Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “Rachel, it’s going to be okay,” Trent said, misreading my mood.

            But I wasn’t about to tell him I was worried about us, and I took a piece of cheese, avoiding him. My gaze landed on my pearl pinky ring, glowing a pale pink in the orangey light of the fire. “I don’t like it when Vivian is mad at me.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie . . .

            “Who would.” He set his cider down and shifted behind me. “Okay, sit up,” he directed as he rose to a kneel, his hands finding my shoulders and giving them a firm pinch. “You are tense enough to crack eggs on.”

            “Oh, God. That feels wonderful,” I groaned as he dug his thumb into my scapula to find the knot and work it. “Thank you. How did you know that was there?”

            “That’s where I store my tension, too,” he said. “Ah, I’m sorry for getting upset with you about the girls. I know there is nowhere truly safe. I’m not used to—”

            His words cut off, but his pressure on my shoulders never faltered. “Trusting them to me?” I said. “I should have brought them to you immediately.”

            “To the golf course?” he said, his motions deepening. “Leaving them with Al was not an issue. He is their demon godparent.”

            “What, then?” I said, and his hands fell from me as I shifted to look at him. I’d already figured it out, but I wanted to hear him say it. I had said the girls would be safe with me despite being in the middle of something, that my life wasn’t going to crash over them with violence—and I had been wrong. And it could have cost him everything.

            “Trent, I am so sorry this happened,” I said suddenly. “I’m sorry I was wrong, not just about the mage. I lied to myself that I could live a normal life for a few hours because I wanted to spend a morning with the girls, and because of that, I put them in danger. I don’t know if there will ever be a time when I don’t have vampires, witches, or whatever ugly thing comes slithering out of the Ohio River crashing into my life. I’m kind of angry about it.”

            “I know,” he said, his motions on my shoulders resuming. “And I don’t want them to be raised as I was, secluded and coddled. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m sorry I let my knee-jerk reaction hit you. I’m not happy they saw such violence, but I’m glad that it happened with you. They will always be safe if you are there. I should have remembered that.”

            But I wasn’t so sure, and I turned to him, the scent of wine and cookies filling me as his lips found my neck. “Really?” Crap on toast, I thought I was going to cry.

            “Right down to the last mystic,” he said, giving me a kiss. “I’m sorry I got so angry. It’s just that . . .” He shifted back, his fingers resuming their motion. “Childhood is so fleeting. Three, five, ten years, and then they stop looking to you for guidance and you’re lucky if they ask your opinion or will sit and watch a movie with you. I want to share the joy of them with you while it lasts. And I will. I just wish they weren’t so vulnerable.”

            I took a breath, feeling my throat close, feeling understood. Feeling loved. “Thank you,” I said, but when did I ever have an afternoon where my life might not intrude?

            The silence began to grow, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, and I smiled as I heard Bis’s distant crow of excitement. Apparently he’d won the bet. “I like what you’re doing to the apartment,” I said. And my back, and neck, and everything. With a sigh, I felt myself relax.

            “There it is,” Trent said softly, his strong grip pinching my shoulder easing as my muscles let go. “Much better.” Leaning, he gave me another kiss before moving to sit beside me. “I’m glad you like the changes. I wish you could move in with me.”

            My lips quirked wryly as he settled himself more certainly, not sprawled out on the fleece so much as stretched, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Can’t move in with him? “Reverse psychology doesn’t work when it’s that obvious,” I said, and he arched his eyebrows as he took a piece of bread and dipped it into the dish of honey.

            “Oh, no,” he said, his tone confusing me. “I’m serious. I wasn’t kidding when I said my insurance won’t cover you. Demon damage is no longer considered an act of God. And having you up here?” He sighed, decidedly sexy as he ate his bread and honey. “You are too high-risk for even me, my love. Can you imagine your chaos at the top of the tower?”