Nate held Jessie close to his body as they teleported, but he released the backs of Jaws and Dorian’s shirts as soon as they were safely inside TERRA. Easing Jessie into a warm bath was his last mission before he’d allow himself to collapse. He’d nearly run dry streaming the four of them at one time after going head to head with the likes of Asmodeus.

He’d nearly lost.

If Jaws hadn’t lobbed that second demon cocktail of holy water, chrism oil, and communion wine at Asmodeus, Nate wasn’t sure he’d be standing here right now.

It shook him. As a Guardian, he’d never come that close to the end of it all.

And with Jessie’s life at stake—hell, the whole world at stake if the archangel wasn’t lying—this was horrific news.

Dorian groaned and rolled to his back on the dance floor beside Jaws. “Dude, thanks for the lift, but tough landing, bro.”

Nate left them lying there and lifted Jessie into his arms. Her rhythmic sniffles chiseled his heart into slivers. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck as he shushed into her hair, carrying her upstairs into the bathroom of their loft. He turned on a dim light, set her down on the bench by the tub, and bent to remove her boots, not trusting himself to look her in the eye. He didn’t know how to face her accusation that he was as brutal as the evil he battled. Was afraid to show her how weak he felt and how distracted he was by her mere presence.

He was coming to need her.

He helped her stand, then peeled her olive cargo pants down her legs. His hands shook as they lifted to the hem of the sweatshirt Jinx had left for Jessie, along with enough practical clothes to see Jessie through the next millennium. She needed him strong, and he needed to recharge. But he couldn’t make love to her after what she’d been through. If he could get her washed up, remove that sex demon’s scent from her skin maybe he wouldn’t feel so crazed.

The demon had touched her. Kissed her.

Licked her.

His pulse rocketed, remembering it. Reliving the awful rage and helplessness he’d felt for those horrible moments when he’d grappled with Asmodeus, knowing he couldn’t help Jess. How long would it take Lachlan to heal and come back for round three?

How long would it take Asmodeus?

Even when—if—he somehow managed to overcome the archdemon, his compar’s life would always be in danger if he kept her with him. Those were the facts. His life revolved around demons.

How could he do that to her? He didn’t even deserve her.

He turned on the shower, raked the sweatshirt over her head roughly, and pushed her under the shower spray. When his gaze finally met hers, her wide, wet eyes instantly quenched his fury, leaving a liquid sense of lamentation. She wrapped her arms around her body protectively, and he wanted to die.

“I’m s-sorry,” she rasped.

His throat squeezed painfully. He hadn’t protected her from any of this, and now he’d made her think he was angry with her. He stepped into the shower fully clothed and pulled her into his arms as her tears finally came in earnest. No, he didn’t deserve her. How could she fit into his world? He could only imagine how she felt. The violence she’d seen. The abject terror of learning that monsters and demons actually existed.

And that they wanted to possess her. Hurt her.

The water sluiced down their faces as he kissed her eyes, her temples, the high cheekbones he loved. Her lips. The warm, cleansing water washed away the blood. Washed away the incubus’s scent from her bruised skin. “Forgive me, Jess. Forgive me.”

Steam rolled between them as tears ran down her face. “Scourge ran away. And my grandparents…”

He framed her pale face with his hands. “Animal spirits are too good, too pure to be possessed. Besides that, I’ve never met a wilier dog than The Scourge. He’ll hide out until we find him. And as long as Walt and Tillie haven’t ventured out, they’ll be safe. I set heavy protection wards.” And Asmodeus didn’t know anything about them yet. He hoped. “At first light of dawn, I’ll take you to them, and then we’ll track down your scrappy pooch. The demons get way more pleasure terrorizing humans than animals, okay?”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. I was worried for you.”

“You think to protect me?”

“You mock my concern.”

“No. It’s only that…” No one has ever cared. Truly cared. “I’m the Guardian, the one who protects.”

Her eyes took on a faraway look that he didn’t like. “Why is this happening?”

He paused for a moment, deciding how much to say. She deserved the truth. And as he knew very well—for better or worse—knowledge was power. “The demons are looking for a relic.”

Her eyes cleared. “A relic you guard.”

