Demon Moon

by Meljean Brook

  “Oh my god.” Lights and colors whirled around her.

  “Focus on my beautiful lips, Savitri, lest you become dizzy.”

  “And cast up my accounts?”

  “Yes,” he said, laughing; how could she not look at his mouth when he did that? At his elongated canines, the sharp white line of his teeth. But it was safer than looking at his eyes and risking seeing the wholehearted, almost boyish delight that had so captivated her in Caelum.

  The sound of his amusement rumbled through her, combined with the heavy beat of the music. He wore cologne, a light masculine fragrance with notes of orange and papaya and sandalwood. She buried her face in his neck, wrapped her thighs around his lean hips.

  Oh my god. His cock was thick and hard beneath his trousers, nestled between her legs. Another perfect fit; she remembered all too well how perfect.

  She could come just from this.

  “It didn’t work,” he said in Hindi. He sounded almost apologetic.

  She was burning, burning. Just like Polidori’s. “What didn’t?”

  “The woman from the stairwell. Acting the ass at the bar, that you would put distance between us. It seems I can protect you from everyone but myself.”

  Her body went rigid; her eyes flew open. I don’t always have control. He’d tried to regain it by feeding, but that had been hours ago. How thin was it now? Her heart pounded. “You were lying at the bar?”

  “No. But a gentleman can tell the truth without being cruel, if he wishes it.” He slowed next to his table, and eased down onto the sofa without letting her go. Her knees sank into the cushions. His arm across her lower back trapped her hips against his. “Do not mistake me for a kind man, Savitri.”

  She wouldn’t. Not again.

  “What are you going to do?” She pushed at his chest.

  “Taste you.” He cupped her jaw. His thumb smoothed across her cheek. “Only your mouth, and only if you agree.”

  Tension coiled through her stomach, arousal and fear. And heat. He was a fever inside her, a sickness. “What if I don’t?”

  “I’ll carry you to my suite and do it there.” The apology dropped from his tone. “I don’t intend to take your blood, Savi. I simply want—need—to taste you.” His chest rose and fell beneath her hand. “I think I will die if I do not.”

  She wouldn’t believe that; only poets and horny teenagers did. But her gaze dropped to his lips. “Just a kiss?”

  “Yes.” With gentle pressure, he urged her nearer. “A sword lies behind the wall panel. The spring is two inches above the sofa, one foot in.”

  Did he think she would need it? But if he lost that much control, she’d have no possibility of defense.

  She’d had a better chance against the nosferatu.

  Her palms slid over his shoulders, up to curve around the back of his neck. Her fingers buried in the hair at his nape. So thick and soft.

  “This must be because I’m drunk,” she whispered as she lowered her mouth to his. “I know better.”

  So did he.

  Surely nothing good would come of this. He’d measured his desire against his sense for hours. In the end, he was simply too selfish a creature; no matter how heavy the consequences, his need outweighed them.

  Her scent had tormented him. Distance hadn’t helped. He’d watched her on the dance floor, as she sat at the bar and drank with an unquenchable thirst that seemed to equal his own, alternating between alcohol and water as if searching for anything to give her ease.

  Her skin burned through the silk of her shirt; whatever she’d been searching for, she apparently hadn’t found it.

  Terrible and frightening had been the moment when he’d taken the woman he’d seen on the stairs, and realized his hunger had not abated—when he’d realized Savitri had caused it, and was likely the solution. But she was no different from any other woman: all without flavor but for their blood.

  Her lips pressed tentatively against his, and his stomach hollowed in relief. He was hard, aching for her, but there was nothing magical in this. Just a kiss, something he’d experienced thousands of times with thousands of women.

  Just her fragrance, tickling at a memory and creating an involuntary response. It must be.

  Her mouth opened, and she swept her tongue between his lips.

  And he tasted her. Sweet. Warm and mellow, and beneath it, a dark, rich essence.

  Impossible.

  Colin held himself still, disbelieving. Pleasure spilled through him, thick and heated. Not the same as bloodlust, but as powerful.

  She drew his lower lip between her teeth. He wanted to beg her to return to a deeper kiss, but didn’t trust himself to speak, to move.

  Don’t frighten her. Don’t let her stop.

  He released her, dug his hands into the sofa cushions.

  Her tongue sought his, stroking. A moan rose in his throat. Her slight weight was a delicious pressure against his rigid shaft, and she moved in time with her kiss.

  How? Why? Chocolate, fries, apples and cinnamon, lime and salt—he could not taste them, nothing but that incredible sweet flavor, the heat of her mouth.

  With each rock of her hips the ache of his cock became more exquisite, more unbearable. She suckled softly on his tongue. Yes, Savi—don’t stop. Don’t—

  Bloody hell, he was going to spend. Right here, with this slip of a girl atop him. Astounded, Colin opened his eyes, met her velvet brown gaze.

  She’d been watching him, gauging his response. Surprise and knowledge filled her psychic scent before she lowered her lids and began devouring his mouth, tasting and licking.

  His heart raced. Her fingers tugged on his hair, and she sank deeper, deeper. She worked him over as easily as he had Fia, or any of the other women he’d fed from that evening…or in the past two centuries. He couldn’t stop her—didn’t want to stop her, but she couldn’t do this to him, couldn’t, not without—

  She bit his tongue; blood flowed into his mouth. His own, but it mixed with her flavor and flashed through him, a bolt of lightning arcing along his veins. He stiffened, panted into her lips.

  She raised her head, her gaze narrowed on his face, triumph and pleasure chasing across her expression. Incredulous, he couldn’t muster the slightest embarrassment, though it was impossible for her not to realize what was happening. Her sex pressed against him. She couldn’t mistake the ecstasy that shook him. He could feel the heat of her, but the wet was his own.

  Good God. She’d made him come in his pants.

  And she’d done it with a single kiss.

  His chest heaved, and he stared at her lips. Moist and swollen. He could smell her arousal beneath that ever-present peach scent; she’d be moist and swollen everywhere.

  If someone didn’t come and save her in the next few moments, she would be in his suite and in his bed. He’d taste every inch, just to see if it was only her mouth, or all of her.

  He was going to eat her up.

  “It must be the hellhound venom,” she said, and sighed. The soft curves of her breasts pressed against the silk blouse, her nipples outlined by crimson.

  And he wouldn’t let her go. Not again. Vows and sisters and friends be damned.

  “Or the nosferatu blood,” she added, her voice thoughtful. She no longer slurred her words; had she sobered so quickly? She touched his lower lip.

  Scarlet dotted her fingertip: his blood. Dread slipped through him; he caught her hand and frowned up at her.

  “Did you swallow any?”

  Another scent intruded on his senses; not physical, but psychic. Sickly sweet and rotting. Familiar. He shook it away. Impossible that it was here—it was only a memory, a hallucination brought on by his fear that she might have ingested his tainted blood.

  “I think so,” she said quietly. “It must be why I’m burning. Why I have been for hours.”

  Hours? Unease settled in his stomach. He slid his hand around her hip, under her shirt, and felt the skin on her back.

  Hot. He’d expect
ed that, from the exertion of dancing and the arousal between them. But there was no perspiration, none of the cooling slick sweat that should have accompanied it.

  Dry. Feverish.

  Her strange statement from a moment before struck him now, made him tense. “You swallowed venom?”

  “I had to get it into his blood. I spit it.” She blinked slowly. Her eyes were bright, glassy. “It doesn’t harm humans or halflings.”

  “If they’re bitten,” he said through clenched teeth. Why hadn’t Castleford told her of the dangers possible, that there was still so much unknown? “God knows what it does if you drink it. And the nosferatu blood? Did you ingest that, too?”

  “It was spraying everywhere—in my mouth. Someone grabbed me when I was running, and I swallowed. It must have mixed with the venom a little. Not very much.”

  Beneath her fragrance, the psychic stink of rot grew stronger. He fought to control it; he’d been months without the flashbacks striking with such intensity. Why now? Could he not have one memory of her left untainted by Chaos?

