The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

slapped me and refused to speak to me any more. But we had made plans for the Feast of Saint Joseph and I would not abandon her simply because she no longer wanted anything to do with me. At least, that’s what I told myself. In truth, I just didn’t want to be away from her, not even for a moment. I wanted her for myself, and I was unaccustomed to wanting for anything.”
    “How did she come back to you? Or did she?” Katrina asked, settling her nerves with another sip from her glass.
    A half-smile touched Kyle’s lips. “Demons are patient,” he said. “And again, time passes differently in the mortal realm, and though it was only hours to me without her, it was days to her. But even a mortal hour can seem an eternity when your soul is cut to the core, and I knew I had hurt her deeply. Why that concerned me, I didn’t know. I didn’t know demons could love.”
    “Demons can love?” Katrina echoed, her brow furrowing.
    Kyle nodded lightly, then shook his head. “Well, no, not truly,” he clarified. “Our father made us in his image, as he had been made. Although he had been given a heart, his envy and hatred of Man twisted it. When he created his own children, he had to duplicate his own form, though he made the hearts he gave us small, hard and virtually useless so that we might never discover we had one. If we did, he feared we would begin to question him, as he had questioned his own Father. We would no longer truly be demons. We would become obsolete in a sense. I was the lord of his demons, and I had discovered my heart, though I did not know it yet.”
    Kyle took a sip from his glass and waited. He could sense her question, but let her phrase it for herself.
    “So what did you do?” Katrina asked.
    “The only thing I could think to do,” Kyle replied. “I went to see her, one last time, to tell her she didn’t have to worry about seeing me again, if that’s what she wanted. I had no wish to harm her, or see her come to harm, or have her be afraid of me.”
    Kyle ran a finger absently around the rim of his crystal goblet.
    “She was waiting for me, and chastised me for being late to accompany her to the church. She had to make her offering upon the altar to Saint Joseph,” he said, his voice steady though it was clear the words hurt him to say as he relived the memory. “She thought I’d forgotten and, in truth, I had. But I went with her, and when we arrived, we stopped outside the churchyard.
    “She told me everything she’d been thinking. Her thoughts had always been sacrosanct to me - I had never pried into them or allowed myself to hear them. I remember realizing that at that moment, as she spoke. She told me her feelings. All I could do was listen. I’d dropped to my knees when she reached to touch my face and, when I looked up at her, all I could do was apologize and beg her forgiveness for causing her grief.”
    Kyle hesitated then, but Katrina heard him force himself to continue.
    “She asked me to please rise, as I was making her uncomfortable kneeling on the ground. I offered to come with her into the church, even knowing I could not, though for her I would try. If only she would forgive me for everything . . . for being what I was. I told her that I hadn’t ever lied to her - as ridiculous as that sounds coming from a demon in a mortal body.”
    Kyle paused again, and Katrina could see him visibly struggling to maintain his composure. She waited patiently until he found it and continued.
    “She kissed me then, leaning down to do so,” he said softly. “Right there in front of anyone who cared to look. Her. An unmarried, pious woman, virtuous and sweet, kissing a son of the devil she spent her life avoiding. Oh, it was chaste, even for that time, but still. The bravery. The audacity. And the moment it ended, I heard inhuman laughter.”
    Katrina bit her lip again to keep from asking questions, but she had a fair idea as to what happened next. After all, Kyle was here, and his Catrine wasn’t.
    Kyle was silent as well, looking unseeingly into his glass. After a long moment, he looked up at Katrina. His pale, sea-green eyes were filled with obvious anguish, but no tears fell. None could. He didn’t have any to shed.
    “We had been found out, some time before. A young initiate, a low-ranking demon trying to earn a name for himself, had been spying on me - on us - and reporting back to my father. I hadn’t had a clue about it. I’d been focused solely on my need of