Demon Moon

translation of Hugh’s book suggested.
    She wasn’t at all ashamed when she finally fled to Nani’s rooms with Colin in tow.
    Colin stood by the window, looking out over the gardens as Nani examined Savi’s face, her hair, her teeth.
    The henna and the platinum ring.
    “Oh, naatin ,” she finally said. “You will make me cry. This is not how things are usually done.”
    Colin smiled, leaned against the sill. “But the way things are usually done is so tedious, Nani.”
    Her own eyes starting to burn with tears, Savi shook her head. “Don’t cry. Watch. Watch.” She had to concentrate, recall everything she’d ever read about hair follicles and growth—but it was an image of her mother that made it simple: a moment later, her hair fell in a heavy cascade down her back. “I said it would be long for my wedding. I kept my promise.”
    Nani covered her face and began to shake with laughter.
    “I think we’ll have one wedding here,” Colin said. His gaze slid the length of her hair; his eyes were heated when they met hers again. “One in Bombay, and one in San Francisco. We shall shock all of your friends and relations with the extravagance and expense of it.” He scratched his jaw and added with studied innocence, “It is the bride’s family who traditionally pays for such things, is it not?”
    Nani pursed her lips. “Yes, beta . But the way things are usually done is so tedious.”
    “I fear,” Colin said minutes later as they exited the room and Savi followed him to his suite, “that I shall soon be a poor man.”
    He pulled her inside his rooms, tossed her onto his bed, landed on top of her. Wrapped her hair around his fist, and inhaled its length. “Good God. I love it short, but…good God. I shall slide it all over me. Tell me what I need to do for you to keep it this length for a month.”
    She licked his jaw, his throat. “I want a spaceship for my five thousandth birthday.”
    “Done. I’ll begin budgeting for it now.” His breath caught, then stopped as her fangs sank into him. “I shall traipse across the heavens with you, Savitri. You’d best start working on your accent; British public school is best for colonizing, even in space…oh, bloody hell, sweet, how I love you.”
    That’s the one thing that I’ve never doubted , she whispered through her skin. That I never had to ask .
    She’d just had to look at him.