Demon Moon

Savi. Remember.” The other man’s hand brushed over her face. Her hair had grown; Castleford lifted ebony strands from her eyes, from her cheek. Dark fur formed a patchwork over her arms, her back. “The first year at Stanford, your anatomy class—you came home and told me you were going to cut the rest of the term because you’d memorized the book in three days. You know where everything goes, where it belongs. You’ve got to put it back.”
    Savi groaned—her flesh groaned as her legs pulled into a human form. But not hers; the skin was too pale, the bones too thick.
    “That’s good, Savi,” Castleford said, though the glance he gave her feet betrayed his concern. “Just like in the textbook—now remember the last time you bathed, the last time you soaped your legs. The texture, the shape.”
    Her shivering increased. A high-pitched whine sounded from between her clenched teeth.
    Castleford quickly said, “Your first kiss. You remember it perfectly; go back, Savi.”
    The tortured noises faded. Behind him, Lilith breathed a sigh of relief as the line of Savi’s chin smoothed into a contour unmistakably hers, though fragile, immature.
    Michael’s focus on Savi lessened; he looked away from the pair on the floor and signed, Lilith, contact SI. I left the nosferatu paralyzed, but unsecured. I had no time to alert them before we teleported .
    Lilith released Colin, reached for the phone.
    Colin crawled forward. Castleford was searching for something more personal, more intimate for Savi to cleave to. Her first kiss had likely been before he’d taught her to block the anxiety attacks. In the shower, she’d have had her shields up. In bed, she did until she used pain to get past them.
    He did not want her to rebuild herself with memories of pain.
    “Savi, love.” Her face turned toward Colin’s whisper. Her eyes still shone red, though not as brightly. Her mouth and jaw were a young girl’s. Colin grasped her hand. Her once-slim fingers had thickened, curled; the platinum band cut into her knuckle. “Go back to Caelum, by the fountain. My paintbrush on your palm. Do you feel it?”
    She sucked in a harsh breath; her wrist cracked in his grip. Colin couldn’t make himself look.
    Castleford glanced at her hand, nodded. More , he signed.
    Vaguely, Colin was aware that Michael vanished—that Lilith was arming herself, preparing to leave.
    He pushed those distractions away. His fingertips trailed up her forearm, over the delicate veins and muscle. “The henna, here.” Her skin rippled and softened. “My lips, here.” He brushed his thumb across her mouth and watched in awe as it widened, sliding into the lovely, full shape he’d never taste enough. He continued, traced every inch, recalling her to his paintbrush or his touch—and to the pool reflecting her face, her hair. Her skin slowly cooled…and cooled, until he feared the contact might burn her.
    Finally, her eyes cleared to a rich brown and locked with his. “I love you so bloody much,” she said. Exhaustion deepened it, but her voice was her own, her accent still horrid.
    She kissed him before his relieved laughter died, and she threatened to make him lose all sense—until he felt the sharp press of her fangs against his lips. She grinned against his mouth, broke away and reached up to test their length.
    He smiled for her. She was a vampire—a powerful, nosferatu-born vampire. She’d live forever.
    And he’d lose her within days.

    Savi hadn’t known vampires could sleep during the night, but she must have done so; when she awoke, twilight had descended outside her apartment windows. Following her transformation, she’d slept the whole of the evening, and then throughout the day.
    She sighed as she threw the blankets back. It was too much to hope that, like Colin, she’d be resistant to the sun and the daysleep. He’d have to occupy himself every day while she slept.
    She stood up, and the floorboards screeched beneath her feet. She stumbled forward; the swish of her cotton pajamas roared as loud as a storm-tumbled ocean, her breath a monsoon. Paint, varnish, the month-old scents of spice and incense scorched her mouth and lungs.
    Oh, god . She bent over, covered her ears to the sandpapery scrape of her palms against the fragile cartilage. Now the wet pulsing through her veins, the beat of her heart.
    Footsteps approached like planets crashing together, but in space it was silent, not here, not here.
    “Shh,” Colin said,