Demon Moon

by Meljean Brook

  “If it strikes my mood. Lights on?”

  “Yes. Isn’t that a bit of a cliché?”

  “Only if I pretended to be something I’m not.” He moved to the wall, and she used the toe of her boot to tap the switch up. “It’s not a cliché if you live it, Savitri.”

  The glow from the recessed lighting was soft, but still she had to blink her eyes, wait for them to adjust. He strode quickly through a sitting room: silk-papered walls in rich burgundy, graceful sofas, and upholstered, deep-cushioned chairs. She tilted her head back; an array of blues and golds in geometrical shapes decorated the tray ceiling.

  “This is amazing. Gorgeous.” Had it been the same before the fire had destroyed all of it? Had he tried to re-create the original décor, or started over?

  “You can change anything you like; make it your own. In any room,” he said, and his arm slid from beneath her thighs, his hand catching her left knee and turning her, hooking it over his hip. She wrapped her right around his waist, moaned softly as the new position stroked his erection against her sex with each step.

  A huge canopied bed with royal blue satin draped on the corners filled the circular room—the tower room. The matching bedspread was cool beneath her bottom, then her back, as he bore her down into the mattress. Surrounded by him.

  He kissed her neck, her jaw. Quick, chaste kisses, if not for the insistent presence of his rigid shaft between her legs. A shiver tightened her skin, left her taut with need. She couldn’t see him, only the broad line of his back; she wanted to see him. To feel his skin against hers.

  She pushed at his shoulders, tried to pull up his sweater to run her palms over his flesh; he drew her hands over her head and held them there.

  “Let me touch you.” Her back arched, and she dug her heels into the mattress, tried to dislodge him.

  And only succeeded in driving herself mad when the movement of her hips ground her clit against his thick length. She did it again, whimpering in sudden, desperate frustration.

  Colin began laughing softly against her neck. “Another of my intentions, gone to hell.”

  “What did you intend?” Her breath caught as he nipped the skin above her pulse and his tongue ran a wet trail from her throat to the point of her shoulder. Finally, she could see him. His eyes, glittering with amusement and need; his blond hair, darkened by the rain; his tanned skin against her golden brown; the angular line of his jaw, and his soft, incredible lips.

  “To do it your way first: directly to the fucking, if that gives you the most pleasure.”

  Her only answer was an incoherent groan as he rocked against her in demonstration. Releasing her left hand, he brought his down to cup her bottom, to prevent her from thrusting against him in turn.

  “Then slower, later. Tasting you all over.”

  Fire slipped through her as he changed his rhythm, each languid roll of his hips taking her close to the edge. The delicious rub of fabric. Heat. His fingers slid beneath the seam of her panties, the lace soaked with her arousal. She gasped his name, a plea for mercy.

  Much longer, and she would be the beggar.

  “But I’d be a fool to waste this opportunity.” He withdrew his hand from between them, brought it to his mouth, licked the glistening moisture from his skin with a long swipe of his tongue. His eyes closed, his face reflecting sheer erotic pleasure.

  Oh god. She’d made him look like that; she’d be a fool to waste it, too. Her fingers clenched on his arm, his sleeve bunching in her grip. “What opportunity?”

  His lids were heavy when he raised his gaze to hers. “No bloodlust. I’m completely sated. But for this need, this lust.”

  “How is that different?” His fingertips traced her lips. Both their scents lingered on his hand, and she opened her mouth, flicked her tongue across his skin. Her feminine flavor. The roughness of the pads of his fingers. Salt. She closed her lips around the tip of his middle finger, softly bit it.

  He pulled in a shuddering breath. “It means this will last more than five minutes.”

  Her eyes widened. But of course it happened so quickly—he hunted for the purpose of feeding, not sex. And even if he tried to draw out the sexual portion, the bloodlust would rise and hurry it along. Then he put them to sleep, so they’d forget.

  Would he want her sympathy? “It’s comforting to know that you don’t screw them again when they’re unconscious,” she said lightly, but the kisses she pressed to his fingers, the back of his hand told the truth. I’m so sorry.

