Demon Forged by Meljean Brook

ear, and added softly, “There has been no us for four hundred years. You know that, yet observe how easily you twisted my meaning. You say in one moment that Lilith is no threat, then say she is a threat to me. Your tongue might as well be a demon’s.”
    Irena stood motionless when he straightened. Her blood pounded in her ears; fury blurred her vision.
    But never would she strike in anger. Instead, she audibly inhaled as he moved past her, and let the pleasure she took in his subtly smoky scent slip through her psychic shields.
    Pleasure and arousal—but this time, shame did not accompany them. Olek’s scent was one of the few things the demon hadn’t been able to replicate.
    She saw the hesitation in his step, the slight turn of his head before he tightened his jaw and continued on.
    He took her fury with him.
    Her sigh was silent. She turned to watch him, the fluid sword fighter’s stride that only hinted at the explosive power coiled within. By the loose set of his shoulders, she judged that the anger driving him to compare her to a demon had faded.
    But their argument hadn’t gone unnoticed. Beyond the mouth of the hallway, Becca sat curled on one of the common room sofas, pretending to read. Though the novice’s nose was buried in the book, her eyes were too wide and her body too still. Listening, then. And if she’d understood their French—which was likely—perhaps she was wondering if Irena intended to kill Lilith.
    But Irena doubted Becca would ask. Although the novice possessed a bold mouth with anyone aged less than one or two centuries, she became a mouse around the older Guardians.
    At the end of the hall, Alejandro paused in front of one of the closed doors, turning his head as if he’d caught a scent. Irena caught up to him just as the door opened.
    Dru’s brows rose when she saw them. Her body blocked Irena’s view of the room.
    How is she? Alejandro signed.
    The healer sighed. She squeezed out of the room, followed by her novice apprentice, Pim. They carried the odors of a human and dried blood with them—Hugh, Irena recognized, and Rosalia.
    Physically, she’s fine. Mentally, we will have to wait and see. Dru rocked back and forth from the toes to the heels of her red sneakers. Usually, she bobbed; Rosalia’s condition must have been worrying her. Hugh is speaking with her now—telling her how you found her.
    Soundproofing shielded the room; with the door closed, Irena couldn’t hear anything of Hugh’s and Rosalia’s conversation. Should we give her a personal account? Irena asked.
    Dru shook her head. What you can give her is ten minutes with Hugh.
    Irena narrowed her eyes; Dru’s never lost their friendly expression, but her voice dared Irena to argue when she shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat and repeated, “Ten minutes.”
    The healer would fight her if she didn’t comply, Irena knew. Dru only appeared bubbly and soft, as if she was composed of smiles and laughter. But when she’d specialized with Irena almost twenty years earlier, the healer had revealed a stubborn streak comparable to a deaf ox. Every time Irena had severed one of the healer’s limbs—teaching Dru to fight through that shocking loss—Dru had simply reattached it, despite Irena’s commands to the contrary.
    Dru had been one of Irena’s favorite assignments.
    “Ten minutes,” she agreed.
    Dru nodded. “I’ll be downstairs if I’m needed. Pim?”
    The novice hurried after the healer, the expression on her round face open and awed before she caught up to Dru and began gesturing wildly, questioning Dru’s method of removing the bone shards from Rosalia’s brain and rebuilding her skull. The novice’s awe went far beyond appreciation for the healer’s skill, and Irena wondered if Dru had realized yet that Pim was in love with her.
    And she wondered if she and Olek were the only two Guardians who looked outside Caelum and the vampire communities for their bed-partners. They had that in