Demon Angel

blood. While satisfying on a basic level, it did not assuage that deeper thirst or slide like liquid lightning across his tongue.
    He set the tumbler on a side table, briefly considering changing his glassware to stemware; drinking blood from wineglasses was much more dramatic, elegant.
    Apparently Lilith thought so, too.
    "You have no style, Colin," she announced from the French doors that opened to the balcony. She didn't bother to ask permission to enter, but crossed the room, throwing herself facedown onto a striped damask sofa.
    He raked his gaze over her, his expression amused. "You have more than enough for the both of us, my dear," he said.
    She turned her head toward him and smiled; no humor touched her eyes. "I was hoping you would notice."
    He'd have to be blind not to notice. And, notwithstanding his long, platonic friendship with her, he couldn't help but appreciate the brief sight of her sweetly rounded bottom encased in the black leather before she settled her wings against her back, hiding the view.
    "If it was up to you," Colin said, settling himself into an adjoining chair, "I'd skulk around the house wearing a tuxedo and cape."
    "Well, you wouldn't have to skulk. Lurking would be accept—"
    She broke off as a black form silently streaked past Colin's chair, almost knocking it over. He righted it just as the huge dog launched itself onto the sofa, whining and barking and wriggling. Colin couldn't see how she wasn't squashed beneath the hellhound's bulk, but Lilith laughed and kissed each of the dog's three noses, patting and rubbing the three enormous heads. She didn't seem to care that the thing was as big as a Bengal tiger, or that a flash of its teeth could make a nosferatu flee in terror. Its tail wagged with barely restrained joy, and its tongues slobbered over her neck and face in desperate welcome.
    Colin shivered. Though he'd taken care of the hellhound for the past six months, and many times before that, it'd usually adopted the guise of a Labrador retriever. Its true form was… disturbing, even to a vampire as old as he was.
    Still laughing, Lilith gently pushed the dog to the floor. "Lie still, now." It complied, and she turned back over, raising her head and resting her chin on one hand so she could see Colin, her other hand trailing over the side and resting on Sir Pup's shoulder. She shifted as she tried to find a comfortable position with the bulk of her left wing pressed tightly against the back of the sofa. After a moment, she gave up, simply making the wings disappear.
    Colin would have made the attempt to view her bottom again, but with her torso elevated he had a glimpse of her cleavage which he was determined to enjoy.
    He didn't leave the house often anymore—not when he could sense so many nosferatu in the city. They'd curtailed his nighttime activities to the extent that he was reduced to drinking animal blood.
    They deserved to die for that alone.
    "Did you see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
    Her eyes glowed red for a moment. She stood up, walking over to the window and looking out. The hellhound stuck close to her heels, tongues lolling. Colin waited, knowing she'd speak when she was ready.
    "Yes," she said finally. She rested her hand on the leaded glass pane, her nails tapping lightly.
    "Did you reprise the sword fights of old?"
    "No," she said, giving him a reproachful look. "He's just a human."
    Colin quirked an eyebrow. "That only explains why you can't kill him. Those ridiculous 'thou-shall-not-kill-or-eat-or-maim-humans' rules that you demons follow for some reason. But just because you are stronger, faster, have the ability to fly and can shape-shift doesn't automatically suggest victory over a well-trained human. Surely you remember what my sister did to the nosferatu who transformed me, and Emily was 'just a human.'"
    "She also had Michael's sword," she said with a slight scowl, and Colin bit back his laughter. Lilith had never liked Emily, thought of her as a spoiled aristocrat with her head in the clouds. She turned back to him. "You're envious of my power, admit it."
    "You possess only two more abilities than I do; I've strength and speed, and I don't see the need for the rest." Then he had to admit, "Well, perhaps flying—but not shifting. I have no wish to take on the form of a bat," Or upset the perfect composition of his features.
    She rolled her eyes. "You've been watching far too much television. We can't transform into animals. Although, it would be