  The corners of his lips tilted into a smile. No, he wouldn’t feel sorry for himself, but the soft gratitude in his eyes told her he appreciated her compassion. “Don’t mistake me, Savi—those five minutes are bloody glorious. I’m very good.”

  The laughter rolled out of her from deep within. This time, Colin allowed her movement as she pushed him over and straddled him, bracing her hands in the mattress on either side of his head. Her lips skimmed over his brow, his cheekbones, his smiling mouth.

  “This month…if you feed first, and we have sex again right afterward, it won’t be the only opportunity.”

  His breath caught, as if in anticipation. Then his eyes narrowed. “I still intend to take this one slowly.”

  “No woman would object to that,” she said, and scraped his lower lip between her teeth, let it go to dip her tongue into his mouth. His body tightened beneath hers, and he made a sound of carnal satisfaction deep in his throat.

  Her flavor. Was it just that he could taste her at all that affected him so strongly, or was her taste so delectable he couldn’t resist it?

  Did it matter? It had overcome his preference for hunting, his promise to Hugh, was the reason she was there now. Thank God for momentum—and the passenger who’d pulled on her skirt, made her accidentally swallow the venom.

  She slid her tongue over his teeth, teased the tips of his fangs, moaning into his mouth as his palms came up to curve over her hips, then slide down the length of her thighs. His fingers curled, his nails dragging lightly over the sensitive tendons behind her knees. Her elbows weakened and she swayed forward. He tilted his head back, kept her mouth fused to his. Her nipples brushed damp silk.

  She broke away, gasping. “Off. Your clothes.”

  He licked the soft skin beneath her chin, a hot, wet streak that immediately cooled in the frigid air. The exquisite contrast shivered through her. “Patience, love.”

  She didn’t have any. “I want to see you. Taste you.” She swiveled her hips over his cock, a blatant declaration of what she wanted to taste.

  “Oh, Christ,” he breathed.

  “You won’t come,” she said, and sat up. Gathering the bottom of his sweater, she revealed the line of dark golden hair below his navel, his tautly muscled abdomen. Solid, lean strength. “We can still take a long time. Unless you bite yourself.”

  His gaze was riveted on her hands as she pushed the sweater over his chest. “I’ll not likely…Savi, wait.” He rose onto his elbow, caught her wrists. “A condition.”

  Her eyes narrowed in mock anger. “You have a lot of those.”

  “I prefer to stack the odds in my favor.” But his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You aren’t to bite yourself, either. Let me. I’ll not torture you, or deny your pleasure…not excessively.”

  She hesitated. “Why?”

  “I can’t come without your blood, and I’ll not take it without your leave. It seems a fair trade, does it not?” He lifted his hand to her mouth and ran his fingertip along the inside of her bottom lip. “And because I will not be the cause of any more of your scars. I’ll give you what you require; you need not inflict it on yourself.”

  She averted her face. Most of the small crescent scars were old, barely ridges in the smooth inner flesh, yet she should have known he’d notice them. “I just bit too hard sometimes. They wouldn’t.”

  His fangs flashed as he grinned. “I will.” He released her wrists, pulled the sweater and undershirt over his head.

  Her fingert
ips circled his flat nipples. No hair on his chest. The smooth play of muscle beneath his skin fascinated her, and she slid her palms over his pectorals, his shoulders, his arms. “What do you like best? If I’m to make love to you, I want to do it right.”

  His hands stilled with his trousers half unzipped. She took over for him, rasping the tab down, tugging at the base to pull it over the rise of his cock. His undershorts barely contained him, the elastic stretching away from his abdomen.

  “What I like best?” he echoed, his voice thick. He choked on a laugh as her hand encircled him through the silk. “Savi, you made me spend with a kiss. There’s nothing you could do that wouldn’t be the best I’ve ever had.”

  She smiled with pleasure, leaned forward to drag her tongue along the waistband of his shorts, then slowly lowered it. Freed, his shaft jutted out. She squeezed her legs together to ease the insistent, pulsing ache beneath her womb—reminded herself to be patient.

  “I’ll remember to keep my shields down if they have that effect.”

