Demon Moon by Meljean Brook Page A

piece of lint disturbed the perfect line of his trouser leg, and he brushed it off.
    Castleford’s house rose up in front of him, a boxy, contemporary bit of architecture. Colin appreciated the clean lines of it, but preferred his Victorian. He’d parked in the driveway; his gaze rose to the lighted windows above the garage. Nothing to see from this angle, but he could hear Savi moving around inside.
    He pulled at his collar and sighed. If he stayed in his car much longer, Hugh and Lilith might think he was nervous.
    A door slammed, and Savi ran down the private stair from her flat. Was she so eager to meet him again? His body hummed with the pleasure of it.
    But he didn’t open the door; he needed to wait…and see.
    She wore jeans, sneakers, and a thick cream sweater. She’d wound an azure scarf around her slim, beautiful neck.
    Sir Pup squeezed through the pet door at the front of the house and shifted to a larger size. He bounded toward her, then tagged along beside her legs as she rounded the front of the Bentley and tapped on Colin’s window.
    He lowered the glass and inhaled.
    Nothing. Her unique scent—wonderful, intoxicating in its way, but not the delicious, dangerous perfume.
    The devastating sense of loss nearly undid him. His relief kept him upright.
    She leaned down. The window framed her brightly smiling face like a portrait, and his breath caught. “I just wanted to say thanks for that night.”
    He cleaved his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Of course, Savi. It was my pleasure.”
    Her smile never wavered. “Yeah. About that…”
    “Think nothing of it,” he said carelessly, and flashed his fangs in a rakish grin. “A temporary madness, but I am well recovered. As, apparently, are you.”
    “Apparently.” She blinked; her eyes were a warm, rich chocolate. Her skin, cinnamon cream. “Did you have a nice holiday with your family?”
    “Yes. Quite lovely.”
    “That’s good. Anyway, thank you. I’m off for a stroll in the park; I ate too much. I’ll see you later.”
    “Of course.” He spoke to an empty window; she’d already moved on. And absent a mirror, he couldn’t watch her leave without giving himself away.

    He found Castleford and Lilith in a kitchen filled with Savitri’s scent. And cinnamon and garlic, saffron and ginger…he had to stop this bloody foolishness.
    Breathing through his mouth, he said, “It’s gone.”
    Perched on a barstool, Lilith looked across the counter to Castleford for confirmation of truth; Colin didn’t take insult. The tension eased from Hugh’s form, then from Lilith’s.
    Lilith laughed, her relief evident. “Good. I’d hate to have to kill you. Particularly as you’re so handsome.”
    “I’d hate to be killed,” he replied easily and slid onto the stool beside her. “Particularly as exile to Beaumont Court proved as effective a deterrent as death. You sent the dog outside to protect her from me?”
    Castleford’s lips twitched as he transferred dishes from the granite counter to the sink. “Another deterrent, if needed. Perhaps you would have kissed Sir Pup.”
    “Forgive me if I fail to see the humor in that.” Those few moments with Savi atop him, her mouth pressed to his, had been some of the sweetest of his life. Colin would not have them sullied.
    Ice settled in Castleford’s eyes, and he said, “It has taken me a month to see the humor in having to pry Savi away from you when you were at the edge of your control. Had we arrived but minutes later, what would have occurred?”
    He’d have been inside her. Drinking from her. Tasting her. And he’d been so maddened by her scent and the stink of wyrmwolf blood—his own blood—he probably wouldn’t have noticed if she was awake.
    She mightn’t have survived.
    Lilith quickly said, “Don’t answer that, Colin. I don’t want to have to pick up pieces of you.” Her gaze moved to Hugh. “Either of you. If the pheromone subsided with the fever, then it hardly