Demon Moon

by Meljean Brook

  When she looked back up, she found him staring at her with an expression that could have been amazement—or pain. “I want you, Savi. Your blood, your body. I would do anything to have you. Tell me what I need to do.”

  Her spoon rattled against the rim of the bowl. She carefully set it down and said, “I’ll come home with you tonight.”

  He was at her side in an instant, pulling her to her feet.

  “Wait,” she laughed. “I have to stay and help. We close at ten.”

  A soft groan of despair escaped him, but he sat down. Peripherally, she saw Nani come out of the kitchen and began eating the mulligatawny as quickly as possible.

  Colin’s eyes gleamed. “Shall I tell her?”

  “No,” she choked, torn between horror and amusement. “I’ll tell her you ate one of the regulars.”

  He laughed, his elbow propped on the table and his fist curled loosely in front of his mouth. She paused with the spoon halfway to her lips, struck by how boyish he looked in that moment. He’d been only twenty-two at his transformation, but his features usually gave the impression of ageless youth; he could have been a man of eighteen or forty. His laugh took away that untouched facet of his appearance without reducing his beauty.

  When it faded, he leaned back in his chair and smiled lazily. “There’s no evidence. I was nothing but a dream to her.”

  A dream? That was similar to what Fia had called it: unreal. “That’s what you make them think?”

  “I don’t make them. It’s how they remember it.”

  “How do you know, if you leave them directly afterward?”

  “I have been living in San Francisco for a long time, Savi.”

  One hundred years multiplied by an average of one a night…“Oh, my. And some twice? Was Roberta?”

  An indefinable tension passed over his features before he nodded.

  “And I thought I had gotten around,” she said.

  His lids lowered. “Does it trouble you?”

  “That I’m a slut? No.”

  The corners of his mouth turned down, flattening the curve of his bottom lip. “That is not what I meant. I would hardly hold your romantic nature and your desire to increase your odds against you.”

  She stared at him. Is that what he thought—and was he correct? She loved the physical pleasure she found in bed, but she’d never analyzed her reasons for seeking it with so many people, afraid of what she’d discover. And she wouldn’t begin now. “And yet you wonder if I’d hold your nature against you. As if you should starve yourself.”

  “I don’t have sex with every one.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Only one or two a week.”

  Oh, god. “Okay.” It didn’t come out as strongly as she intended.

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. “It’s always consensual. And I don’t take advantage of—”

  “It’s fine, Colin.” Her cheeks hurt from the width of her smile. “Really. Even if you wanted to—and there’s no reason you should—you couldn’t stop.”

  And he couldn’t; he had to feed. The number truly didn’t matter, either; it was the knowledge that a few days from now, maybe tomorrow, he’d be with someone else. And then someone else.

  The dull pain in her chest had returned. Thankfully one night of sex—even spectacular sex—wouldn’t whet the pain from dull to sharp.

  Perhaps it could be a dream for her, too. Unreal. Her smile softened as she looked up at him again and caught him studying her face with dark intensity. As if reassured by her response, he relaxed.

  She took a sip of water, then said, “It’s probably a good thing that most vampires aren’t like you. Can you imagine even twenty in a city like this, trying to feed from a different person every night? Within a decade, ten percent of the population would have been sucked on. And a community of a hundred vampires? No way to keep that secret, even if everyone had your ability to make them forget.”

  “Yes, it is fortunate,” he said. “But there would be no community if they were like me.”

  “Because you can’t reproduce? Or because you’re reclusive?”

  He shook his head, and the tips of his fangs showed in a smile before he hid them. “Choose one.”

  Which question? The second didn’t signify, she realized; even reclusive vampires needed to eat, community or no. “Have you ever tried to reproduce?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “They died.” A bleak expression sat upon his features for a moment. “Not this one, Savi. I’m sorry. Another time.”

  She wouldn’t have many other times with him, but she nodded. “Why don’t you take a consort? Do you love the hunt that much?”

  “Savitri, my sweet, you double up your questions as if they were naughty schoolboys in a dormitory bunk.”

  She laughed despite herself. “The consort?”

  “I can’t share my blood,” he said. He lifted his shoulder in a careless, elegant shrug. “It’s tainted.”

  “You used it to heal—” She broke off as she understood; he meant he couldn’t let another vampire drink it. Like ingesting the hellhound venom…it was impossible to know what the consequences would be. “I’m tainted, too,” she said, feeling sick to her stomach. “You can’t take my blood.”

  Colin was shaking his head. “You’re still human.”

  “How do you know it won’t have an effect on you? How many hellhound-venom-and-nosferatu-blood-tainted women have you had?”

  His lips quirked. “Savi, consider my blood and Anthony Ramsdell’s blood—though Michael’s sword is fatal to the nosferatu, our human blood didn’t carry any of its power. The nosferatu drank from us without consequence. The sword’s taint only manifested with our transformations: his to Guardian, mine to vampire.”

  “And your sister? She was human, but didn’t it allow her to resist Lilith?”

  “Some psychic resistance,” he admitted. “But as you are well aware, that is natural to humans; it only strengthened what she already possessed.”