  “It’s not the bloody shields.” His hands fisted in blue satin. “It’s you. Oh, good God.”

  She’d done nothing except lick her lips to moisten them, but she’d not considered how visually oriented he was. He lay back, propped up on his elbows. His eyes darkened further, as if just the sight of her gratification and her preparation to take him into her mouth was as effective as a touch.

  Her heart pounding, she ran her nails up his length, swirled her thumb over the wide flaring head. How best to take advantage of it, to drive him mad with visual stimuli as well as physical sensation?

  “Savi,” he said hoarsely, “you’re thinking too much.”

  “You’ll like it.” She swept her tongue around the base of his shaft. Hot, hard. His hips jerked toward her, his grip tightened on the comforter. “I promise.”

  “Yes, sweet.” He panted as her mouth surrounded the tip of him. “I’m certain I shall.”

  He liked biting. He’d gone wild after she’d bitten him in Caelum; it might be too much now. But he’d also had a strong reaction when she’d touched herself, had wanted to see her do it…and, oh god, she needed some relief. His soft growls as she suckled him deeper, deeper, the lightly salty flavor, the taut flex of his abdomen as he forced himself to stay still were individual teases, combining to make her so moist and needy she could hardly believe she wasn’t already riding him.

  And that image, the anticipation of him inside her, sinking into her. She moaned around his length, shifting until she kneeled beside him in her boots and boyshorts.

  She needed one hand to brace herself against the mattress, but her other was free and she slid it between her thighs, beneath her panties, burying her fingers in slick, soft flesh. Stroked in rhythm with her tongue, her mouth.

  His growls abruptly stopped, and she darted a sidelong glance at him from beneath her lashes. His lips were pulled back, his fangs long and sharp against the line of his teeth. Desire and need burned hot in his gaze, his focus unwavering from her hand under the lace.

  It seemed with effort, he unclenched his jaw. Met her eyes as she took him deep again, slowly, trying to gauge his response. The cords on his neck stood out. A groan rose from his throat. She suckled her way back to the tip, felt him shake. She raised her eyebrow in question when his hands lifted to her chin, pulled her gently up, forcing her to release him.

  “Forgive me, Savi,” he rasped. “I’m soon to be selfish. The scent of you, the sound—in those knickers—I shall die if I don’t have my mouth on you within half a minute.”

  She stared at him, her fingers stopping in their motion between her thighs. “You have such an odd notion of selfish.”

  He grinned, pivoted up to catch her beneath her arms, turn, and push her back against the pillows. He sat on his heels, his trouser-clad knees forcing hers wide. “Once I’d failed in my intention to fuck you senseless, I intended to allow you the lead. But you proved too proficient. I shouldn’t have given you time to think.” Unzipping her boots, he tugged them off and threw them to the side of the bed. Hooked his fingers under lace and stripped her panties down her legs. “And I’ll not allow you weapons such as these.”

  She caught her tongue lightly between her teeth, and her hands rose to cup her breasts.

  Colin glanced up, froze. “Bloody hell. There’s no help for it then. Death comes.”

  Before she could fathom his intention, he covered her body with his and lifted her leg over his hip, entering her in a long, powerful stroke. Her breath ripped from her lungs. Oh, god. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.

  “Savi, Savi,” he chanted between kisses to her face, her lips. His hands were buried in her hair. “Did I hurt you? Was it too hard?”

  She shook her head, unable to speak. Not hurt, but she felt like sobbing with the pleasure of it. Her inner thigh slid over his hip as she wound her left leg across his back, lodging him farther inside. A wordless cry for more escaped her.

  “Hold on, love. Oh, Christ,” he groaned as he slowly withdrew. She panted against his neck, her slick heat clinging along his length. Friction, though she was so wet she could hear it, too. “Hold on.”

  Not wait, she realized, but grab on to him and don’t let go. He pushed back in. So deep. So thick. A perfect fit. No chance of letting him go. She twined her arms around his neck, felt the trembling in his elbows planted next to her shoulders, in his palms cradling the back of her head. Fighting for control. Her ankles locked together at the base of his spine.

  She clamped her teeth on his throat.

