“Blood of a half-dead demon. This was your first summoning spell, wasn’t it?” He watched me carefully. I glared, but said nothing to deny it. He sighed. “Of course I’m bound to an incompetent fledgling until the end of time. Do us both a favor and don’t accept my offer. I’d prefer to not be your lapdog anyway.”

I cocked my head to the side. “You’d have to come whenever I called for you?”

“Not exactly, but like I said before, I would know when you needed me.”

“Why do you care about protecting me?”

“I don’t. But thanks to your spell I’m forced to, or I’ll risk having my powers diminished. Therefore, I am adhering to the terms. Some of us graciously accept our duty.”

Sure. When we were magically required to. “How exactly does the protection work?”

“Demons will sense the bond and reconsider harming you. It might not persuade all of them not to kill you, but it would give them pause. They’d know they’d incur my wrath as punishment for interfering in House matters.”

Much as I was loath to admit it, having the demon of war as a guardian angel wasn’t the worst luck. I didn’t have to trust or even like him—I only needed to have faith in my own instincts. Right now they were telling me he wasn’t responsible for murdering my sister. I was fairly certain this bargain was more beneficial to him, but I’d eventually find a way to bend it in my favor. And even if I couldn’t, it didn’t matter. Wrath didn’t seem to want me dead, and I needed to be very much alive to discover what happened to Vittoria.

“Fine. I accept your offer of a blood trade.”

“Willingly?” he asked. I nodded. “Hand me my dagger.”

I hesitated for only a second, recalling the protection charm I’d cast on him. For the first time since he appeared in the cave, he looked elated as I slid the blade into his waiting grasp. Before I changed my mind, he cut his finger and enticed a few blood drops to bead up. The wound sealed almost immediately after.

“I won’t have to . . . drink it, will I?”

He cast a quick glance my way. “What sort of stories have you been told about us?”

I mumbled “wicked blood-drinking deviants,” and he must have heard me because he didn’t bother asking for clarification.

“Unless you enjoy drinking blood, mixing mine with yours will do.”

Challenge rose in my steady gaze as I lifted my still-bleeding arm and he pressed his finger to my wound. He seemed just as repulsed by it as I was. I gritted my teeth, trading blood with a demon wasn’t my ideal evening, either, but here we were.