Demon Moon

nothing subtle about it, and it catered to anyone who wanted spicy fare and an atmosphere that screamed foreign, exotic, and unreal.
    And it smelled incredible—Savitri, saturated. The few times he’d accompanied Lilith and Castleford, Colin had left starving, salivating, his hunts more desperate, the bloodlust deep.
    He dared not attempt several hours inside without soothing it first.
    Music pounded from the Bentley’s speakers; he’d turned it on to cover the silence that had fallen between them—the lull had been awkward for him, but apparently not for Savitri. He’d hoped she would interrogate him on his latest obsession with British punk, but she’d only closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest.
    She looked at him when he lowered the volume, then frowned as he pulled over in front of the restaurant and double-parked beside a green sedan. “You aren’t coming in? No kiss for Nani?”
    He watched her features carefully as he said, “I need to feed.”
    Her lips parted. “I assumed you’d already…” She smiled brightly, then gathered her bag from the floorboard. “It’s probably best if you go anyway; she’ll just try to force you to eat.” She blinked. “Eat food . Well, I’ll see you later then. Nani will give me a ride home after we close, so don’t worry about that.”
    That inane babbling. That ridiculously sunny smile. She’d worn the same expression outside Castleford’s house while thanking him for the night at the club. The smile that meant she’d thrown her shields up full-force.
    “I’ll return when I’ve finished,” he assured her.
    “Why?” Her smile wavered before it fixed to her lips again. She swung open the door and stepped out. “Oh. Of course. Happy hunting, Colin.”
    Bloody fucking hell. “Savi—” The door didn’t slam; its design prevented such inelegant noise, no matter the force with which it closed. And she couldn’t have heard him. He clenched his jaw and wiped away the congealed drops on the dash.
    The bell above the restaurant door jingled as she disappeared inside.
    Why? Her question, and one she’d quickly answered for herself. He’d hoped his mention of feeding would pique her curiosity, stir her arousal. But he’d only succeeded in reminding her why he’d begun this slow chase and seduction, reducing the desire and budding friendship between them to fangs, blood, and his pursuit of her scent.
    A horn blared behind him. He suppressed a crude gesture and slid back into traffic. When had she forgotten his motives, that remembering them had engendered such a reaction? Certainly not on the ride over. So what new fear had he inadvertently raised?
    Unless it was not fear, but jealousy—and she’d reinforced her shields to prevent him from sensing it.
    Oh, sweet Savitri. He was grinning as he found a space in a parking lot two blocks away. The more he considered the notion, the more it made sense and the better it pleased him. An emotional entanglement might initially frighten her, but if he cultivated it along with her physical attraction, she’d be more likely to overcome any scruples she might have had in straying from her future husband.
    Poor sod. No matter how suitable he proved to be, he was going to lose Savi before he’d met her.
    Colin tucked his hands into his pockets and wandered from the parking lot to the courtyard of an apartment complex. He leaned his shoulder against a wooden trellis and waited; someone should happen by before too long. A more fascinating hunt waited back at Auntie’s—tonight, he’d let his prey come to him.
    A tired, feminine sigh alerted him to the woman’s presence before he saw her through the beveled-glass security door. She was dressed to go out in a flirty pink dress and heels, but she’d topped it with a worn beige coat. The bloodlust rose up within him, and he stroked his tongue against his fangs, soothing the hungry ache.
    Short dark hair.
    He shifted impatiently when she paused in the lobby to check her mailbox; disturbed by his movement, the air swirled and the odor of rot wafted around him. Feed . Warily, he tested the scent—winter cuttings, mulch.
    Just a false association. He forced the memory away, recalled himself to the woman as she neared his location.
    She couldn’t overlook him; beside the concrete walk, landscaping lights flooded the trellis and surrounding greenery. He’d deliberately selected a well-illuminated spot. Her fingers tightened on her purse strap and she