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Authors: Meljean Brook
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leaving bothered him.
Or so he preferred to believe. Maybe they would believe it, too. “I apologize. Irena and I have been friends long enough that we no longer spare our tongues.”
Perhaps Castleford, with his ability to read lies, detected Alejandro’s. For although it was true that he and Irena didn’t spare their tongues, it was more accurate to say they could not control their tongues.
Or he could not. He didn’t think Irena tried to.
But Castleford only looked to Rosalia again. “Obviously, not everyone is pleased with the arrangement.”
“Yes.”
She rose from the bed and approached Alejandro, her arms crossed beneath her breasts and her hands tucked into the crooks of her elbows.
She fussed , he suddenly remembered. During her specialization with him, she’d had a habit of absentmindedly—almost maternally—straightening his clothing or his hair. Not just his, but anyone of her acquaintance.
And he hadn’t shown her his discomfort then, just as he didn’t step back now.
Of course, then he’d been waiting for Irena to return. Rosalia had specialized with him during the second century Irena had been away from Caelum, when any other woman’s touch had still been unwelcome. Only after she’d come back, after she’d spoken to him in French as she would a stranger, after he’d realized that too much damage had been done and no amount of time could heal it . . . only then had he looked at another woman.
And now . . . now was no different.
Except that although Rosalia’s gaze ran over his hair and his shirt, her hands remained tucked. She turned her face as if studying the windowless walls and walked slowly past him, her bare feet pale against the dark wood floor.
She’d never have any memory of how the nosferatu had used her. Alejandro couldn’t decide if that was better than knowing. Perhaps the details that her imagination filled in weren’t as bad as the unknown reality.
Perhaps they were worse.
“How are the demons different?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Some follow Lucifer and some follow Belial, but they have never been different in any significant way. Has that changed, as well?”
If her tone had been harsh and fueled by frustration, her question might have come from Irena. And even though Rosalia was obviously more willing to listen, Alejandro didn’t have the energy to go through it one more time.
“Their natures haven’t changed, no,” Alejandro said quietly, and inclined his head toward her former mentor. Castleford had infinite patience. As both mentor to the youngest novices and Lilith’s partner, he needed it. “But I’ll let Hugh explain how their interests have. I am glad to see you well again, Rosalia.”
She nodded. “And you.”
The moment he opened the door he regretted leaving the soundproofed room. From somewhere downstairs, Irena’s laughter hit him, swept through him. His body tightened with need, but he forced himself to walk smoothly out of the room.
Will and need. He let them wage their war.
Finding Rosalia as they had brought too much too close to the surface. The Guardians often fought demons and nosferatu. Battles were quick and fierce and bloody. It wasn’t unusual that Guardians were injured or killed. But it wasn’t common that Guardians were violated in the way that Rosalia had been . . . as Irena had been.
No, the demons’ natures hadn’t changed. They just rarely got the opportunity to have a Guardian helpless and unable to fight back.
Or bound by a bargain that prevented her from fighting back.
Pim had joined Becca in the common room. When they saw him, discomfort squirmed through their psychic scents. Alejandro had little doubt they’d been discussing the argument Becca had witnessed. But did they truly think Irena would kill Lilith?
Biting back his irritated sigh, he nodded at both of them, then looked toward the corridor that led to the southwest corner of the building. At the end of the corridor was a room
Or so he preferred to believe. Maybe they would believe it, too. “I apologize. Irena and I have been friends long enough that we no longer spare our tongues.”
Perhaps Castleford, with his ability to read lies, detected Alejandro’s. For although it was true that he and Irena didn’t spare their tongues, it was more accurate to say they could not control their tongues.
Or he could not. He didn’t think Irena tried to.
But Castleford only looked to Rosalia again. “Obviously, not everyone is pleased with the arrangement.”
“Yes.”
She rose from the bed and approached Alejandro, her arms crossed beneath her breasts and her hands tucked into the crooks of her elbows.
She fussed , he suddenly remembered. During her specialization with him, she’d had a habit of absentmindedly—almost maternally—straightening his clothing or his hair. Not just his, but anyone of her acquaintance.
And he hadn’t shown her his discomfort then, just as he didn’t step back now.
Of course, then he’d been waiting for Irena to return. Rosalia had specialized with him during the second century Irena had been away from Caelum, when any other woman’s touch had still been unwelcome. Only after she’d come back, after she’d spoken to him in French as she would a stranger, after he’d realized that too much damage had been done and no amount of time could heal it . . . only then had he looked at another woman.
And now . . . now was no different.
Except that although Rosalia’s gaze ran over his hair and his shirt, her hands remained tucked. She turned her face as if studying the windowless walls and walked slowly past him, her bare feet pale against the dark wood floor.
She’d never have any memory of how the nosferatu had used her. Alejandro couldn’t decide if that was better than knowing. Perhaps the details that her imagination filled in weren’t as bad as the unknown reality.
Perhaps they were worse.
“How are the demons different?” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Some follow Lucifer and some follow Belial, but they have never been different in any significant way. Has that changed, as well?”
If her tone had been harsh and fueled by frustration, her question might have come from Irena. And even though Rosalia was obviously more willing to listen, Alejandro didn’t have the energy to go through it one more time.
“Their natures haven’t changed, no,” Alejandro said quietly, and inclined his head toward her former mentor. Castleford had infinite patience. As both mentor to the youngest novices and Lilith’s partner, he needed it. “But I’ll let Hugh explain how their interests have. I am glad to see you well again, Rosalia.”
She nodded. “And you.”
The moment he opened the door he regretted leaving the soundproofed room. From somewhere downstairs, Irena’s laughter hit him, swept through him. His body tightened with need, but he forced himself to walk smoothly out of the room.
Will and need. He let them wage their war.
Finding Rosalia as they had brought too much too close to the surface. The Guardians often fought demons and nosferatu. Battles were quick and fierce and bloody. It wasn’t unusual that Guardians were injured or killed. But it wasn’t common that Guardians were violated in the way that Rosalia had been . . . as Irena had been.
No, the demons’ natures hadn’t changed. They just rarely got the opportunity to have a Guardian helpless and unable to fight back.
Or bound by a bargain that prevented her from fighting back.
Pim had joined Becca in the common room. When they saw him, discomfort squirmed through their psychic scents. Alejandro had little doubt they’d been discussing the argument Becca had witnessed. But did they truly think Irena would kill Lilith?
Biting back his irritated sigh, he nodded at both of them, then looked toward the corridor that led to the southwest corner of the building. At the end of the corridor was a room
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