Demon Moon (56 page)

“Yes.” Its response was guttural, the bloodlust raging fully upon it.

He wrote the reversed symbol below the first. “Also, that the portal to Chaos opens when her shields are down. You must have heard the experiment we conducted in the Room.”

Ariphale stared at the symbols. “You are opening a portal to Chaos? Or to Caelum?”

Neither, but this ignorant bloodsucker had not learned that without Colin sensing Savi's psychic presence, the effect was inert. The spell prevented that.

Colin grinned and backed slowly away. Provoking a hunter's instincts. “The wyrmwolves should come through at any moment. And I shall lock myself in the suite's washroom, activate the spell inside, and wait for them to kill you. When you are dead, the protection around this room shall fall, the Guardians will sweep in and terminate the wyrmwolves…and I shall exit the washroom unharmed. And perhaps with my hair combed; I'll have little else to do as I wait.”

Good God. He was more like Dalkiel than he'd thought; these monologues were quite entertaining.

And, as he'd hoped, infuriating.

With a cry of rage, Ariphale rushed him. Colin let him come—he couldn't have escaped by running. Nor did he want to: a nosferatu less overwhelmed by bloodlust might have drawn a weapon; Ariphale used his fangs.

So did Colin.

He only needed a sip. The nosferatu's hand over his mouth, holding his chin twisted to the side and his neck exposed, was just enough.

Ariphale's body went rigid, then quaked as Colin sent the rapture twisting through it. The creature's mouth opened, as if to cry out; the tearing pressure of its teeth in Colin's throat eased.

Release. A final pulse into the nosferatu's blood, to shift the odds in his favor; Ariphale already seemed better prepared for it. He was quickly losing his advantage, but Colin only needed a moment's head start, and an instant's clarity to recall that he shouldn't use his bleeding hand. And to hope that Selah was watching, and would be ready.

He swiped at the symbols; the nosferatu bore down on him, his weapon flashing.

Selah didn't transport in; she gave him a sword.

Colin stepped to the side and dropped. He cut Ariphale's running legs from under it, then stood and impaled it from behind, angling in between its wings and into the heart as it fell. And through the back of the neck, just because it was there.

Not very sporting, but fuck him if he wasn't as weak as a bloody kitten.

The suite door crashed open. Savi's fragrance filled his mouth, his lungs. He staggered, sank to his knees. Buried his hands in her fur as she pressed her cold nose against his throat.

Colin drew back and looked at her. “I'll not kiss you like this.”

She opened her mouth in a wolfish, toothy grin; a moment later she lay quivering against him, still smiling…laughing.

Naked.

“I think I must have a hammerspace.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. Another. “But I have no idea how to get my stuff back out of it.”

Colin glanced down at her fingers; the henna decorating her hands was unbroken, but her ring was gone.

Her smile faded. Colin had no time to reply.

“Savi,” Michael said from behind them, his voice eerily strained. “Raise your psychic shields.”

His gut clenching, Colin turned to look. Beyond the plane of the wall, three nosferatu stared back at him. Wyrmwolves writhed and tore at each other. Chaos glowed silently around them.

Her scent disappeared; so did the portal. The crimson symbols radiated heat, and dried dark against the paint.

The Doyen unclenched his jaw. “That was…irresponsible,” he said with quiet anger.

Colin glanced back at Savi. Her face was stricken, but her gaze rested on her bare fingers, not the symbols.

And Colin replied, “I must confess I find it very difficult to care.”

Bald and brutish.

His appearance suggested the latter, but Varney didn't seem to mind that a woman who'd been a dog sat on his enormous lap. Nor that Colin asked him to turn his lantern-jawed chin to the side, so that he could better explain to Savi the best locations to bite, the expected blood output from each vein and artery, and the proper method of healing the punctures and of opening her shields to return the pleasure of it.

Perhaps Colin had promised him hazard pay again? Or maybe he just had a very soft heart beneath that hard nosferatulike exterior.

It was a heart that Savi couldn't stop imagining. Her fangs ached and throbbed in unison with its pulsing, steady flow of lifeblood, until Colin's voice faded beneath the incredible sound. God, she'd never been this hungry. Varney's pale, thick neck seemed the most beautiful thing she'd ever—

“Go on, Savi,” Colin said quietly, but she was already leaning forward, already pressing her mouth and teeth against his throat.

It hit her tongue, raced through her. A flash of light behind her eyes, the heat and pleasure of willing blood in her mouth, her veins.

Electric. Heaven. Wonderful and sweet and luscious as it slid into her and he was thick and hard beneath her, and she was squirming against him, squirming and he was so big and she was so wet and the blood wasn't enough.

I don't want you
.

She didn't want him, either.

