Demon Moon

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