Demon Night

seemed to break the reticence of a couple who had only sat and watched for several days. They joined her at the bar, and though Charlie’s anxiety never quieted, the familiar roll of conversation made the weight of his absence easier to bear.
    She was in the office and the lounge was empty when Ethan finally returned, his coat dark with rain. The one-way mirror didn’t give her an advantage; she couldn’t read his expression, and her stomach was still heavy as she prepared the night deposit, her feet dragging when she finished and pushed through the door to the lounge.
    And she had no idea what to say, so she only said, “You’re wet.”
    Ethan’s gaze was steady on hers. “It’s coming down pretty hard, and I’m pretty fuzzed up,” he said quietly. “Maybe we’d best hold off on the visiting tonight and go on home.”
    The heaviness lifted a little, and she didn’t let guilt take its place. They wouldn’t be out there looking for Jane—but neither she nor Ethan would be very useful going out like this, anyway.
    She nodded and turned toward the employees’ door again, listened to his footsteps as he followed her through the kitchen to the alley. Just inside the exit, she paused to slide on her coat. Ethan caught her hand, pulled her against him.
    He circled her waist with his arm. His gaze lit on her hair, and he smiled slightly. His hat was damp and heavy; he covered her head with it, then slid his fingers along the flat brim, tipping it up so she could see him again. “You might need to hold on to it when we’re in the air.”
    She flattened her hand over the crown, and he swept her into the familiar cradle of his arms.
    It was pouring, raindrops beating against the pavement, splashing and dancing like thousands of tiny sparkling fountains. Each one clear to her vision, each one separate and part of a glorious whole.
    Her arm tightened around his neck. “Ethan,” she whispered, wonder swelling her throat. “Look at that.”
    “It gets better, Miss Charlie.”
    She glanced up as his wings unfolded and cut a swath through the silver curtain of falling rain. Her breath caught. For an instant, the diamond drops clung to his feathers before their downward sweep flung them in glittering arcs.
    “Oh, my God,” she laughed, and met his eyes. A line formed between his brows, and she smoothed it away with her thumb. “You couldn’t see it,” she said. “But you were amazing.”
    He stared at her before clearing his throat, but his voice still sounded rough to her ears. “I aim to please.”
    “You do.” She laid her cheek against his shoulder and held on to the hat as he launched them into the air. It was always with speed, straight and high; but once he gained enough altitude, he usually slowed his flight. This time, he hovered.
    “Now look at this,” he said quietly. “It only lasts as long as it’s raining this hard.”
    She turned in his arms, and suddenly couldn’t breathe. The city was blanketed in shimmering silver, with colors shooting through like the facets of a jewel: the garnets and emeralds of traffic signals, the diamond-bright streetlights, the soft topaz from square-cut windows.
    But even as she watched, the downpour eased. Ethan sighed and leveled out, heading east. His hair was plastered against his head; they were both soaked to the skin, her clothes uncomfortable and clinging, her coat sodden. She’d only worn it to keep off the rain, but now it was just an extra weight.
    “Will you take this?” She tugged at her collar, and her fingertips met when the drenched fabric between them vanished. The lake slid by below them, dark and flat. She lifted her gaze to Ethan’s face, but he was looking down.
    She recognized his expression. Hunger, arousal. It pulled at her own, and his lids lowered as if he felt it.
    No, she realized. He’d seen it beneath the thin, pale pink cotton of her wet shirt. Her nipples had tightened under that intense focus—and now she was thinking of his hands, his lips.
    “Son of a bitch,” he said on a soft growl. His mouth closed over her breast with shocking heat. She arched toward him, and her stomach dropped as they swooped.
    He immediately straightened out their flight, but didn’t halt the movement of his tongue, his teeth. Her fingers clenched on his shoulder, his hat. Her head fell back, the rain misting over her face, her eyes, and the lights at the shore wavering as they flew in closer. She could see the house, and she knew they