But she couldn't stop. Her hands fumbled for her skirt. Oh god. Jeans, next time. Harder to get past. Wear jeans next time and shred them open at the crotch and just fuck fuck fuck—

Stop, Savi. I don't want you. Stop
.

“That's enough, Savi,” Colin echoed hoarsely. “You're taking too much.”

Too much
. She broke away and bit her tongue—more blood, her blood…and it tasted like blood. Varney's wounds were almost half-closed when she bent her head.

Practice, for when it wasn't a vampire she had to heal.

A flush of embarrassment spread over Varney's skin. His penis was solid between her legs. Oh, god—and she could smell herself.

Awkwardly, she scooted off. “Thanks.”

I'll call you tomorrow
.

She wouldn't cry. Not right now. Not when Colin's mouth was set and his gaze dark and he looked as if he'd just gone through seven agonies of hell.

“I didn't want him,” she said as she took his hand.

“I know.” His voice was rough. She stood still beneath his perusal as he studied her face, her mouth. “You've a bit here. I would kiss it away but I daren't.” He raised their linked hands and brushed his thumb against the corner of her lips.

She stared at the smear of blood. Heard his heart quicken…could almost
feel
his hunger. He needed to feed.

And it shouldn't be animal blood—not after Ariphale had taken so much. Nor could it be half-vampire half-hellhound blood.

“Will you drive me home?” She wasn't going to cry. “To my place?”

He closed his eyes. It was a long time before he said, “Yes.”

Five minutes after she exited Colin's car, with the painful silence that had stood between them still heavy in her stomach, he knocked at her door.

His golden hair had been mussed beyond its usual state—beyond what it had been when she'd seen him last. His collar was askew. The scent of a woman's expensive perfume eddied around him.

The fragrance of a woman's fear and arousal.

The door frame splintered beneath Savi's fingers.

His throat worked before he said, “I didn't.” His eyes searched hers, desperation in the gray depths. “I didn't.”

His face blurred in front of her. “I know.”

“One more night, Savi. There's no bloodlust now. And you've fed. Just one before you leave.” He came inside. No need to ask for an invitation. His mouth covered hers, sipping and tasting. His hands were at her waist, untying the belt of her robe. “Just one more.”

A sound of protest rose in her throat. She'd taken off the clothes Selah had made for her the moment she'd arrived, but another man's odor clung to her skin. She couldn't make love to Colin like this.

But she didn't need to say anything; he smelled of someone else, too. He carried her to her bedroom, past the bed.

“There's a mirror,” she said, but still he went in. His gaze never left her as his shirt fell to the floor, his pants. They stepped beneath the steaming spray together.

The tension in his body eased when she pulled the curtain closed; it heightened when the scent of her soap rose around them. He lifted her. The tile formed cold squares against her back, the individual shapes sliding together into one as Colin filled her.

It wasn't enough.

He braced his hands as if he intended to stay within her forever; hard and fast was best but now she loved slow, slow. How long had he been inside her?

It wasn't enough.

She writhed and pushed; her head fell back and the spray shivered like ice over her skin. Too tight. Too much.

Her shields were down. She couldn't break through. “Colin. Help me. Please.”

His teeth closed over her nipple, his fangs scraped the softness surrounding. His cock thrust deep, every push and pull tearing a violent groan from his chest. And still…

“I can't.” Panic gnawed at the edges of her arousal.

“It's the blood, Savi. You have to bite yourself.” Water streamed over his face, dripped from his lips. He tucked his chin beside her neck; his body gentled against hers. Despair thickened his voice. “And I cannot even give you this.”

She had nothing to give him, either. And though an orgasm ground roughly through her when she sank her fangs into her bottom lip, there was little pleasure in it.

Except that it was with him.

“Where will you go first?”

She barely heard him above the beat of his heart against her spine, the rhythm of his breath into her hair. For hours, they'd lain together in her bed, his arms surrounding her, her legs twined with his.

“Eastern Europe, I think. I'll learn Romany.”

He pressed a kiss to her nape. “Do not invoke any curses.”

“I won't. I just don't want to rely solely on Michael to figure out how to break yours.”

“Savi—”

“It'll give me something to look forward to,” she said quietly. “I like the idea that someday, even if you're still anchored to Chaos, you'll be able to walk outside without it screaming at you from a billion cars and their rearview mirrors.”

“A billion? Such melodramatic exaggeration, sweet.”

“I think it comes with the fangs,” she said, and snuggled a little closer into him. She couldn't get any closer. “Will you help me take care of Nani? After a while, she won't be able to live by herself. I won't put her in a nursing home.”