  “Why didn’t you tell me before? How long have you been like this?”

  “The car.” She took rapid, shallow breaths. “The venom tasted like a peach, but I rinsed out my mouth on the plane.”

  He reached into his pocket for his phone. “You’re supposed to be smart, Savitri.”

  “You fuck with my brain, vampire. And every time I’ve been with you I’ve been enthralled or drunk, so I can’t think.”

  Her body swayed before she jerked herself upright again.

  “Christ.” He pulled her tight against his chest and pushed the auto-dial for Lilith’s cell. Bloody fantastic job protecting her. How could he not have noticed the fever? He’d only thought of his cock and his fangs and her mouth.

  She’d twisted him up; he’d been out of his mind. That scent…from a fucking dog.

  “You smell so good,” she said against his neck, and her tongue swiped over his skin. He closed his throat against his groan of pleasure. She was delirious; even he wouldn’t take advantage of her now.

  A violent commotion came from the entrance of the club. Only a few vampires lingered inside, slowly gathering their things. Colin looked up as they stopped and turned toward the sound.

  A sharp, male shriek of pain followed a deep shout of warning. Varney.

  Colin opened his senses, searching for the source of the threat, and the putrid stink swept into his mind. He forced himself not to gag. Not to scream.

  “Colin? Colin!”

  Lilith’s voice in his ear pulled him back from the edge. What the—

  Savitri. He compelled the words from his frozen tongue. “Savi ingested hellhound venom and nosferatu blood. She’s taken fever.”

  Colin closed the phone and dropped it, then slapped his hand against the wall. The panel sprang open.

  Savi slid from his lap. Even in this state, she must have realized he needed to move.

  “Stay here.”

  She nodded, and rubbed her face to rouse herself.

  He selected two swords and rose to his feet. A dark form streaked across the dance floor, headed directly toward them.

  Icy fear splintered in his gut, cut through the numbness.

  A wyrmwolf. Scales and exposed flesh. Not as large as a hellhound, with only one head, but almost as deadly. Sweat broke over his skin. How could it be here? It couldn’t be here; no Gate led from Earth to Chaos, no portal. The only anchor to that realm was in Colin’s blood, and the only access through him.

  Had he brought it back? Could he never escape it? Did he have to pay for one foolish mistake for eternity?

  A vampire tried to stop the wyrmwolf, and lost his arm to a quick tear from its jaws.

  Screams echoed through the club.

  “Bloody fucking hell,” Colin muttered, and ran to intercept it.

  Savi had never seen anything like the battle that followed—couldn’t see most of it. Only a flash of swords, then two figures blurring as they moved. An instant in which they paused, caught in a violent tableau of blades and fangs.

  She looked away once, toward those watching with her. The vampires’ expressions were easy to interpret: horror and awe. They could see what was happening. Why didn’t they help him?

  But Colin didn’t need it. He stopped suddenly, angling his left sword up like a batsman after smashing a cricket ball, his chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat.

  The creature’s head hit the wall and thudded to the floor.

  The strength left her body at the same time, and she slipped down, laid her cheek against the sofa cushion. The heat burned through her, but she couldn’t feel it anymore. Only tired, so tired.

  Through half-closed eyes, she saw Colin return to her side, his gaze fierce upon her. Blood spread over one ivory sleeve, and from a slash on his thigh.

  He lifted her from the sofa and began walking toward his suite. Her head swam.

  “They have five seconds,” he said softly.

  Who? Before what? She couldn’t make the effort to form the questions. Jet lag? A strange time for it, when she was flying, flying.

  Colin’s arms tightened around her, and he shuddered. “Castleford. Michael.” His voice was flat. “And as usual, you’ve arrived too bloody late.”

  CHAPTER 5

  I have determined that I shall have a holiday in Switzerland. A change of scenery shall do wonders for my digestion, though, but for P——, the company probably will not. They are exceedingly curious about vampires; but I have a personal dislike for “Poets,” and the little acquaintance I have with one in particular will not induce me to divulge my secrets.

