Demon Moon

force she could muster. Perhaps she could take out all of this pent-up frustration in some kind of exercise; at least Colin’s hold on her seemed to have faded. She could move now.
    Sir Pup streaked away.
    Colin had half-turned to allow her room to throw. His features were curiously blank when he glanced back at her. “What do you think I’ve done to you?”
    “That thing with your eyes,” she said. “Keeping me here, though I know I should leave.”
    “The thing with my—” He broke off. His gaze roamed over her face. Suddenly, his focus narrowed on her mouth, became sharp and predatory.
    She took a step back.
    “Oh, Savitri,” he murmured. “You should have left when you had the opportunity.”
    “I couldn’t.”
    “It was not my doing.” He inhaled, and his lids half-lowered, as if in ecstasy. “ This is physical. Your arousal.”
    Her eyes widened.
    So did his, and he laughed with dark amusement. “You did not realize. But you know desire, Savitri. I was not the first.”
    Far from it. She looked down at her hands. They shook. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples tight and aching. Heat and moisture pooled between her legs. Her heart pounded.
    It was her shields. She’d never been very good at listening to her body’s cues; she could easily pass through a day without recognizing hunger or exhaustion—and when she held her psychic shields up it became worse.
    Sir Pup returned with the ball. Colin quickly took it from between the massive jaws, pivoted, and snapped his arm. The hellhound disappeared again.
    “A variable removed,” he said. “Shall we conduct an experiment, Savitri? Discover at what point your shields fail?”
    “No.” Her eyes held his. “I won’t let them.”
    “But you feel it now.” He brushed his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip. “I have the same difficulty at times; the bloodlust is so overwhelming I do not realize I’m hard until I’m inside her.”
    Her lips parted. She remembered all too well how that had felt: full, incredibly full. Surrounded by beauty, filled with it.
    Now she seemed hollow, empty.
    His smile faded, and the longing in his gaze reflected hers. “I know that, too. Your shields are strong, Savi, but your face is easy to read.” His fingertips brushed her cheekbone, a simple caress. “Invite me in. I can’t give you Caelum, but I can give you rapture. And we’ll both have what we want.”
    She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t trust you.”
    She waited breathlessly for his angry response, but he remained silent. His hand drifted down; his thumb strummed over her pulse. Oh, god. She couldn’t hide its frantic beat. Did he think it was fear?
    Unable to bear the tension, she looked up. “What are you doing?”
    His gaze was cold, hungry. “Deciding if taking what I want is worth the losses it will incur.”
    Hugh and Lilith. “They’d kill you if you do it against my will.”
    “Yes. And so I must consider another option: earning your trust, so that you’ll open to me.”
    Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “You want to be friends? At the same time announcing your ulterior motives? That your aim is not truly friendship, but to get into my head and my throat? Your methods are flawed, to say the least.”
    “I enjoy your company. Do you not mine?” He phrased it as a question, but his tone said she must.
    And she did, too much for sense. “When you aren’t being a complete ass.”
    He laughed, and his eyes warmed. “I particularly enjoy that aspect of your company. We shall call it an experiment, to see if we can get along.” He removed his hand and shrugged carelessly. “And as Lilith mentioned you are soon to be married, I cannot, in good conscience, tie you to my bed and conduct multiple experiments on you in order to achieve my goals.”
    Her breath caught. “But you could in bad conscience?”
    “Exceedingly bad.” He looked down at his wrists and pulled on his shirt cuffs, the white edges in stark contrast to the dark jacket sleeves. He had beautiful hands, his fingers long and graceful. Genetics, but the power in them was still a mystery to her, their appearance concealing unnatural strength.
    And now hers did, too.
    “I assume it is an arranged marriage. Are you engaged?”
    Was he bored by such topics, only asking out of politeness? His tone and his primping suggested it. She forced herself to look away from his hands, up to his face, and caught the sharp gleam of interest before he blinked.
    She