“Castleford may battle me for the privilege, but I shall relish both his defeat and Nani's presence in my home, wherever she deems it shall be. Will you not take a few weeks and visit with her at Beaumont Court? I should like you to become acquainted with my family. Even,” he said softly, “if I am not there to perform the introductions. And Derbyshire produces some of the finest blood in the world; you'd not regret it.”

“Maybe for a day or two, I could.” Outside the window, the sky began to lighten. She should get up and close the blinds. Would he leave while she slept? Would it be easier that way?

“You'd be welcome to stay much longer.”

“I know. It's not that.” She tried to look at him, but his hands held her fast. Settling her cheek against the pillow again with a sigh, she said, “Varney wasn't
dazed
.”

He stiffened. “Dazed—?”

“He won't forget. Like Roberta did. Like all of yours do. I'll have to keep moving.”

Horror strangled his voice. “No, Savi. Oh, God…no. You cannot live like that. If this is your alternative, you must stay.”

“I don't have a choice, just like you don't. I can't share my blood with another vampire; I'd just be a burden, sucking on different members in a community without offering anything of my own.”

“You can continue with the projects you've already begun, at Polidori's and at SI. No one questions your value. No one thinks you anything but an asset.”

“All of those projects can be continued online.” She gritted her teeth. They'd been through this.

“What of protection? We need you here; you destroyed a demon with little effort. We'll not be challenged again.”

“I can't live like a glorified parasite off the employees at Polidori's—and do you want to go in every night wondering who I fucked and fed from? It would kill me. It would hurt you.”

“There are humans,” he said tightly. “You'll not have to see them again; neither will I.”

“But humans will remember—I'll be able to heal them and they won't have any evidence, but they won't forget me. I'll risk exposing all of us if I stay in one place and feed from a different human every night. And the vampire communities aren't ready for—”

“Bloody hang everyone!” His teeth clenched; she could hear them grinding together in his effort to control his response.

“I can do it.” Her throat ached. “I have money. I can create all of the necessary IDs and different identities so that I can't be easily traced. I can alter or erase any financial trail. Even if someone realizes there's a pattern, it'll be hard for them to pin me down. And once vampires go public, I won't have to.”

“You'll run for a decade?”

“It's not running.” She forced a smile. He couldn't see it, but it made it easier to lie to herself. “It's hunting. You were happy. Why can't I be?”

“Because, my sweet Savitri, you are not me.”

“Then I'll be content knowing that you are happy. You loved hunting for two hundred years, and when you go back to it, it'll be just as good as ever.”

“That's a sodding pile of bullshite, Savi. I was not in love for two hundred years.”

“So we're both going to be miserable?” She tried to move, and could not. She kicked her legs at him in frustration. “Why won't you let me look at you? I'm going to leave tomorrow and you won't even let me see you one more fucking time?”

“Because I need it more than I need the next beat of my heart.” His breath shuddered against her neck; his chest heaved against her back. “What use is a reflection when I've you to see me and think me beautiful? And if you look at me again, I simply don't know that I could let you go. Oh, Christ, sweet—don't cry. I cannot bear your tears.”

“I can't yours. I can't any of this.”

But what other choice did they have but to bear it? His blood burned humans and vampires from within; her blood might physically transform him into something terrible, something unrecognizable.

The honey-gold sheet glowed orange. She covered her face, pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Nosferatu-born. Hellhound-born.

She'd already burned…had she been tempered by it or weakened?

“I'm strong,” she whispered.

His eyelashes tickled the short ends of her hair as they swept down. “My vanity is immense,” he said. “In two hundred years, there has been little that I've obsessed over as much as my appearance.” Her heart constricted, until he added, “And there is nothing about which I've more certainty.”

They lay in silence. She could not stop shaking. Her body would rattle itself apart. His mental image of himself was solid; his portraits were evidence of it. But would it be enough to save him? Would the method of her transformation be enough to save her? Or would it kill them? What hadn't they considered…what
couldn't
they consider, because they just didn't know?

There were too many variables; it was impossible to predict an outcome. They could only hope the odds were stacked in their favor.

“Savitri,” Colin said softly, and she turned to him. “Perhaps we should see what comes next.”

Her shivers eased. His cheeks were warm and wet beneath her questing fingers. “Are you sure?”

He nodded tightly. “It is well worth the risk.”

It was to herself, but she risked him, too. Still, she rose up on her knees, and when he sat up against the headboard, she swung her leg across his hips, straddled him. “Oh, god. Oh, god.” She kissed him, pulled back to look, then kissed him again. “We're so stupid. This is so stupid.”

“Mad. Reckless.” His mouth was warm against her frantic lips. “I love you, Savi. I love you.” He pushed into her. Her back arched. So good. If she died, it would be like this.

But she wanted more. “Will you lower your shields?”