Demon Moon

structure of your memory that prevents me.”
    “But you heard me. The surface thoughts.”
    “Yes.” With an expression almost achingly tender, his gaze roamed over her face. “And they gave me more pleasure than your blood, your taste, or your scent. I could not have hoped for more, Savitri.”
    She had to speak through the tightness in her throat, the swelling in her chest. “I heard you, too.” A berry liquefied under her knife, and she fought to control her frustration.
    It wasn’t as if she wished for forever—just the rest of her life.
    “I’d no idea you could,” he said quietly, and she realized he wouldn’t have asked her to stay if he had known. Was he trying to protect her? Far too late.
    He tilted his head to the side, and added, “I suppose I’m a right cad. I typically don’t think at all during the feeding, let alone stay to chat about it afterward.”
    She bit her lip against her laugh. With the flat of her blade, she scooped up the strawberries and dumped them into her yogurt bowl atop blueberries and mango slices. When she turned back around, Colin had an orange waiting.
    She shook her head. “I can’t eat that much.”
    “It’s my favorite.” His ridiculously charming—beguiling—smile made its appearance.
    “Oh, god.” She wiped her fingers onto a paper towel, leaving a bright pink stain. “You’re trying to stuff me with food. Nani does this to me.”
    “I have good reason. You’re eating for two.”
    She braced her palms against the countertop, her body shaking with laughter. “That’s the worst joke I’ve ever heard,” she said when she could breathe again.
    “You lived with Castleford too long for me to believe that.” He fluttered his lashes. “In any case, you’ll forgive me.”
    “Not likely; it was really bad,” she said, but reached for the orange and sliced it down the center. His lids lowered fractionally, and he inhaled—he truly enjoyed the burst of fragrance. She found a glass, set it in front of him with both halves of the orange. “Squeeze the hell out of it.”
    He arched a brow.
    She arched hers. “I’ve earned my juice. And you’re stronger than I am.”
    “It seems that I am not,” he said as he pushed his sweater sleeves over his forearms and picked up the orange. “How have you manipulated me into performing manual labor? I shall have to weaken you, put you wholly under my glorious vampiric power. Oh, good God, this smells incredible.”
    She stared at his wrists, his flexing fingers. “Did I mention that the sight of your hands drives me absolutely insane ?”
    He looked up from the pulped orange, his gaze heated. “Then I shall pulverize fruit by the ton.”
    She rolled another toward him. “Six ounces will do. I’m easy.”
    “Sweet Christ, you will grind me beneath your heel. I love nothing so much as easy women who worship my hands.”
    “And lips,” she reminded him.
    He tossed the orange carcass into the sink with a flick of his wrist. “Let us see if I can put both to good use.” Her heartbeat quickened, but he only cast a wicked grin her way before lifting her glass and bowl from the counter. “Come along. I intend to drive you mad.”
    “With hunger?” She trailed after him, admiring the line of his back. He began climbing the stairs, and she sighed with pleasure. Every bit of him was gorgeous. “Do you mind if I objectify you?”
    “Please do,” he said over his shoulder. “Particularly my knees, as they are oft-neglected.”
    “Maybe if you ever got your pants off, they wouldn’t be.”
    “It hardly matters, sweet; once they’ve come off, the attention isn’t likely to center on my absurdly handsome knees.”
    She almost tripped over her feet laughing, and was pleased when she noted Colin wasn’t too steady, either. “We’ll have to experiment tonight, and see what draws my attention,” she said as she followed him into the music room. “I promise not to remove any variables.”
    He grinned in response, but it ended on a slight grimace. Turning away, he set her bowl on a side table that flanked the wide bay window.
    “What is it?” She accepted the juice and sank into the window seat. Pulling up her feet, she leaned back against the cushions. A view of the street and front landscaping stretched out to her right. Colin sat at the piano.
    What could her remark have reminded him of? “Was it something Dalkiel did?” She hadn’t seen most of what had taken place in the gazebo, only heard it.