“Yes or no, Megan?”

She fastened her bra, pulled her dress back over her head, and stood up. “If we can’t discuss this, if you can’t stop pressuring me and trying to force me to do everything your way, everything you want, and you can’t even listen to my side, then . . .” She couldn’t say no. Couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I think I should go.”

Malleus had left his chair by the side of the bed. Greyson sagged into it, rested his head on his hands. “Fine. Go.”

“I just think . . . we can talk about this later. After we’ve calmed down.” It sounded so lame she cringed.

“Sure. Later. I’ll just sit here and wait, shall I? While you decide if you want to be with me. If I’m more important to you than helping a bunch of strangers with their problems.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Again. Life isn’t fucking fair, Meg.”

He still hadn’t looked up. She stood there, fighting the urge to go put her hand on his shoulder, to sink to her knees and put her arms around him. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, hesitating.

Greyson raised his head just enough to expose hollow red eyes. “I thought you were leaving.”

“We’ll talk later,” she repeated, and fled before she did something really stupid.

Chapter 27

Something attacked her the second she opened the door to her own room, a large beast with grasping arms that vibrated in her mind like a tuning fork.

Tera. Squeezing her.

Megan gasped and tried to disentangle herself. “Tera, what the hell—”

“Where the hell have you been? The meeting ended almost four hours ago. Nick and I were getting frantic. He’s out searching the hotel for you right now. For the third time.”

“Oh. Um, I was with Greyson. Talking. About the angel and stuff.”

“And you didn’t think to call and let us know? Nick’s supposed to be guarding you. You were supposed to call him when the meeting ended so he could come down and get you. How do you think he felt when you didn’t? What do you think—”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t think. The meeting wasn’t really very informative, and I needed to know some things, and I . . . no, I wasn’t thinking.”

Tera’s expression changed; her expertly made-up blue eyes widened, her perfectly glossed lips lost some of their tension. “Did you guys work everything out?”

“No.”

“Did he propose again?”

“Three or four times, I think. But he won’t give in, and now he won’t even discuss it with me. He just keeps saying if I really wanted to marry him, it wouldn’t matter, and he won’t even try to understand that it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that . . . oh, never mind. You understand. Why am I explaining it to you?”

They sat down on the edge of the bed. Tera reached into her designer bag and pulled out a couple of tiny bottles. “Here.”

“What? Oh. Thanks.” She suppressed a smile. Trust Tera to steal airline bourbon.

She knocked the bottle back in one throat-burning swallow, sighed as it blazed down into her stomach and loosened some of her tension.

Tera sipped from her own bottle. “Maybe he’s right.”

“What? How can you even think—”

“I just mean, maybe if you’re digging your heels in this hard, it’s because you really don’t want to marry him.”

“I do want to marry him. I love him. But I just don’t see why he won’t compromise with me on this. Why he won’t even discuss it.”

“Ha. So you do want to. I hate to sound like I know what I’m talking about here—I mean, you’re the one who does this for a living, I just listen to your show sometimes—but don’t you think maybe you’re looking for excuses because you’re scared of not being in control? Or because all those decisions you’ve been putting off are suddenly here, and you’re freaking out, so you’re trying to look for a reason not to do what—oh, shit, I don’t know. What would you tell one of your patients?”

Megan stared at her for a moment, open-mouthed . . . and not a little ashamed. She’d never given Tera enough credit. “I guess you’re right. Sort of. I mean, what would I be if I give up my job? Just some woman with a rich husband, who spends her days shopping and knitting or something. What if he . . . what if he got bored with me? Demons have mistresses, you know. They have their wives who sit home and their girlfriends who go out and do fun things, and . . . if we became that, and I couldn’t even work anymore . . .”

“Megan, I’ve known him for a while, although not as well as I did before you came along. But he didn’t even cheat on Lexie, and they weren’t really doing more than having sex all over the place. And I don’t want to get all mushy or anything, but the guy is crazy about you. Do you honestly think that if you got married, there’d be something you needed that he wouldn’t get for you? Don’t you think what he’s waiting for is just for you to be willing to give all that stuff up, and once he knows you would, he’ll make sure you don’t have to? This is how he operates. Always has.”

Her eyes were wet. She was going to have to take what little savings she had and invest it in Kleenex. “I thought you hated him.”

“I’ve never hated him. It’s just so much more fun to act like I do and watch him squirm.”

Megan stared at her.

Tera shrugged. “You have your fun, I have mine.”

“But that’s— Okay, whatever. Yes, you’re right. The part about him thinking that way, not the part about you having your fun, you weirdo. It’s still him giving me permission to have a fucking job.”

“Or it’s him trying to work with you so you can both be happy.”

“Jesus, will you shut up? Since when are you all rational and wanting me to do this? I’d have to become a demon, you know.”

“I know.” Tera grinned. “But you’re obviously never going to shut up about this particular topic until you just marry the guy, so you should go ahead and do it so we can move on already.”

Too bad the little bottle in her hand was empty. Not that more was a good idea. She did have a life-or-death struggle on her schedule for the evening, so getting drunk probably wasn’t the best idea. Damned life-or-death struggles, always getting in the way of a good drinking binge.

“You really think I should say yes,” she said.

“I really think you should think about what makes you happiest and what you want out of life in ten years or twenty years or forty years and decide which option will—”

They both looked up when the door opened. Nick stepped through it, his face dark, until he saw her.

Then it got even darker.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve practically been dragging the fucking lake looking for you, and you’re—and you!” He glared at Tera, reddish sparks shifting in his eyes. “You were supposed to call me if you heard anything. How long has she been back here? What the fuck were you doing, that you couldn’t even let me know she was alive?”

“We were having mad, passionate sex,” Tera replied. “Aren’t you sorry you missed it?”

“I’m sorry, Nick. I’ve only been back for a couple of minutes, and I had to talk to her,” Megan jumped in, hoping somehow to divert the violence telegraphed on Nick’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was with—I was talking to Greyson.”

“Oh.” He subsided, but she hadn’t missed the pained expression on his face.

She took a deep breath. “Tera, can you give Nick and me a minute?”

Tera looked for a second as if she was about to make a joke, and Megan’s hand curled around the edge of the pillow at her side. If Tera said one word, she would smack her in the face with it.

She didn’t. She just nodded and stood. “I’ll be in my room. Give me a call, okay? To let me know what happened at your meeting and everything.”

Megan nodded. The door closed behind Tera, and she still had no idea what to say. Okay. She’d better say something. Anything. “Nick, I’m really sorry.”