Demon Moon (21 page)

“Yes.”

“Do you need help out front?” As if on cue, the bell rang merrily, and voices carried into the back. Auntie's did not have a large dinner clientele, but it managed a brisk take-out business in the evenings. “Is Geetha the only one out there?”

Nani stood up. “We're slow now. Eat first, and then you can take phone orders.”

“Okay. Did any of the DemonSlayer players show up last week?”

“No,
naatin
. Perhaps it's best? That was a terrible business, what happened to them.”

Savi nodded. “You're probably right.”

With a headshake that said,
Of course I am
, Nani left the office in a rustle of magenta silk and clinking bangles. Savi sighed and sank into the chair her grandmother had vacated.

As much as it'd hurt, Lilith had spoken true: had Savi never translated Hugh's book, and printed it at a vanity press as a present to him, and then developed a card game based on the story, the gamers who'd once gathered at Auntie's every Friday night would never have been targeted. Lucifer and the nosferatu were to blame for their deaths, but Savi was responsible for creating the circumstances that had brought DemonSlayer and its players to Lucifer's attention. Two dead, plus one of Hugh's fellow professors—and four more taken and frightened beyond belief before Hugh and Lilith had rescued them.

No wonder they no longer came to play—reality had taken the fun out of it. And they still didn't know all of the reality; Lilith had managed to twist the truth so that the nosferatu became a cult of wannabe vampires. Insane, dedicated to extreme body modification, but human—and inspired to action by Hugh's book and DemonSlayer.

Just as Polidori's popularity had soared, so had DemonSlayer's sales.

She glanced up at Manu's picture. That was one thing she had to offer: a hell of a lot of money. None of the victims' families had wanted it—they'd called it tainted…cursed. And though Savi would have once laughed off such an idea, perhaps it could be cursed. She was afraid to use it; her lesson had been learned. An anonymous donation to an orphanage in India? It would probably be destroyed in an earthquake.

“Eat something,
naatin
,” Nani commanded. Savi glanced over in time to see her sweep past the door, heading for the kitchens with an order ticket in hand. “Take something out to Mr. Ames-Beaumont, as well. He cannot only want tea.”

Colin
had
returned. She blinked, trying to decide how she should feel about it. Her body didn't wait for her mind to decide; it seemed to hum in anticipation. Even with her shields up, she could no longer ignore the effect he had on her.

Slowly, she turned back to the computer and moved the mouse pointer to close the e-mail window. Before she could click, a warm hand covered hers and a low voice purred in her ear, “What is this,
naatin
?”

Colin. His chest against her upper back, his jaw against her temple as he looked over her shoulder. His middle finger slid alongside her forefinger, and he used the mouse wheel to scroll down through the e-mail.

“A prospective groom?”

She closed the window with a keyboard command and fought an overwhelming urge to run. “Yes.”

“You hold your breath. Your heart races. Did his picture cause this sudden excitement?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“He will not do at all, sweet Savitri. He is far too handsome.” His voice seemed to rumble through her, prickling beneath her skin.

“I've always liked a pretty face.”

He laughed softly. “Is that so?”

His teeth scraped her throat.

And then she was alone in the office again, her grandmother singing lightly as she carried a dish to the dining room.

Oh god
. The air left her lungs in a shuddering rush, and she gulped in more. She scooted forward in the seat, tried to use the movement to ease the sudden, unbearable ache that pulsed low and heavy. Hot and liquid.

It didn't work.

“Naatin?”

“I'm coming,” she said, and bit her lip. “I'll be right there.”
Let me dry hump this chair first
.

What had that been? Sometime between her leaving his car and now, his “let's be friends” had apparently lost its allure. Or he grew impatient with her, his obsession for a taste outweighing his intention to wait for an invitation—to wait for her to make a choice.

Both options were sobering…and ridiculously painful.

She liked being with him, but it was all too quickly becoming something deeper, something
complicated
. His attractiveness and her arousal were simple. Their easy banter was simple. Knowing what he wanted from her made it simple. Her experience on Caelum had been simple.

The shuddery ache she was feeling now was not; the whole had become more than the sum of its parts—and she had to keep it simple. She couldn't let it go any further. After she met with Manu and started on that path, she couldn't turn back.

She didn't want to leave part of herself bleeding behind her. If this continued, she would.

Unless she gave Colin what he needed tonight; the object attained, the hunt would be over. And she would gain pleasure from it, as well—her curiosity fulfilled.

A perfectly simple solution.

Savi automatically looked for Colin at the table where she'd first seen him eight months ago. He'd been wearing sunglasses, pretending to be blind so he could bring Sir Pup into the restaurant.

But she didn't see him there—didn't see him anywhere.

Very few diners sat at the tables. Colin would have stood out even if the restaurant had been crowded. Savi frowned, then noticed the table near the front window with a single teacup steaming on its surface—though no Colin. Geetha stood at the front counter, giving a woman in a pink dress and a gorgeous black shawl a take-out order.

Savi smiled and said a quick hello; Roberta was a regular, though she appeared rather dazed at the moment. When she left, Savi pointed toward the window.

“Is that Colin's table? British, white?”

Geetha grinned. “Handsome? Yes.”

Nani brought another take-out bag to the counter and clicked her tongue. “Did you call Mrs. Karlen? