Demon Moon

his. Didn’t allow her to fall; didn’t allow her to burn.
    Don’t be afraid, sweet. Don’t be afraid .
    But even he was swept along by it, and she tasted his fear just below the ecstasy. His body plunged deep and deep, and the orgasm spread through her again, wound her higher. And then his as he came, pulsing into her, his rapture into her blood, back into his. Cycled again. And again.
    Too much .
    She shattered out from beneath him.

    Brilliant, sweet Savitri. How perfect her mind was; how clear and detailed every memory.
    She’d claimed it hadn’t hurt, and their mental link had confirmed the truth of it—but Colin was relieved when the fractures began to close, to heal. He had an eternity to repeat the process, to slip through the fissures and examine everything that made up Savi.
    That was, when she stopped showing him images of himself.
    His hair was a terrible mess, but he wasn’t surprised it looked so bloody spectacular that way. And she apparently adored it, so he’d not change it anytime soon.
    Exhaustion quickly enveloped her; the few remaining cracks surrounding her memory sealed shut, pushing him outside. She’d been using her fangs to reopen his punctures, to keep the blood flowing…but now even that effort seemed too much.
    Colin floated along with her until he couldn’t hold her up, and let her sink into the daysleep.
    Then, to his astonishment, he’d barely a moment to pull the blankets over them before it took him down as well.

    Savi woke from dreams almost as lucid as life…and they immediately began to slip away. No surprise in that; even her memory could not hold on to them—had never been able to.
    Colin lay on his stomach next to her, his face in her pillow. Not breathing; his heart beating a sluggish tempo. She slid her hand across his shoulder. Warm.
    Daysleep.
    Early for it, but perhaps the past evening had taken its toll on him. The past weeks, drinking the animal blood. She wouldn’t worry yet; it was just after sunset, but he’d always been terribly lazy, never waking the moment the sun dropped below the horizon.
    She had.
    Curling around him, she waited. Nothing felt different, though it was difficult to tell: she’d barely had enough experience with her body as a vampire. But there was no pain. Her skin was still cold. She waved her hand in front of her face; her eyes weren’t glowing, but perhaps they only did that when her shields were down, or she was afraid.
    Her ring was still missing.
    She spent fifteen minutes trying to feel around her mind for her hammerspace before she gave up. Hugh could teach her. Or Sir Pup could. What had she looked like as a wolf? Could she talk to other dogs?
    This was killing her.
    She slipped out of the bed. It would only take her a few moments. Almost sliding across the slick bathroom tile in her hurry, she stopped and stared at the mirror in surprise. Everything was the same.
    Not for long. She activated the symbols; the bedroom was spelled, and it extended into the bathroom, but this way Colin wouldn’t be disturbed when she lowered her psychic blocks and maybe even howled—
    Her reflection wavered; she faded. The shower curtain’s bold diagonal pattern appeared through her, like a double-exposed photograph. Silent screams ripped through the small room.
    She didn’t see herself transform.

    Savi prepared the breakfast out of habit, rather than hunger. Orange juice. A frozen blueberry waffle. She didn’t want to eat it.
    Why hadn’t Colin woken yet? In three minutes, she would fetch Hugh and Lilith. Two.
    She heard his first deep draw of breath, and sagged back against the counter. Listened as he shuffled into the bathroom, pulled on his pants. As the water ran, and the sound of him brushing his teeth.
    And his strangled cry of surprise.
    He was still faster than she. Before she’d taken a step, he was standing in the kitchen, looking wildly about. Her toothbrush dangled from his mouth. He pulled it out, grabbed her orange juice and gulped down half of it.
    “Colin—oh, god,” she said, and covered her face, began giggling when his lips turned down and he stuck out his tongue as if to rid it of a terrible taste. “Orange juice after mint is bad .”
    He tore off a bite of the waffle, chewed. Grimaced again. “That’s revoltingly tasteless.”
    She pointed toward the syrup.
    His gaze narrowed on her. “I’ve something sweeter in mind.” His kiss was flavored of orange and mint, and she clung to him until she was