  —Colin to Ramsdell, 1816

  SEEKING alliance for 29/5'10", smart, handsome and successful software engineer in California. Pls respond with photo.

  AFFLUENT Hindu Punjabi parents seek very beautiful girl for their extremely handsome, 6ft, high achiever, educated, physician son.

  Photo & biodata must. Caste/religion no bar. HINDU Marathi parents seek an attractive, professional, vegetarian girl, with traditional values, for handsome son, USMD NYC. Please send biodata/recent photo.

  Savi sighed and scooped more noodles from the take-out box. With her left hand, she drew a circle around the first ad. Nani would be horrified that Savi had even glanced at the matrimonials, but at least she would know Savi was trying to keep her promise. In any case, her grandmother had probably begun inquiries in the Indian communities in the Bay Area and with relatives in Mumbai. There would be plenty of potential grooms for Savi to meet.

  And a software engineer would be okay; better than a doctor. She’d have more in common with a techie. She frowned and chewed. On the other hand, a doctor would be absent more often. Social obligations might be greater, though; when her parents hadn’t been at work, they were usually at some function.

  She glanced around the small, dark office with its glowing computer screens and felt a spark of hope. A techie might be gone just as often. She was never home, that was certain.

  Of course, over the past eight months that absence had had little to do with her job and more to do with a vain vampire and his frequent visits to Hugh and Lilith. His presence hadn’t been a factor in the month since her return from India, but she’d still kept as far from home as possible.

  Running. She was such a coward.

  She wouldn’t run from this promise, though. Pls respond with photo. Perhaps she could digitally alter a picture, and when she met the prospective groom in person claim she’d lost most of her hair in a fire.

  In a fire, saving a kitten.

  “How long did you think you could avoid me?”

  Savi’s cardboard-box table shook as her foot slipped, and she whirled on her stool. Lilith stood in the doorway, Sir Pup at her heels. She must have come from home; she wore loose cargo pants, a T-shirt, and a fitted leather jacket.

  Lilith’s appearance was a bit more striking when she was at work. Not that she was ever less than stunning with a face l
ike that.

  Right now, a stunning and frighteningly triumphant I’ve-got-you smile sat on Lilith’s lips.

  Savi swallowed and managed, “I was hoping for at least another week. I should be out of here by then. You apparently got the info I sent about the nosferatu. How did you know it was me?” She glared at Sir Pup. The hellhound must have led Lilith to this office, followed Savi’s scent.

  He grinned at her, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

  “Considering everything else Hugh and I have discovered in the last couple of weeks, it could only have been you.” Lilith’s dark gaze skimmed over the room. Not much to see; a few monitors, server racks, boxes. “What’s taking you so long? I’d have thought if you wanted to go, you could go.”

  “The connections in the new place. The current ones can’t handle the data transfer. And there’s a security issue.” Apparently here, too, but no security system would stop someone like Lilith. Savi shrugged and studied the other woman’s long black hair. Too much curl.

  Her eyes narrowing, Lilith said, “What is it?”

  “I was thinking of making a wig.” Savi gestured to a small love seat, where she often took naps when the information she needed was long in coming. “I imagine you’re going to stay and interrogate me. Pad thai?”

  “I ate.” Instead of sitting in the deep cushions, Lilith lowered herself onto the arm and pulled her right foot up to rest on the seat. “It’s been two weeks since you left the hospital; Hugh and I have seen you a total of three times. He’s worried.”

  Guilt tightened Savi’s belly. She set the food on the table, and tried to remember whom she was speaking with: Lilith, a master of manipulation. Savi adored her, but knew Lilith wouldn’t hesitate to lie if it served her purpose. “You’re here for him? He knows what I do. How do you think he found you and Colin so easily last May? He asked me to get your info.”

  Sir Pup sniffed at the box of noodles; Savi dropped it to the floor and let him go at it. He’d shifted into his public form, a large Labrador with only one head. Did his other heads resent it when only one got a treat?