  As Savi had been strengthened? “Could she throw a baseball into the next county? You weren’t changed by it when you were human, as I am changed,” she pointed out. “And there is a significant difference between a demon dog and Michael’s sword.”

  “Not particularly significant. Lucifer bred the hellhounds from wyrmwolves; a hellhound is, in essence, a creature of Chaos—just as the dragon whose blood altered Michael’s sword was of Chaos.” His mouth thinned with bitter humor. “I do not have to fear you might anchor me to that realm.”

  She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, then lowered her hand back to the table. “I don’t know.”

  He reached forward and clasped her hand in his. His thumb slid over her knuckles, dipped into the valleys between. Her cupped palm reflected against the crimson-lined glass; Colin’s did not.

  All too quickly, he drew back. “I’d not drink from you unless I was certain of this, Savi. If it has any effect—and I sincerely doubt it will—perhaps I’ll begin to emit an odor somewhat like a peach.”

  She smiled, but she couldn’t laugh, not when she still wondered: “Why not a human consort then? Or humans, since one couldn’t support you with her blood.”

  “A harem? And should I keep them in separate houses as I would a stable of mistresses, one for each day of the week?”

  “Too expensive?”

  “Indeed. And returning the next week to find she has all but forgotten the pleasure I gave her is hardly flattering.”

  “You’ve done it before,” she realized.

  “Yes. It did not suit.”

  “So a human is out. But you could drink from another vampire, and she could get hers elsewhere.”

  “My personal blood depot, with its accompanying sexual access?” He arched a brow, his mouth softening with amusement. “Even I am not so callous, nor so selfish, as to treat a woman as that. Not for more than one day, that is.”

  Savi grimaced. “I suppose that would not
work for very long; she’d feel used and resentful, eventually. Or I would—I know I could not spread myself between two men that way, particularly if one just wanted my blood. But there must be a vampire who would like that. Everyone has her little sexual kink.”

  Noting his sudden stillness, she reviewed their conversation.

  “Ah, you just realized that you lied. You probably thought I didn’t know, but you did use a Guardian as your personal blood depot. The nosferatu were around and you couldn’t hunt, so when Lilith caught Selah you kept her for a few days. Selah told me you had her chained to your bed, and that, except for your frequent drinking, you were the perfect gentleman—”

  “Stop, Savi.”

  She flushed. “Sorry. That not-knowing-when-to-quit problem.”

  “Not that; I enjoy your interest in me.” His eyes searched hers, his brows drawn together. “But I don’t just want your blood.”

  “I know,” she said. Had he misunderstood what she’d offered? Better to make it absolutely clear. “I’m not coming over to be your snack. You can have my blood, yes—and I’ll drop my shields. But I expect sex in return. Hard and fast is best. And a few times, if possible.”

  His gaze darkened; his voice was low and rough. “It will be. More than a few. I’ll not let you sleep the whole of the night.”

  “That will be good,” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry. She just hoped it would be enough.

  CHAPTER 10

  The only alternative food source for vampires is animal blood, but it isn’t really an alternative except temporarily, unless the vampire wants to be a celibate idiot. And the longer a vampire feeds from an animal source—or even human blood from a blood bank—the worse the effect.

  —Savi to Taylor, 2007

  Colin resented every moment Savitri sat perched on the barstool behind the front counter. Her questions shouldn’t be limited to how customers preferred their dishes and what their names were. Why did she and Auntie continue in this business? They could each afford to live well without it.

  How aggravating that she should serve anyone, voluntarily or not.

  She trapped the phone between her jaw and shoulder as she wrote down yet another order. And he resented the twenty feet separating them all the more when she slid her fingers beneath the white shirt collar at her nape, massaging caramel skin that he couldn’t see or feel—only imagine.

  He swallowed and forced himself to turn and look out the window before the bloodlust rose. He’d have her in a few hours; there was no need to torture himself in the interim.

  Though he could hardly believe she still intended to leave with him. The interlude in the office had accomplished what he’d intended, and the conversation had started well enough—but he’d lost control of it over a bit of lipstick. The gratifying jealousy in her gaze had become something wounded, and he’d lost his sense.

  He’d never before felt the need to explain his sexual history…and what a sodding mess he’d made of it. He’d exposed something that must appear dirty and sordid to a human, even as he’d been attempting to convince her of the opposite.

  Only one or two a week. Christ. Her mind was too quick—she’d probably calculated the numbers before he’d realized what his defensive statement had meant: in two centuries, he’d taken blood from seventy thousand humans, and had sex with twenty thousand.

  Little wonder he’d always preferred art to arithmetic.

  He didn’t know how he’d recovered from such a bungle or what had kept her from bolting, but he wouldn’t question his good fortune.

  His teacup and table reflected in the window, and he watched the spoon circle as he stirred it with his invisible hand. Remembering the delight on Savi’s face as he’d lifted her belt beside the car, he pressed his lips together to stop his laughter. The illusion had never amused him before—but he’d never seen himself in that movement, only that he was missing.

  Such a simple thing, yet she’d had to point it out to him. What else did she see that he could not?

  He glanced back at her, and his body tightened in immediate arousal. She’d turned in her seat and rested her arm across the back, her slim torso in a graceful curve. She studied him with her upper lip caught between her teeth, her lower pushed out.

