Demon Night

else’s itched something terrible—and the added distraction of Charlie’s soft lips hadn’t helped him a bit.
    Her lips, the deceptively sleepy look in her eyes when she studied him, the deadpan expression she used when telling a story, the remembered pain that—for an instant—had flared bright beneath the tale.
    And her voice. He’d been just fine until he’d started speaking with her.
    He could list a hundred different distractions—but, hell, he couldn’t truly blame her lips. Truth was, he’d been feeling awful sorry for himself, thinking about Caleb. Her laugh and her smile had done more than the alcohol could toward soothing that hurt, so he’d reckoned her mouth would be even better. But kissing hadn’t eased anything.
    It only made him think of having more, and that was a dangerous notion. When a man was hungry, one or two bites only whetted the appetite—and he could get real used to being full.
    He took a long breath, pushed away the memory of her lips before he got too fuzzy. He couldn’t drift and clear his head now—he’d wait until he returned to Caelum. But a few hours up here on Cole’s roof would help; he could keep watch for the vampires without taking in too much else.
    He could well understand Charlie’s attraction to the little roof garden. He liked the city, but solitude was difficult to find—and with senses like his, even more so.
    A Guardian blocked out the noise, the scents, and the psyches, until he only heard what felt normal and let the rest fade into the background. But after a few days without drifting, Ethan had to work at blocking them out. For most Guardians, blocking was easy—only in those first Enthralled years did the enhanced senses trouble them.
    They didn’t trouble Ethan all that much anymore, but it did get to weighing on him, until he was fuzzy and jittery as a human on a couple of nights without sleep, and it became harder to ignore sensations—particularly those he enjoyed.
    The buildup happened to all Guardians; Ethan just had to rid himself of the weight more often than others did. More often than even a novice did.
    And since he’d been coming around Charlie, he’d had to drift even more frequently than usual. There wasn’t nothing about her that didn’t grate or stroke or tickle a nerve. With the rasp of her voice, her music, and her sweet-smelling lotions, she put his senses on high alert—and she filled them up almighty quick.
    Now that he’d been looking at her, too, he suspected that interval would shorten.
    With a deep sigh, he pulled his long jacket in from his cache. The night air was cool, and the contrast of temperature only provided another distraction. He didn’t get cold, but he felt the difference; when he was fuzzy, he felt it all the more. It was best just to prevent as much sensation as possible from slipping through.
    A psychic sweep of the area picked up the vampires again, still indistinct. It might be they weren’t aware of his presence; vampires’ minds weren’t near as powerful as Guardians’ or demons’. Even if a vampire attempted to probe Ethan’s shields, he wouldn’t necessarily realize Ethan wasn’t human.
    Still, Ethan wouldn’t rely on psychic detection—with enough practice, a vampire or human could form damn good shields, too.
    His eyes narrowed when the senator and his son left Cole’s. Now, there were two men with shields that could shame a novice Guardian. It wasn’t all that unusual for humans who made a habit of guarding their thoughts and responses to have strong psychic blocks; someone in government certainly would. Ethan hadn’t given either of them more than a cursory scan after they’d called Charlie over, but he’d attempted to look deeper once Jane and Legion had been included in the conversation.
    Considering the son’s history with Jane, that inclusion might have been nothing more than coincidence—but Ethan didn’t trust coincidence.
    There wasn’t much suspicious about them now, though. They walked in silence toward a sleek black Town Car, and Ethan was certain it was disappointment that slumped the younger Brandt’s shoulders.
    Charlie had handled him real well. Just looking at her, it would have been difficult to see how awkward she’d felt, or that she had no intention of meeting with young Brandt later.
    Difficult, but apparently not impossible. Standing at the door of his car, the senator said, “She won’t return your call.”
    Mark Brandt glanced back toward