Demon Moon

replaced the despair. He glanced over her shoulder, then back to search her features, as if to determine if she was serious. “Savi—”
    She wouldn’t let herself think of what they’d see. “How far can you sense me, if my shields are completely down, and I’m projecting? A couple of miles? Will you feel it while you sleep?”
    His eyes widened, and he raised his hands to her face. His fingers trembled as he smoothed his thumbs along her eyebrows, then lowered his hands to cup her jaw. “I think so. Yes. God, if there is any mercy in the world for the cursed, then it will be yes.”
    She had to rise up on her toes to meet his lips; he dropped one arm to her waist and lifted her against him. Exhausted, but strong enough to hold her.
    Her shields fell away, and he sighed into her mouth, a soft, grateful exhalation. Though she could feel the need in him, he kissed her lightly, with a quick sweep of his tongue between her lips that would be imperceptible to their audience.
    Not wanting to embarrass her with a more sexual display? Or an unwillingness to have more than this without privacy between them? He hadn’t taken such care at Polidori’s—was it the difference in his regard for those who shared the room, or a difference in his regard for her?
    It didn’t matter; it was care, and it slipped into her and wrapped itself around her heart.
    He broke the kiss gently. Then, watching her with an expression of surprise, as if she’d done something beyond his understanding, he set her feet on the floor.
    But she couldn’t stop falling.
    “Michael,” Lilith said, and her voice was strained, as if she was trying not to burst into laughter, “I think it’s best that you take him now.”
    “We’ll send along Sir Pup in a few minutes, Colin,” Hugh added. “He can watch for the demon as you sleep.”
    Never tearing his astonished gaze from Savi’s, Colin nodded his agreement.
    He disappeared a moment later. Savi stared at her reflection in the dark glass, then saw Hugh in the background, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking. Lilith wasn’t holding hers in anymore. Even Sir Pup was grinning.
    Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to turn and look at them.
    Lilith flashed her teeth in a wicked grin. “I never thought I’d see the day when Colin didn’t protest Sir Pup coming to his house.”
    “Or kissing a woman as if his life depended on it.” Hugh finally lifted his head, and wiped at his eyes. He sobered quickly. “But then, maybe it does.”
    “Maybe it does.” Lilith’s gaze narrowed. “Are you going to tell us what happened in Caelum?”
    “No,” Savi said. But she wouldn’t have a chance against both of them if they pressed for answers. She turned to Selah, whose face was impassive but for the amusement sparkling from her blue eyes. “Please take pity on a poor human, and teleport me the hell out of here.” When the Guardian hesitated and looked to Hugh, she added, “You’d be thwarting Lilith. Didn’t she beat you up and chain you to Colin’s bed last year? Consider this a form of payback.”
    Selah vanished, then instantly reappeared by Savi’s side. She held out her hand, an impish smile widening her cupid’s-bow mouth. Savi took it gratefully. “Home, please.”
    “You manipulative little slut!” Lilith gasped in mock outrage. They teleported away to the sound of Hugh’s laughter.
    Not manipulation. Self-preservation.



CHAPTER 13

    Disaster has struck my poor friend. I do not know if I am to blame; I only know that he is dead .
    —Colin to Ramsdell, 1821

    Once the world righted itself again, Colin regretted he hadn’t been more specific in his destination. When he’d projected an image of his bed to give Michael an anchor, he’d assumed Michael would take him to Polidori’s.
    But he was in his newly refinished Haight-Ashbury home—in his bedroom—and the Doyen’s attention had been arrested by the paintings hanging against every available inch of wall space at one end of the suite.
    The enormous third-floor room with its vaulted ceilings was almost empty of furniture—only a wide, tufted chaise longue was centered in the gallery. His bed dominated the other end, its heavy, chocolate-brown velvet curtains tied back in welcome. The turrets flanking the northern end of the house served as his dressing room and shower; each circular room was open to the main suite, and subtly decorated.
    The paintings served as the focal point of the room,