  He tensed, a rough growl tearing from his chest before he reared back, pulling her up with him. For an instant, she straddled him as he knelt on the bed, her weight resting almost wholly over his cock, and she took him in, deeper, wider. Pain in that full stretch, just under her womb, just a little.

  Just enough.

  He slammed her back down into the pillows, shoving hard, but she was already coming, unclenching her teeth as she cried out against his skin. Again as he thrust, dragging out the orgasm with each long stroke, faster as she reached another peak. His mouth found hers, and she helplessly sucked and bit at his tongue, his lips, taking all of him she could get inside her, and still he filled her, over and over.

  She let him go, too shattered to hold on, but he followed and linked his hands with hers. And pushed her over again.

  CHAPTER 19

  S——met with me at the port in Livorno; he was excited, eager for the transformation…as he approached all things. As you may have heard, it did not end well. A storm struck us—but it was already too late for S——. More when I return to Beaumont Court. It may be some time; I’ve not yet the stomach for open stretches of water. And if I never swim again, it will be too soon.

  —Colin to Ramsdell, 1822

  “Colin?”

  “I’m here,” he said, smiling against her throat. Savi sprawled bonelessly atop him, a leg on each side of his abdomen, her feet tucked beneath the outside of his thighs. He’d been counting the minutes; it hadn’t taken as long as he’d thought it would.

  “You didn’t…?”

  “No, love. You swooned.” He didn’t try to conceal the triumphant amusement in his tone.

  “No,” she said, her voice pensive. “I don’t think I did. Evidence suggests I was fucked senseless. You are a gentleman, after all. Despite your intentions, you gave a lady what she wanted.”

  He laughed softly. “At that moment, it was my only desire, as well.” He’d taste her soon enough. He ran his palms over her back, down to the swell of her small bottom, then swept back up. Smooth, naked skin, damp with perspiration.

  Quickly cooling perspiration.

  Bloody hell. Holding her against his chest, he rolled, kicked at the blankets. Found the edge and yanked it up over them. She sighed, wriggling in closer to his side. Her thigh draped over his, rubbed up and down against the wool of his trousers.

  “Are you still in your pants?”

>   “Yes. And though I am pleased I exhibited unmatched sartorial excellence whilst fucking you senseless, they have since rumpled to a mortifying degree. Thus I resort to a cover-up.”

  “Unbelievable. The only cover-up here is your cheap ass. I imagine heating this giant house must completely blow your budget.” Her dark eyes sparkled with humor, and she pressed her bottom lip between her teeth before offering, “I’ll pay for half of it while I’m here.”

  His chest tightened in desperate longing. Surely she must know a month wouldn’t be enough. “All of it,” he countered, his fingers running the length of her spine, tracing lightly over the large starburst scar alongside it. “I hardly need the heat.”

  “Your artwork runs the danger of mildew. Such a damp climate.” She mimicked her grandmother at the last; whether unconsciously done or not, it charmed another smile from him.

  As if drawn by the movement of his lips, her gaze lowered to his mouth. Beneath the blankets, her hand skimmed over his stomach and wrapped around the base of his erection. His teeth clenched at the exquisiteness of it.

  “I have a condition,” she said with a lift of her eyebrow, daring him to deny her.

  “Heat in trade for lovemaking? I accept your terms,” he said quickly. “Though I daresay you enjoyed it well enough freezing.”

  “It must be a secret desire of yours to have a woman whose skin is as cold as a vampire’s.” Releasing his shaft, she slid her hand up the side of his ribs, drawing a sigh of pleasure from him. Her lips curved into a slow, sad smile; he’d only seen that expression when she’d spoken of Caelum. “And I would have someone transform me and fulfill that wish, but—”

  “No.” The denial broke harshly from him, panic pushing it from his throat. “No, Savi. We could not even have a month if you did. You couldn’t drink from me.” She’d have to go elsewhere. And she wouldn’t be with him if the bloodlust forced her to be with another; she wouldn’t spread herself between two men.

  He’d likely murder the other vampire—or completely remove himself from her life to keep from doing it. The first would be preferable, but the continual deaths of her food sources was hardly a viable alternative for her.