Demon Moon

decade, he could count the number of times she’d done so to him: a distracted pat to his cheek when she’d been deciding whether to help Castleford despite her bargain with Lucifer, a careful examination of Colin’s hands when he’d returned from Chaos, and now.
    How many women had he been with? He hadn’t mattered to them, nor they to him. He’d been grateful for each one, but very few had touched him.
    He could count them as well. Too effortlessly for two centuries of living: Emily, Lilith, Selah, and Savi. One his sister, two his friends.
    He wanted so much more from Savi.
    “Don’t serve the needs of those Below, Colin, no matter how deep the desire.” She dropped her hand back to her side and arched a dark eyebrow. “It’s much more rewarding to be wicked while serving ourselves.”
    The heavy weight settled on his chest again. In his determination to have Savi, he’d have told her anything, promised her everything. And he wouldn’t have considered how damaging it would have been if he failed; he would have only thought of pleasing her in the present.
    He’d have realized it too late.
    When had he become so careless? Yet he’d been so from the moment he’d been teleported to Caelum, and with the woman whom he should have been taking the most care. Had his desire for her overwhelmed his sense so much—or was it the selfishness she’d accused him of?
    His lungs too tight for speech, Colin simply nodded, then followed them out into the garage.
    Their motorcycles flanked his car, and he watched as they strapped swords and other gear onto the bikes. In Sir Pup’s absence, they had to carry their own weapons. Normal behavior for them—and for Colin, though he preferred to stow them in the car boot…but for Savi, who abhorred violence, what had the past eight months been like?
    Why hadn’t she moved into her own house? She could afford it, and she’d have avoided the risks living with Lilith and Hugh posed.
    Yet she’d remained, and shot a wyrmwolf as steadily as if she’d been training with a gun for years. She should have been terrified…
    She had been terrified. He’d felt it in the seconds before she’d raised her shields. And though she was smart enough to know better, though Castleford had obviously prepared the symbols for her protection, she hadn’t fled.
    His brow furrowed as he realized where his thoughts were leading, the conclusion he began to draw between her need for pain and her mental distance from her physical responses. “Why isn’t anything likely to frighten her? And when it does, why is it difficult for her to run?”
    Bent over the motorcycle, Castleford stilled for a moment, then thrust a sword into a scabbard; the bike skidded forward with the force of it. “Because I fucked up,” he said.
    Lilith’s head jerked around, and Colin thought the surprise on her face likely reflected his; Castleford seldom swore, and only when his anger was self-directed.
    “And I taught her something she learned too well.”

    There was a name for a man who sat in a parked car outside a café, watching through a window while the woman he obsessed over spoke with another man. Lilith would have called him a stalker. Savi might have said he was creepy.
    Colin preferred besotted.
    God, but she looked incredible. The window framed her perfectly; she sat at a tall cocktail table, her heels hooked on the rung of her chair. Supple boots hugged her calves, and the hem of her skirt allowed a tantalizing glimpse of smooth caramel at her knee.
    He intended to kiss that spot, then taste every hidden bit of skin. Peel away the creamy wool sweater. Slide his hands up the exquisite length of her legs, hold her close.
    And safe. She wouldn’t have to run again.
    A light rain began to fall, spattering against the windshield and side window. Colin eyed the sky in accusation. No moonlight spilled through the heavy gray mass above. A cloud cover would have been bloody brilliant midday; too late for it to be of any use to him now.
    Lying on the sidewalk in front of the café, Sir Pup raised his head from his forepaws and looked toward the Jaguar. His jaws opened wide, his lips pulled back. The hellhound was laughing at him.
    Colin grinned, showed his own fangs. “At least I’ll not be soaked, pup.”
    A burst of laughter came faintly through the car window, and Colin’s gaze shifted to the suitor. His eyes narrowed. The sod was handsome, and obviously had brains enough to appreciate her