blood had no flavor.
    And it didn’t matter that drinking soothed both the hunger and the bloodlust. The combination of Rosalia and the scent left him rock hard.
    He continued facing the wall. “You’ve got one second to get out of here, sister, and then I’m dropping the towel.”
    “That sounds like reason to