Demon Moon

effort. We’ll not be challenged again.”
    “I can’t live like a glorified parasite off the employees at Polidori’s—and do you want to go in every night wondering who I fucked and fed from? It would kill me. It would hurt you.”
    “There are humans,” he said tightly. “You’ll not have to see them again; neither will I.”
    “But humans will remember—I’ll be able to heal them and they won’t have any evidence, but they won’t forget me. I’ll risk exposing all of us if I stay in one place and feed from a different human every night. And the vampire communities aren’t ready for—”
    “Bloody hang everyone!” His teeth clenched; she could hear them grinding together in his effort to control his response.
    “I can do it.” Her throat ached. “I have money. I can create all of the necessary IDs and different identities so that I can’t be easily traced. I can alter or erase any financial trail. Even if someone realizes there’s a pattern, it’ll be hard for them to pin me down. And once vampires go public, I won’t have to.”
    “You’ll run for a decade?”
    “It’s not running.” She forced a smile. He couldn’t see it, but it made it easier to lie to herself. “It’s hunting. You were happy. Why can’t I be?”
    “Because, my sweet Savitri, you are not me.”
    “Then I’ll be content knowing that you are happy. You loved hunting for two hundred years, and when you go back to it, it’ll be just as good as ever.”
    “That’s a sodding pile of bullshite, Savi. I was not in love for two hundred years.”
    “So we’re both going to be miserable?” She tried to move, and could not. She kicked her legs at him in frustration. “Why won’t you let me look at you? I’m going to leave tomorrow and you won’t even let me see you one more fucking time?”
    “Because I need it more than I need the next beat of my heart.” His breath shuddered against her neck; his chest heaved against her back. “What use is a reflection when I’ve you to see me and think me beautiful? And if you look at me again, I simply don’t know that I could let you go. Oh, Christ, sweet—don’t cry. I cannot bear your tears.”
    “I can’t yours. I can’t any of this.”
    But what other choice did they have but to bear it? His blood burned humans and vampires from within; her blood might physically transform him into something terrible, something unrecognizable.
    The honey-gold sheet glowed orange. She covered her face, pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Nosferatu-born. Hellhound-born.
    She’d already burned…had she been tempered by it or weakened?
    “I’m strong,” she whispered.
    His eyelashes tickled the short ends of her hair as they swept down. “My vanity is immense,” he said. “In two hundred years, there has been little that I’ve obsessed over as much as my appearance.” Her heart constricted, until he added, “And there is nothing about which I’ve more certainty.”
    They lay in silence. She could not stop shaking. Her body would rattle itself apart. His mental image of himself was solid; his portraits were evidence of it. But would it be enough to save him? Would the method of her transformation be enough to save her? Or would it kill them? What hadn’t they considered…what couldn’t they consider, because they just didn’t know?
    There were too many variables; it was impossible to predict an outcome. They could only hope the odds were stacked in their favor.
    “Savitri,” Colin said softly, and she turned to him. “Perhaps we should see what comes next.”
    Her shivers eased. His cheeks were warm and wet beneath her questing fingers. “Are you sure?”
    He nodded tightly. “It is well worth the risk.”
    It was to herself, but she risked him, too. Still, she rose up on her knees, and when he sat up against the headboard, she swung her leg across his hips, straddled him. “Oh, god. Oh, god.” She kissed him, pulled back to look, then kissed him again. “We’re so stupid. This is so stupid.”
    “Mad. Reckless.” His mouth was warm against her frantic lips. “I love you, Savi. I love you.” He pushed into her. Her back arched. So good. If she died, it would be like this.
    But she wanted more. “Will you lower your shields?”
    His eyes widened for an instant; then he laughed softly and a heady, textured scent flooded the air. Citrus. Sandalwood.
    “Oh, god. It’s just like your cologne. But better.”
    “My cologne,” he said,