He nodded. She was so damn smart. “Long before time began, God ordered Archangel Michael to escort Lucifer to Hell for his insurrection. Angels who’d followed Lucifer’s rebellion became known as The Fallen. Their ranks form different classes of demons who wreck havoc on humanity when they have the opportunity to escape Hell and come to Earth. In addition to watching over humans, Guardians across the globe protect religious artifacts that embody divine power. Lucifer covets these holy objects because they are the keys to releasing him from his cage once and for all.”

Nate held both of her hands, watching her carefully as she processed everything.

“Is he—this Asmodeus—really Lucifer’s child?”

“Afraid so. Satan compels succubus women to visit his cage, then he rapes them to produce heirs,” he said.

“Heirs for what purpose, though? Doesn’t he want to rule Hell all by himself?”

“Indeed. But since his blood runs through the archdemons, they have a measure of his power, and he has some manner of control over them. They are the perfect lieutenants for his army. There’s no way he can win against his brother and sister archangels without a lot of backup.”

“Sister archangels?”

He shrugged. “The Bible was written in patriarchal times. There are a lot of accounts that aren’t completely accurate.”

She rubbed tired eyes. “Tell me more about your family. I know you lost a brother. Did you have other siblings?”

He tensed, though he understood that she was only trying to make sense out of senselessness. He stepped out of the shower, heedless of the puddles he left on the floor. He turned on the tub faucet, adjusting the temperature exactly how she liked it. He stared at the rapidly filling basin, not really seeing the water.

He knew different types of pain by color. A hard kick to his guts usually produced a blinding white, made all the worse by the endless hunger that twisted inside him like a living thing.

Black had always been the tormented, awful sounds he’d heard when his father slipped behind the curtain on his sisters’ side of the room late at night. Black.

Black.

Black.

He’d been shocked that his father hadn’t bled black when Nate had finally found the courage to put an end to those noises.

He flinched when Jessie’s hand touched his shoulder.

“Let’s get you soaking, and then into bed for a long overdue rest,” he said.

Her gaze ran over his wet clothes, her eyes unguarded. “Join me.” He was about to refuse, but she unhooked her bra and peeled off her underwear. “You’re hurt. Let me help you heal.”

His throat dried. She was so lovely. His gaze traced the feminine lines of her face down her neck to her shoulders, the defined clavicle that was such a work of art, the heavy, more-than-a-handful breasts, and her soft belly where he could almost imagine his chil—

He shook his head, the pain in his groin from the wet, constricting pants almost a welcome distraction from the impossible direction of his thoughts. “You’ve been through so much today, I cannot.”

“This isn’t about taking advantage of me. I will ask more questions later. But I need you right now, Nate. I think we need each other.”

He peeled the wet clothes from his body, too weak to think them off, then brought her naked skin to his. He stepped into the tub, then lifted a hand to her. Wasn’t much he’d ever been afraid of. But the thought of losing her turned his insides ice cold.

Their mouths met as their bodies joined. Jessie’s back arched, her hair trailing in the water as she settled down around him. She rolled and swiveled her hips, riding him slow and purposefully. Like she meant it. He’d never met anyone like her. Good to her core. She was drawing him there—to her center—and keeping him, binding him, without even knowing it.

He would learn to pray. Learn to pray for the strength to let her go so she could be safe.

Nate’s hands slicked up her belly to cup her breasts, mesmerized at the way they moved. Gentle little jostles, so different from when his thrusting hunger made them bounce, yet no less erotic. When he leaned down to tongue her nipples, she moaned. He gritted his teeth, nearly losing his control at the carnal sound. She began to move faster. He shifted his hips so she could grind herself harder at the base of his pelvis. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, her breath quickened. His hands came up to fist in her wet hair. Her silver blue eyes met his. He saw himself in them. Felt a belonging.

It was too much. He couldn’t hold on. “Jessie.”

A plea she understood. Her lips opened on a sound he was becoming addicted to, her orgasm a thing of beauty. Jessie in bloom. He watched her flushed cheeks, her eyes, the silken skin he’d come to know as well as his own. Watched her as a sizzling wave of energy speared through his gut, spreading through his veins, into his cartilage, bones, sinew.

He watched her as long as he could.

Then, he let go.