Demon Moon

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Authors: Meljean Brook
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from the inside. She tried to moisten her tongue, to swallow. His hungry gaze followed the movement of her jaw and throat. “I need a drink,” she said hoarsely.
    His laugh was short, hard. He opened the door and cold air flooded in. “So do I.”



CHAPTER 4

    The nosferatu suffer from bloodlust, but they don’t have to eat. That’s how they hide undetected in caves for so long—there isn’t a trail of corpses for the Guardians to follow. Vampires have to feed every day, though; and the bloodlust can make the urge to feed and the urge to have sex nearly indistinguishable. And the feeding feels incredible for whomever is being sucked on—that’s what they tell me, anyway .
    —Savi to Taylor, 2007

    Colin rested his hand against the small of her back as he guided her past a long line of clubbers. As an act of courtesy, it proved a masochistic one; beneath his palm, the gentle curve of her spine moved in rhythm with her steps, the beat of the music from inside. Matched the need throbbing within him.
    He ground his teeth together, urged her forward a little more quickly. How could he be so desperate to feed? He’d taken enough for two days from the last blonde alone.
    “It was popular before, but not like this,” Savitri murmured.
    Colin glanced at the queue; mostly human, but a few vampires waited, as well. A growl rose unbidden in his throat. He didn’t want her here, he didn’t want to be here—yet he’d been unable to refuse her request.
    And she hadn’t even flattered him.
    His gaze dropped to her neck; her short hair left it deliciously exposed. He should mark her as his. Protect her from the vampires here and the others inside. Inhale her, drink her, sink into her—
    He swallowed thickly and forced the territorial hunger aside. What he wanted to do to her could not be considered protection.
    “It’s morbid fascination,” he finally replied.
    She sighed, and her lashes swept down against her cheeks. The investigators—and the press—had linked Polidori’s to last year’s ritual murders; burning it had been determined a cult’s symbolic way of beginning its quest for immortality.
    All lies, of course; Colin had helped fabricate them. But the story had entertained the public for months, and many of the people standing outside had only come because of the club’s connection with death. Her friends’ deaths.
    “And I spent a sordid amount of money on it,” he added. “I can’t fault them for recognizing my unparalleled taste and flocking here to revel in it.”
    Her lips curved into a smile, and she slanted a glance up at him. “Was it truly that much? Lilith claims you are the cheapest bastard she’s ever known.”
    Pleased with himself for turning her thoughts from her grief, he said, “Agent Milton has a demon’s tongue. I am not cheap , my sweet Savitri. I’ve an eternal retirement; I budget wisely.”
    Her throaty laughter pulled at already tight nerves along his skin. Her hip bumped against his leg as they rounded the corner to the entrance. Her fragrance wafted around her. In her heels, she stood only a few inches shorter than he. So easy just to bend and press his mouth against…
    He dropped his hand from her waist, clenched it into a fist. This was bloody ridiculous. A fruity perfume, and he had as much control as an adolescent pulling himself off on his sheets.
    A huge vampire guarded the entrance and ran the guest list; he towered over Colin by a bald head, outweighed him by half. His muscles bulged through the tight black T-shirt. An intimidating presence, and one most vampires respected; but then, they were often fooled by appearances. Colin had deliberately chosen him for his resemblance in size and baldness to the nosferatu—but though the vampire was strong, Colin could have torn him in two with little effort. It was one of the advantages of Colin’s transformation with nosferatu blood instead of an exchange with another vampire.
    And the taint Michael’s sword had

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