  She was considering something—and whatever it was made her heartbeat and breathing quicken until it was all he could hear beneath the music of the sitar, the murmur of voices from the other tables, the noise from the kitchen.

  She didn’t look away when he met her gaze; instead she arched one of her exquisite eyebrows in a clear query: Why are you laughing?

  Good God, she could ask a specific question with nothing more than a quirk of her brow. He shifted in his seat, gave a small shake of his head.

  He was suddenly quite certain he adored her.

  Her mouth opened, and she touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip, slightly swollen and rosy from her bite. Her left brow rose. Tell me.

  And now a demand. What would she do if he didn’t?

  Colin leaned forward, rested his elbow on the table, and cupped his chin in his palm to hide his grin. He lost sight of her when Geetha passed between them, heading for the kitchens, leaving Savi alone at the counter. Then he slowly turned and looked through the window again.

  “I want to see your mouth,” Savi murmured.

  Need tore through him, made him as lightheaded as if he’d been feeding. The passing headlights blurred into long, brilliant streams before snapping into sharp focus.

  Her voice was low and a touch playful. “I want it all over me. Your lips, your tongue…your teeth.”

  Christ. He fought the urge to look at her, fearing she’d stop.

  “Hugh taught me to lower my shields today. I’ll drop them if you—”

  Colin slapped both palms flat against the table. The teacup and spoon rattled together.

  If the few other patrons startled at the sound, he didn’t know. He only heard her soft, throaty laughter. When it faded, she whispered, “Will you have control?”

  A fine tremor shook his fingers. He nodded.

  “Look at me,” she said. “I want to see what it does to you.”

  Could she not see what her voice did to him? She must know. How extraordinary that she didn’t recognize her body’s sexual response much of the time, but could deliberately work him into aching hardness with a kiss…or a few words spoken across a room.

  “Hurry. Nani and Geetha come.” As if to emphasize her urgency, the phone rang.

  He turned his head and stifled his groan of pure visual pleasure.

  She’d twisted a little farther in her chair; the edges of her white shirt had pulled back. The soft blue cotton she wore beneath clung to her small breasts, outlined her nipples. His tongue dried, felt thick and heavy in his mouth. The low neckline left her collarbones and throat bare. He forced his gaze up over the expanse of smooth skin, past her soft lips. They glistened as if she’d licked them.

  He would drink from them, too.

  She was looking sidelong in annoyance at the phone. Then she raised her gaze to his.

  He couldn’t stop the low, harsh growl that escaped him as the scent filled the room, overpowering every physical odor. There was no possibility that she heard it, but her lashes lowered as if in her own pleasure, and she watched him through that heavy-lidded gaze.

  She lifted the phone to her ear, never looking away from him. “Auntie’s.”

  Bloody hell, even that was torture. Say something more, Savi. Ask a question.

  “Okay. How hot would you like that?” Her mouth curved slightly.

  He drew in a deep breath, filled himself with the essence of her. Not just the sweet scent; her arousal added a new, irresistible note, cinnamon and spice. Had he said he’d have control? It was quickly becoming a lie. His hands fisted on the table.

  Her brows drew together, and concern layered a different flavor. Too much? She mouthed the words, then said into the receiver, “No, we close in half an hour. You shou
ld have time.”

  Half an hour. He’d have her against the wall before then. His jaw clenched in denial, but he nodded.

  It eased to a light fragrance, no stronger than the breeze from an orchard on a sunny day. Then she broke her hold over him, glancing away to speak with Auntie.

  Colin closed his eyes and simply breathed for several minutes. So easy to bask in this.

  Until another psychic scent intruded. His lip curled in irritation, and he looked through the window in time to see the black Navigator drive past the restaurant, two vampires inside. Bloody nuisances.

  Uneasiness slid through him. He’d told Savi he wouldn’t lead them here, and he was certain he’d evaded them. His car was parked two blocks away, off the street. Nor could they have seen Savi in his car and guessed their destination—Savi’s exit from the warehouse had been blocked from their view, and the Bentley’s tinted windows would have prevented their seeing inside. Colin knew her psychic shields hadn’t fallen, revealing her identity; and his own psychic blocks were too strong to reveal his location.

  Particularly to such young, inexperienced vampires as those he sensed within the vehicle.

  He held on to their minds as they drove on, slipped quietly into the emotions of the weaker one. Not much within him above the level of his shields; hardly more than a sheep. Just a sense of duty, combined with disillusionment and anger. An ill-tempered sheep.

  And, despite the vehicle, completely different from the two vampires he’d sensed earlier.

  He shouldn’t have used the symbols to shield the Bentley so quickly after kissing Savi. He’d known the vampires waited outside the warehouse but had only given them a cursory scan. Still, they’d had a maturity neither of these possessed.

  The Navigator passed again, and Colin gave a hard mental push—it would alert them to his presence, but also serve as a warning.

  Surprise flared from their scents, then a careful probe from the weaker one. Bloody stupid of him. Without experience to guide it, reaching out like that opened one’s own shields. Colin seized hold of it, tasted.