Demon Moon

gears, but now that she’d arrived, stark reality hit her with gut-clenching fists.
    Colin would feed from her. And give her— something —in return.
    There was no going back from this. There was nothing impulsive about her decision, and it wasn’t a means to a simple end or to satisfy her curiosity.
    And there would be no simple end; only a painful one. This could only make it worse.
    Colin waited on the porch, speaking into his cell. He’d showered and changed, his hair dark and wet beneath the lights. He closed the phone and tucked it into the pocket of his cream linen pants when she turned off the car.
    It was probably a good thing she liked pain, because she wasn’t going to run from this.
    Though the indefinable quality that had been missing from his portraits made her certain it was he, she allowed Sir Pup to exit the car first. Her legs were unsteady as she joined them, her pulse racing. He watched her with unconcealed hunger.
    “Was it—” She had to pause, clear her throat. Why was she so nervous? He’d fed from her before, and she’d survived. “Was it their blood you had to wash away, or yours?”
    “Theirs. Of course.”
    She gave a little headshake. “Of course.”
    His lips quirked, and he held out his hand. “Go on home, pup.” His fingers clasped over hers when she slid her palm in his. “I’ve just spoken with Lilith; Dalkiel evaded the fledglings.”
    “You’re joking.”
    The frustration in his gaze answered her before he did. “No.” He released her hand to set the alarm and activate the spell.
    God. She could just imagine what Lilith had said to him.
    Savi automatically bent to remove her shoes, and braced herself against the wall as she unlaced her boots and yanked off the left. The marble was cool and hard beneath her bare foot. “It’s not your fault, you know.” She dropped her right boot to the floor.
    “I rarely blame myself for anything; I’ll not begin with this.”
    She froze, her heart thundering in her ears. His voice had deepened to a soft growl. She straightened and turned to face him.
    He was staring at his hands. They trembled, and the blood that beaded on his thumb began a thick slide. He raised his eyes to hers; they burned with need.
    So did she.
    “Are you frightened?” His tone begged her to say no.
    “A little.” He’d know the truth of it when he took her blood; she wouldn’t lie to him now. She shrugged out of her coat and grasped the hem of her top. Her neckline was too high. “But mostly excited, and really really turned on. You like to hunt; what happens if I run?”
    A voracious smile spread over his mouth; his gaze fell to her breasts as she bared them to his view. “I chase you.”
    “How far do you think I’d get?”
    “Not far; I’m dreadfully hungry.” Colin’s response was as playful as hers had been, but there was no mistaking its truth. “I’ll allow you a handicap.”
    “A head start? That hardly tips the odds in your favor.” She covered her breasts with her hands as she edged along the wall of the foyer, toward the stairs.
    As if the movement was a true attempt to escape, some of the humor left his expression, replaced by predatory intent, the bloodlust taking hold, despite his apparent aim to ease her fears through this game.
    “Run, Savi,” he rasped.
    She didn’t; she walked backward, and watched him stalk after her. His every step was a thing of grace and beauty. His focus narrowed on her throat, then drifted down. And down. His lips parted; his teeth gleamed.
    Oh, god. Her nipples tightened beneath her palms; moisture slicked her inner thighs. Her heels hit the bottom riser. She dropped her shields.
    And he was on her, his care as he cupped her head and protected her from the impact against the floor at odds with the rip of her panties, the ravenous sounds that rose from his chest. He shoved her skirt up.
    She clutched at him to pull him inside her, but he slid out of her grasp. “Forgive me,” he said, and his mouth was on her, his tongue in her. Her back arched, her gaze skimming across the ceiling decorated with fat cherubs and lazy gods. She looked away. That wasn’t Heaven.
    This was. The sharp slide of his fangs into her flesh. His blissful moan, reverberating against her. He surveyed her from his portraits, laughing and cruel and beautiful, and she thought, Look at me. Look at what you do to me .
    But they were the parts, the sum much less than the whole—and what she thought had been exquisite