Demon Moon

moan rose in his throat. Her slight weight was a delicious pressure against his rigid shaft, and she moved in time with her kiss.
    How? Why? Chocolate, fries, apples and cinnamon, lime and salt—he could not taste them, nothing but that incredible sweet flavor, the heat of her mouth.
    With each rock of her hips the ache of his cock became more exquisite, more unbearable. She suckled softly on his tongue. Yes, Savi—don’t stop. Don’t —
    Bloody hell, he was going to spend. Right here, with this slip of a girl atop him. Astounded, Colin opened his eyes, met her velvet brown gaze.
    She’d been watching him, gauging his response. Surprise and knowledge filled her psychic scent before she lowered her lids and began devouring his mouth, tasting and licking.
    His heart raced. Her fingers tugged on his hair, and she sank deeper, deeper. She worked him over as easily as he had Fia, or any of the other women he’d fed from that evening…or in the past two centuries. He couldn’t stop her—didn’t want to stop her, but she couldn’t do this to him, couldn’t, not without—
    She bit his tongue; blood flowed into his mouth. His own, but it mixed with her flavor and flashed through him, a bolt of lightning arcing along his veins. He stiffened, panted into her lips.
    She raised her head, her gaze narrowed on his face, triumph and pleasure chasing across her expression. Incredulous, he couldn’t muster the slightest embarrassment, though it was impossible for her not to realize what was happening. Her sex pressed against him. She couldn’t mistake the ecstasy that shook him. He could feel the heat of her, but the wet was his own.
    Good God . She’d made him come in his pants.
    And she’d done it with a single kiss.
    His chest heaved, and he stared at her lips. Moist and swollen. He could smell her arousal beneath that ever-present peach scent; she’d be moist and swollen everywhere.
    If someone didn’t come and save her in the next few moments, she would be in his suite and in his bed. He’d taste every inch, just to see if it was only her mouth, or all of her.
    He was going to eat her up.
    “It must be the hellhound venom,” she said, and sighed. The soft curves of her breasts pressed against the silk blouse, her nipples outlined by crimson.
    And he wouldn’t let her go. Not again. Vows and sisters and friends be damned.
    “Or the nosferatu blood,” she added, her voice thoughtful. She no longer slurred her words; had she sobered so quickly? She touched his lower lip.
    Scarlet dotted her fingertip: his blood. Dread slipped through him; he caught her hand and frowned up at her.
    “Did you swallow any?”
    Another scent intruded on his senses; not physical, but psychic. Sickly sweet and rotting. Familiar. He shook it away. Impossible that it was here—it was only a memory, a hallucination brought on by his fear that she might have ingested his tainted blood.
    “I think so,” she said quietly. “It must be why I’m burning. Why I have been for hours.”
    Hours? Unease settled in his stomach. He slid his hand around her hip, under her shirt, and felt the skin on her back.
    Hot. He’d expected that, from the exertion of dancing and the arousal between them. But there was no perspiration, none of the cooling slick sweat that should have accompanied it.
    Dry. Feverish.
    Her strange statement from a moment before struck him now, made him tense. “You swallowed venom?”
    “I had to get it into his blood. I spit it.” She blinked slowly. Her eyes were bright, glassy. “It doesn’t harm humans or halflings.”
    “If they’re bitten ,” he said through clenched teeth. Why hadn’t Castleford told her of the dangers possible, that there was still so much unknown? “God knows what it does if you drink it. And the nosferatu blood? Did you ingest that, too?”
    “It was spraying everywhere—in my mouth. Someone grabbed me when I was running, and I swallowed. It must have mixed with the venom a little. Not very much.”
    Beneath her fragrance, the psychic stink of rot grew stronger. He fought to control it; he’d been months without the flashbacks striking with such intensity. Why now? Could he not have one memory of her left untainted by Chaos?
    “Why didn’t you tell me before? How long have you been like this?”
    “The car.” She took rapid, shallow breaths. “The venom tasted like a peach, but I rinsed out my mouth on the plane.”
    He reached into his pocket for his phone. “You’re