Demon Night

his knees.
    “You all right, Charlie?”
    She flinched, and it struck him: she wasn’t yet accustomed to her hearing. The sirens, the shouts, even his voice must have been like a jackhammer, a jet engine in her head.
    She’d been projecting despair, confusion; now that sank into absolute devastation.
    He dropped his words below a whisper; just as well, because his throat felt so swollen he could hardly speak. “It won’t always be like this. You’ll adjust quick.” A body had to adapt; no one could function with the senses always on full. “We’re going under the water. Don’t be afraid, because you don’t need to breathe, and you can’t drown. But it’ll cut out some of the sound until we’re away from the noise up above. Until then, just think of your favorite song, and you think it hard.”
    “Okay,” she replied, her teeth chattering. But then a second later: “I need Jane.”
    He took off his jacket, wrapped it around her before picking her up again. She couldn’t be cold, but it might offer her some comfort.
    “All right. We’ll go to her tonight, do whatever it takes to see her.” No reason not to. Sammael had accomplished what he’d intended, and Charlie had little to fear from the demon now.
    But Ethan was looking forward to bringing a hell of a lot of fear down on the demon.
    There weren’t nothing he could do for Caleb. But Charlie—he’d do right by her. He’d do right by her if it took his last breath, the last beat of his heart.
    He waded out, was up to his waist when she suddenly stiffened, her hand flying to her mouth. He delved into her emotions quick, looking for the source of the panic.
    Her fangs had scraped her inner bottom lip. Blood scented the air, glistened on her fingertips.
    Need tore through her…through him. Not sexual, not thirst—but something more powerful, and feeling an awful lot like both. His cock hardened, his balls drawing up tight.
    “Oh, God,” she whispered, staring at the blood. “Oh, God.”
    Then, as if mesmerized by it, she brought her fingers to her lips and slowly licked it off.
    Instantly, he craved the long swipe of her pink tongue over his flesh. Heard the pounding of her blood, scented the perfume of her body’s arousal. Imagined sliding into her as her fangs penetrated his skin.
    Ethan pulled out of her head and dove, his heart thundering. But the frigid water couldn’t cool the heat rising in him, or the dread.
    She’d need to feed, and soon. And Ethan could no more tolerate the idea of someone taking from her what she didn’t want to give, than he could the thought that her bloodlust might take him over and bring more hurt on her.
    But, by God , he’d do right by her.

CHAPTER 13
    Ethan had been correct: she adjusted quickly. It wasn’t so bad if she didn’t listen to the sounds; they faded into the background, helped along with a little mental push from Pachelbel. When she paid attention, however, she could hear the water from her shower draining through the house’s pipes, the slow rhythm of Ethan’s breath beyond the bathroom door.
    Incredible—especially considering that he’d said vampires had much less range than Guardians or demons. How much of an adjustment did that take? The full hundred years on Caelum?
    She ran the water in the sink to brush her teeth, and she couldn’t detect the sound of his breath anymore, just his voice. She’d told him what Dylan—Sammael—had said about creating bottled blood. Now he was on the phone, relaying it to his contact at Special Investigations, a woman named Lilith. Although Charlie couldn’t distinctly hear the other woman, she sounded upset—apparently not at Ethan, however, because his responses were as easy as usual, even when he described how Jake had teleported to him and the events at the bridge.
    And those events hadn’t been so bad. Once she’d conquered the instinct to breathe, the trip through the lake had been surreal…almost enjoyable. She could see in the dark. Flying was as amazing as before, and she hadn’t had to turn her face from the wind. She was strong and fast, but she wasn’t stumbling around and breaking things—as if expending human-level effort was a habit that her body recognized.
    She wouldn’t be taking many more hot showers, though. It hadn’t hurt, but she’d immediately begun perspiring from the water, the steam. After a few seconds under the warm spray, she’d had to turn it to just above tepid.
    A drop of blood fell to the basin,