Demon Moon

supposed to be smart, Savitri.”
    “You fuck with my brain, vampire. And every time I’ve been with you I’ve been enthralled or drunk, so I can’t think.”
    Her body swayed before she jerked herself upright again.
    “Christ.” He pulled her tight against his chest and pushed the auto-dial for Lilith’s cell. Bloody fantastic job protecting her . How could he not have noticed the fever? He’d only thought of his cock and his fangs and her mouth.
    She’d twisted him up; he’d been out of his mind. That scent…from a fucking dog .
    “You smell so good,” she said against his neck, and her tongue swiped over his skin. He closed his throat against his groan of pleasure. She was delirious; even he wouldn’t take advantage of her now.
    A violent commotion came from the entrance of the club. Only a few vampires lingered inside, slowly gathering their things. Colin looked up as they stopped and turned toward the sound.
    A sharp, male shriek of pain followed a deep shout of warning. Varney.
    Colin opened his senses, searching for the source of the threat, and the putrid stink swept into his mind. He forced himself not to gag. Not to scream.
    “Colin? Colin!”
    Lilith’s voice in his ear pulled him back from the edge. What the—
    Savitri . He compelled the words from his frozen tongue. “Savi ingested hellhound venom and nosferatu blood. She’s taken fever.”
    Colin closed the phone and dropped it, then slapped his hand against the wall. The panel sprang open.
    Savi slid from his lap. Even in this state, she must have realized he needed to move.
    “Stay here.”
    She nodded, and rubbed her face to rouse herself.
    He selected two swords and rose to his feet. A dark form streaked across the dance floor, headed directly toward them.
    Icy fear splintered in his gut, cut through the numbness.
    A wyrmwolf. Scales and exposed flesh. Not as large as a hellhound, with only one head, but almost as deadly. Sweat broke over his skin. How could it be here? It couldn’t be here; no Gate led from Earth to Chaos, no portal. The only anchor to that realm was in Colin’s blood, and the only access through him.
    Had he brought it back? Could he never escape it? Did he have to pay for one foolish mistake for eternity?
    A vampire tried to stop the wyrmwolf, and lost his arm to a quick tear from its jaws.
    Screams echoed through the club.
    “Bloody fucking hell,” Colin muttered, and ran to intercept it.

    Savi had never seen anything like the battle that followed— couldn’t see most of it. Only a flash of swords, then two figures blurring as they moved. An instant in which they paused, caught in a violent tableau of blades and fangs.
    She looked away once, toward those watching with her. The vampires’ expressions were easy to interpret: horror and awe. They could see what was happening. Why didn’t they help him?
    But Colin didn’t need it. He stopped suddenly, angling his left sword up like a batsman after smashing a cricket ball, his chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat.
    The creature’s head hit the wall and thudded to the floor.
    The strength left her body at the same time, and she slipped down, laid her cheek against the sofa cushion. The heat burned through her, but she couldn’t feel it anymore. Only tired, so tired.
    Through half-closed eyes, she saw Colin return to her side, his gaze fierce upon her. Blood spread over one ivory sleeve, and from a slash on his thigh.
    He lifted her from the sofa and began walking toward his suite. Her head swam.
    “They have five seconds,” he said softly.
    Who? Before what? She couldn’t make the effort to form the questions. Jet lag? A strange time for it, when she was flying, flying.
    Colin’s arms tightened around her, and he shuddered. “Castleford. Michael.” His voice was flat. “And as usual, you’ve arrived too bloody late.”



CHAPTER 5

    I have determined that I shall have a holiday in Switzerland. A change of scenery shall do wonders for my digestion, though, but for P——, the company probably will not. They are exceedingly curious about vampires; but I have a personal dislike for “Poets,” and the little acquaintance I have with one in particular will not induce me to divulge my secrets .
    —Colin to Ramsdell, 1816

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