Demon Moon

as if it were her instead of everything around them. “Just as you would use your shields, Savi—block it out.”
    Block it out. She panted against his chest. His cologne clung to his shirt. It smelled wonderful, each note perfectly realized, some she hadn’t scented before.
    And his skin…god, Colin’s blood .
    Silk shredded under her fingers. Heat streaked from her mouth to her nipples, her belly, her sex; her fangs ached and she rubbed her tongue against them. She was so slick and wet and she could almost taste it in the air.
    His palms cupped her jaw. “No, Savi.” His grip was gentle, immovable. “You can’t. We can’t.”
    She tried to rise up, to kiss his neck, to bite that strong beautiful throat. “I need this, I need—” Blood and fucking.
    But the urge died when she lifted her gaze to his face. “I know,” he said brokenly, and pressed his closed mouth to her open lips, a kiss flavored by mint and salt.
    I can taste you . It hovered on her tongue, until she realized why he’d stopped her from tasting him fully. Why he didn’t drink from her.
    “Oh, god.” Her hands ran over his face, his hair. Memory of the aborted shape-shifting ripped through her; even now, her body felt oily, her joints and muscles loose beneath her skin.
    And Colin hadn’t seen himself for two hundred years .
    She couldn’t risk feeding him even a day or two a month; he couldn’t feed her at all. Both tainted. They’d both have to take blood elsewhere, and she’d never be able to pretend that the sex didn’t go along with it. “What are we going to do?”
    He had no answer.

    “Look, Sir Pup, you’re a daddy now,” Lilith said when they came downstairs to the kitchen. The hellhound hopped in place, grinning hugely with his three heads.
    Savi laughed despite herself and covered her nose; Sir Pup stank of sulphur and rot. She’d never noticed it before—had never noticed any smell from him.
    “Is that his psychic scent?” Her palm muffled her words, but still they reverberated in her ears. She focused. Blocked it out.
    Colin shook his head. “Wyrmwolf. Quite a few got through last night.”
    “And we had quite the hunt. Unfortunately, we didn’t catch Ariphale.” Lilith’s voice darkened. She stood at the counter wearing leather and boots, food spread haphazardly in front of her as if she was stopping for a quick refuel before heading back out.
    “He escaped?”
    Lilith swallowed hard, her mouth a tight line. “And killed Sam and Vanessa on his way out. Not that Washington cares.”
    Two vampires. Savi’s stomach churned.
    Colin’s brows drew together, his tone sharp. “Do not think that; it wasn’t an exchange. It wasn’t in trade.”
    “No, it was just a massive fuckup by Michael,” Lilith said.
    Hugh entered the room—to Savi’s surprise, as his movements were almost soundless. “Though an understandable one. Even the Doyen doesn’t make a habit of imprisoning nosferatu instead of slaying them, surviving attacks from dragons, and handling a shape-shifting gone awry—all the while holding a brain intact.”
    Lilith’s lips quirked. “Then by me, for not killing Ariphale when I wanted to, and just lying to the assholes in the Pentagon.”
    “That, I agree with,” Hugh said. He turned to Savi. “Are you well?”
    How could she answer that? She was strong, immortal—and her heart ached so badly she wanted to tear it from her chest.
    She could tear it from her chest; it was a startling realization.
    “As well as can be expected. I can defeat a nosferatu on a plane, but not three vampires at a time. My odds sucked.”
    “Particularly as they were starving vampires,” Colin said easily, though it seemed difficult for him to manage his light tone. “Dalkiel must’ve prevented their feeding whilst awaiting our return.”
    “Well, we should really have known better than to run to the basement, especially after he saw me take you downstairs last week. He knew I’d go there if anything threatened—and we rushed right on down. Stupid of me.”
    “Of us.”
    “Stupid of the golden boy; Michael should’ve killed Dalkiel when he was there.” Lilith stole an amused glance at Hugh. “Even with the dragon bite.”
    “Forgive me for disagreeing,” Colin said, “but I’m pleased he made Savi his priority.”
    “So am I,” Savi said.
    Hugh smiled; his blue gaze was steady on hers, assessing. “Have you eaten?”
    “No.”
    “Do you need mine? You can consider it a wedding