“Why do you always assume the worst of me?” he asked. “I don’t know exactly what happened last night, but I know you too well to believe you were behind the murder. And even if I didn’t, I’m in no position to throw stones.”

The anger I’d been trying to build up seeped away, and my shoulders sagged. For all my life, I’d used anger as a shield against all of life’s unpleasantness. Before I’d started dating Brian, it had never occurred to me to want to change that. Anger was—for me, at least—much easier to deal with than pain, or fear, or even confusion.

I rubbed my suddenly gritty-feeling eyes and shoved the brew basket back into place in the coffeemaker. My self-defense instincts wanted me to grab the carafe and fill it at the sink, which would allow me to continue not looking at Brian. I fought those instincts off, slowly turning toward him as I crossed my arms. I realized as soon as I’d done it that crossing my arms was another defensive gesture, but decided I was allowed.

There was a shadow behind Brian’s eyes, one I couldn’t remember being there before. I knew what he was thinking about.

There had been a demon, known as Der Jäger, who had had the unusual ability to recognize and hunt other demons on the Mortal Plain. Due to circumstances beyond my control, Der Jäger had learned that I was still hosting Lugh. Lugh and I had fought Der Jäger and won, but we couldn’t afford to let him go back to the Demon Realm and tell Dougal who was hosting Lugh. It wouldn’t have mattered who had been hosting Der Jäger; I still wouldn’t have been happy with the idea of roasting a human being alive to kill the demon. But Der Jäger had taken my father—at least, the man who had raised me, even though he turned out not to be my biological father—as his host. I’d never gotten along with dear old Dad, but there was no way I was ruthless enough to kill him.

To make a long story short, Lugh had taken over, and Brian had helped him stage a fiery car accident for my father to die in. In Brian’s words, he’d had to choose between my father and me, and he’d chosen me. But no human being could make a decision like that without something inside them breaking, and Brian, with his Boy Scout ethics, was probably far more broken up about it than he’d ever let me see.

But he was letting me see it now. Letting me see the shadow of horror that haunted him. It made my chest and throat tight with pain.

Without thinking about it, I took the two steps I needed to close the distance between us and put my arms around him, pressing the side of my face against his chest. His arms wrapped around me, and he let out his breath in a long, shuddering sigh.

There were no words that could soothe his pain-none that I knew of, at least—and there was a part of me that still kind of hated him for what he’d done. Not a rational part of me, mind you, but then emotions are rarely rational.

“I didn’t know Raphael was going to kill Cooper,” I said into Brian’s chest. I knew I was avoiding the true issue here, but avoidance is one of my favorite things. “In retrospect, I think I should have. But I didn’t.”

Brian’s arms tightened around me. “Things are always clear in retrospect.” His hands slid slowly up my back, then up my neck, until they were cupped around the sides of my head. He threaded his fingers through my hair. I used to wear it spiked with gel, but I’d been toning it down lately, for which I’m sure Brian was grateful.

I tilted my chin upward and found his mouth coming to meet me halfway. His lips were a familiar warmth against mine and I opened my mouth for him. His tongue dipped in for a taste, and I made an incoherent little sound of pleasure.

Lugh’s voice hummed in the back of my mind, reminding me he was there, feeling everything I felt, lusting after Brian just as I did. Reminding me also that an issue far more dangerous than Cooper’s death lay between us.

Reluctantly, I pulled away from Brian’s kiss, though I kept my arms around his neck and my body pressed up against his. His eyes had darkened with desire. He licked the taste of me from his lips, and I had to suppress a groan. Brian could do amazing things with his tongue, and my hormones were screaming that now would be a good time for him to demonstrate. I tried to swallow the desire back down.

“What about Lugh?” I whispered.

The fire dimmed in Brian’s eyes, and he lowered his forehead until it rested against mine. “Couldn’t you just have gone with it?”

I shook my head without breaking contact. “He won’t let me. Now that he’s brought the issue up, he’s not going to leave it alone until we both come to terms with it.”

Brian let go of me, taking a step backward to put some space between us. That single step sent a stabbing pain through my chest. I’d worked so hard to hold on to Brian. If there were any justice in this world, my efforts would be rewarded for it. But justice is a rare and precious thing.

Brian wasn’t making eye contact, but at least he wasn’t retreating any further.

“Have you thought at all about what I suggested the other day?” he asked.

“You mean about finding Lugh a new host?”

He met my eyes now with a look of mild reproach. Of course that was what he meant—what else could he possibly be talking about? But for reasons I didn’t fully understand, I wanted him to verbalize it, so I met his reproach with pure stubbornness. Brian lost the staring contest.

“Yes, about finding Lugh a new host,” he said.

Images of last night’s dream with Lugh flashed through my mind. Heat rose in my cheeks, and I tried to force the images away. The last thing I wanted was to reinforce Brian’s jealousy, and he was too observant to miss the blush. And too smart not to understand what it meant. I did my best to divert him.

“After you suggested it, Lugh stopped talking to me for a while,” I said, not sure telling this to Brian was the smartest move. “He made me realize how … comfortable I’ve gotten with having him inside me.” A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t for the life of me tell whether it was because I feared losing Lugh, or because I feared losing Brian. Maybe both.

“You of all people know how isolated I’ve been,” I continued. “I used to like it that way, but now …” I shrugged, my shoulders tight with tension. “Now I’m not sure I can go back.”

Brian reached out and grasped my shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. “You don’t have to go back to being isolated,” he told me earnestly. “You’re learning how to open up and let other people into your life.”

I shook my head, picking my words carefully. “I don’t think I can do it without him.” Brian opened his mouth to protest, but I put my fingers to his lips to silence him. He had no idea how much influence Lugh had had on me, how much Lugh had helped me repair the damage I’d done to our relationship.

“Think of Lugh as a pair of training wheels,” I said. “With the training wheels on, I can ride like a big girl. But I’m not ready to go without them yet.”

Brian took another step back from me and scowled. “You’re using him as another excuse to keep me from getting too close.”

It used to be that Brian never got angry. Well, not never, but almost never. It used to drive me crazy when I argued with him. My voice would rise to somewhere in the vicinity of a sonic boom, my emotions boiling over, and Brian would respond calmly and logically. He was like a black hole for my anger, sucking it in and letting none escape. Being with me had changed him, hardened him. I hated that.

“I’m not the one using Lugh as an excuse,” I said quietly. “Nothing’s changed for me since the last time we made love. You’re the one who’s looking at me differently.”

The scowl deepened. “You really think nothing has changed? I asked you to consider finding a new host for Lugh, and now you’re telling me you don’t want to. Am I supposed to just take that in stride?”