Demon Moon

since realized it isn’t the right tactic.”
    “More like something Dalkiel would do.”
    “Yes.”
    Her gaze moved past him, surveyed the dance floor. “Perhaps half and half. I think some appreciate it; others would be swayed by your coming to them.” Looking back at him, she rose up on her toes, pressed a kiss to his jaw.
    Oh, sweet heaven. The soft touch of her lips. The warmth of her skin. And all too quickly gone as she lowered back to her heels.
    “I’m still feeling my way around. I never expected you to care what I thought or said.”
    To respond as he’d like would be to take her there on the sofa. He fought the flare of resentment that they couldn’t leave, that he still had too much to do before taking her home, where they wouldn’t have to speak in whispers and guard every word against the ears of those he meant to win over.
    He only nodded, his mouth tightly closed, refusing to draw breath. Bless her perspicacity. She stepped away from him, stooping to pat Sir Pup’s head.
    “Pup,” he said quietly. “Grow up a bit.”
    The hellhound sat down and licked his front paw. When he stood up, Savi didn’t have to bend to reach him. Subtly done, though someone watching carefully would have noticed.
    “Stay at her feet, and kill anyone who tries to touch her.” Colin hesitated before taking her hand. At times, the hellhound followed commands too well. “But for me.”
    Sir Pup grinned at him, then fell into step beside her as they began a round of the tables. They stopped to chat with the humans, playing the club owner ascertaining his clients’ satisfaction.
    With the vampires, he dropped the pretense, though not the charm—and had to fight his frustration again when he didn’t find the resistance he’d hoped for from the first few groups. Worse, they asked few questions, despite the myriad leading statements Savi and he made.
    Any brainless sod could herd sheep; he needed to find the wolves, and bloodlessly tame them.
    While Savi told four vampires how to access a hidden level in the DemonSlayer video game, Colin searched out Fia again, caught her eye. Who likely resents my presence here more than any other? Someone with influence .
    Darkwolf and his consorts, Arwen and Gina. You’ve seen them before. He was the one who questioned your feeding from humans that night Paul and I met you .
    Christ. Darkwolf? His exasperation must have shown on his face; across the club, Fia began laughing at him. He couldn’t hear it, but he could easily sense her psychic amusement.
    Fia’s not my real name, either , she told him, grinning, and then signed Darkwolf’s location on the second level.

    On the stairwell, Colin pushed Savi against the wall and buried his face in her neck. Her surprise and arousal broke through her carefully constructed shields; he stiffened against her, but his gaze was approving when he pulled back to look at her.
    “Just like this, sweet,” he murmured. “Keep them down but slightly, so they feel your need for me. They don’t have the ability to look deeply, but they’ll sense this.”
    “What about the wyrmwolves?”
    “They’ve only appeared when you’ve been completely open.” His lids lowered, and he stared at her throat for a moment before shaking himself. “And if one does make its appearance, it will only help our cause when I demonstrate my magnificent fencing technique, defeating the slavering monster, saving all and sundry.”
    She bit her lip to halt her automatic protest. It would also make it torturous for him. He hadn’t yet fed.
    As if reading the cause of her distress, he said, “We’ll leave directly after this; for now, my hunger is an asset, but I’ll not have control much longer with your shields down. Keep the pup by your hand. And we’ve still to expose your strength; if you find an opportunity for a display, take it.”
    She tried to think of a subtle demonstration as they climbed the stairs, but the new tension in Colin’s form distracted her from all but the most melodramatic scenarios. Sir Pup licked her palm reassuringly as they approached a table in the corner of the lounge; somewhere between the first and second floors, he’d grown another couple of inches and his appearance took on a wolfish cast.
    Three vampires sat around the table; two of them, Savi deduced, must be Darkwolf and Arwen: the tall male with dark skin, a clean-shaven head, and a howling-wolf tattoo on his left forearm, wearing a leather vest and spiked