Demon Night

what had pulled at her memory. Everything was coming at her too fast; she could feel herself withdrawing again, going numb, and he hadn’t even told her what he was. She took a deep breath and admitted, “I need some time to process all of this, Ethan.”
    “You’ll get time. If you like, you can claim a bed and sleep. I’ll be a good hour or so.”
    She looked back into the large, open room, the moonlit water outside the window, the distant sparkle of the city. “I think I’ll stay in here.”
    For a long moment, Ethan’s gaze was steady and firm on hers; then his brow furrowed like a man facing a puzzle. “I don’t see a single electric light switch, or I’d turn them on for you. I suspect they’re integrated into the computerized system that runs the house, but I neglected to ask the details—and I don’t want to go selecting the wrong button.”
    Charlie shrugged. “I like the dark.”
    “Yes, but you ought to have something—” He blinked. “Well, hell.”
    She turned as Ethan strode past her, the tails of his coat brushing her legs. There was no sign that his wings had penetrated the brown fabric, but it was marred by a small hole high on his back. Charlie frowned, followed him.
    The main part of the room had a sunken floor. Charlie stood at the edge of the two steps leading down; Ethan had her favorite lamp, the one that had been next to her bed, and was plugging it in and setting it on a small table. The stained-glass shade washed the room with soft blues, reds, and golds.
    It was comforting, familiar—and she had to admit, better than the dark. She folded her arms over her chest, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or start crying.
    Ethan came to stand in front of her, his left foot on the first step. “You’ll be all right, Miss Charlie.”
    She swallowed hard, nodded. “Are you okay? Did they shoot you?”
    “They got me, but it ain’t no trouble.” He showed her his thumb. “I heal quick.”
    The wounds he’d made with his dagger were already gone—not even a trace of pink remained. She held herself tighter to keep from touching his hand, raised her gaze to his face, let it settle on his lips. Her brows drew together. “But you have a scar.”
    His smile held a hint of teasing in it. “A souvenir from when I was human,” he said. The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “I keep it because womenfolk can’t resist taking a better look; and once they’re in close, they’re like bears on honey.”
    Laughing relieved some of the pressure that had been building up in her chest, left her slightly light-headed. Ethan was watching her, grinning in full now, and Charlie could easily believe that any woman near those lips would be tempted.
    She was probably too close.
    Her laughter faded, her breath came hard. He didn’t move away when she leaned toward him. For an instant she was unbalanced, at too far an angle over the stairs—but she braced her palms on his wide shoulders and caught his upper lip between hers, a soft brush before simply holding her mouth against his.
    It was easy, so easy to stand there with his breath heating her bottom lip. But Charlie knew herself too well, and this felt too good. She wouldn’t be satisfied with a little taste—she’d want more.
    And although his lips moved under hers, Ethan wasn’t kissing her back; he just wasn’t smiling anymore.
    She pulled away, her hands falling to her sides.
    Ethan blinked his eyes open, and a vertical line formed between his eyebrows, as if he was surprised to see her standing a foot away.
    “Well, I’ll be going—” He shook his head, blinked again, and looked down at his hand. “You’ll be—” His jaw tightened, and he glanced up at her. “Son of a bitch.”
    Ethan simply straightened, shifting his weight forward and up, his left foot still on the first step but now he was towering over her. His fingers speared into the hair at her temples, his huge hands cupping her face and tilting her head back for the claim of his mouth.
    Heat surrounded her: his palms curving around her cold cheeks, his chest against hers. Her fingers slid beneath his jacket, across the softness of his shirt and the hard muscle it covered.
    Oh, Lord, and his mouth . Hot and wet, and he didn’t wait for her to recover from her surprise but used the insistent pressure of his lips to guide hers apart. He sipped, licked, and his warmth stole through her, sliding down to her belly and seeping into her blood like a sweet