Demon Moon

in desperate retreat from Castleford’s flashing blade. His muscles tightened, but he forced himself to stay where he was. Castleford wouldn’t hurt her, and she was covered in heavy, protective padding.
    Colin winced as she tripped over her feet and landed hard on the floor. Awkward, clumsy. It would take years before she was proficient, even under Castleford’s expert tutelage. He’d mentored countless Guardians over his eight centuries, but teaching the ungainly Savitri might prove his most difficult challenge.
    They began again, and Castleford landed a sharp blow against the base of her blade, sending her sword flying. Savi hissed and shook her hand against the sting, and for an instant her shields fell.
    Good God, but that fragrance was exquisite. Unable to help himself, Colin sucked in a deep breath. It was undoubtedly psychic, but somehow best experienced though scent—and his reaction was physical, as well. He quickly sat on one of the benches lining the walls.
    Her blocks rose into place, and he recovered enough to glance around, realizing that none of the other vampires—nor Guardians—had seemed to note her slip, let alone been overwhelmed by it.
    Strange, but he didn’t mind. He preferred to have it to himself.
    He looked up as a familiar dark anger swept through the building, followed by the slam of a door. Lilith. The Pentagon must have denied her request to execute the nosferatu. Bloody fools.
    “Clear out,” Castleford said softly. “Or get to the side.”
    Colin caught Savitri’s attention as she glanced toward the gym entrance. She met his gaze, and her wide-eyed curiosity narrowed into a smile of greeting. No anger? He searched for signs of irritation or wariness in her expression as she jogged over, and found none.
    He barely suppressed the urge to shake his head. What was wrong with her? Did she forgive so easily—or did she care so little?
    Neither alternative pleased him.
    She slid onto the bench next to him just as Lilith burst through the doors, her sword in hand. Sir Pup was at her heels, but immediately veered toward Savi and Colin and flopped down at Savi’s feet.
    After scratching each of his noses, she began unbuckling the padding that protected the front of her thighs; she didn’t look up as Hugh and Lilith met in the center of the gym, though the clash of their swords came fierce and loud.
    Colin glanced toward the incredible display, then at Savi’s mouth, set in a firm line. “Do you need assistance with the back?” He didn’t wait for her nod, sliding his fingers beneath the buckle behind her shoulders. She didn’t object when his hand lingered longer than necessary. He might have felt a bit of triumph, had she seemed to notice his touch. “You’ve seen them do this before.”
    She nodded and eased the padding away from her torso. Her dark T-shirt was damp with perspiration, her black hair glistening near her hairline. Colin fought to keep his inhalation inaudible.
    Even with her shields up, she smelled incredible. Warm and sweet and tangy.
    “In ten minutes they’ll be laughing. But it’s difficult to watch when they aren’t.” She rolled her shoulders. “Did you see me fall?”
    Was that embarrassment flushing her skin? He skimmed his thumb over her cheek and smiled when he felt the warmth there…when she didn’t flinch away. “Yes.”
    “My footwork sucks.”
    “Yes. As does your bladework.”
    She pulled her upper lip into her mouth, as if in contemplation, and leaned forward to watch the two combatants in the center of the room. “Hugh says that I overanalyze each movement, and it makes me slow and clumsy. That I think too much.”
    “You do.” Far too much. “And you learn too well.”
    She gave a half smile at his rueful tone before she said, “Seeing them, I believe it. They don’t have time to think, only react. Yet they’re in absolute control.” She spoke more to herself than to him, her gaze fixed on the battle as if memorizing and calculating everything before her.
    Did she apply that focus and determination to her lovemaking? He’d had a taste of it, when she’d taught him his own lesson. And that had only been a kiss.
    Heat rushed to his groin, and his fangs began to ache. In Caelum, she had been enthralled and acting almost purely on instinct. He’d been enthralled as well, and half out of his mind. Certainly no judge of pleasure. He’d had no judgment at all, but that which had proved poor.
    Stifling a groan of