Demon Night

people about. And maybe I’d push up your skirt, and I’d just lean forward and drink from you, long and deep, until you was crying for me to feed you in turn—”
    “Oh, Jesus.” Her grip tightened on his. He couldn’t send her images, but the picture he’d created in her mind was just as clear. “You’re cheating.”
    “No,” he said, his tone suddenly grim. “I just ain’t playing fair. Because being with you like this is real good, Miss Charlie, but I miss being with you something fierce.”
    “I do, too. But, Ethan, I know myself too well. If I ask, I won’t stop needing it.” Just the thought brought the knot back to her stomach, heavy and taut.
    “All right, then.” He withdrew his hands, and she closed her eyes, fighting back the need to grab hold of him. The familiar click of plastic against the counter had her opening them again, and she stared down at a tiny picture of herself. “Savi sent this up with me,” Ethan said. “Your driver’s license, as requested.”
    She said something that might have been a thanks, and slid the ID into her apron pocket.
    Ethan seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before he added, “And I’ve got something for you as well, but it’s a mite too big to give you here.”
    She wanted to laugh, to make a joke—so that he’d blush; so that he’d tell her to hush—but that tiny hesitation had her trying to read his inscrutable expression, instead. “What is it?” she asked warily.
    An envelope appeared on the counter, and she opened it, her brow creasing. “A title for a car?”
    He gave a slow nod. “So as you won’t have to rely on anyone to get around.” His fingers clenched slightly. “Particularly me. Until I have you figured, leastwise.”
    “Oh.” She stared at the papers, her chest aching. The few minutes per day suddenly seemed to shrink into nothing. Suck it up. “Okay. Thank you.”
    His mouth thinned. “You’ll have to arrange for insurance before you can drive it, however—so I’ll still be taking you home tonight.”
    Relief swept through her. God, she should just end this. Should just live with him, even if it meant continually fighting the need to ask him, no matter how powerful it grew. But she’d never had a need this great; she didn’t know if she could be that strong.
    She was still debating when he set her down in front of the lake house, and the car appeared in her drive. She barely looked at it, but studied his face. She’d seen the expression that flitted across his features once before—that of a man telling himself he shouldn’t be doing something, but not quite convincing himself of it yet.
    And she felt just as uncertain, but not of one thing: She wasn’t ready for him to go. “Do you feel like coming in for a while?”
    He met her eyes. “If I’m that close for that long, it might lead to kissing you.”
    “I’m willing to take that risk.” She tried on a smile, but it faded when he turned away from her. “Ethan?”
    “I ain’t willing to take that risk, Charlie,” he said, striding toward the front entrance. “Because kissing would lead to the bed, and then I’d push at you until you were biting me, and we’d be all mixed up again.”
    “No.” She followed him through, shut the door behind her, then had to catch up with him. He was making a beeline toward the deck. “If that happened, it wouldn’t be about feeding, or providing. Only how much I need you and love you.”
    And that’s what he’d bring to it, too. It would be mutual, equal—giving and taking, and nothing that would be for one more than the other.
    He halted at the edge of the sunken living room, swung around to face her. The moonlight through the French doors shone on the stone clench of his jaw. “Well, you’ve got me completely confounded, Charlie. Because that’s what you told me when we were all mixed up.”
    Yes. She’d told him that she needed him, loved him.
    “And you told me that you’d provide for me.”
    “You think I ain’t trying? If you’d just ask for what it is you’re needing so bad, I could give it to you, but you just…you just…” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Even if I took you to bed, I’d lay down money that you wouldn’t ask me to stay until dawn.”
    “No,” she whispered. Her heart was beating a sick, painful thud, and her chest felt as fragile as blown glass. “But I wouldn’t ask you to leave, either.”
    Ethan closed his eyes. “I just wouldn’t be man enough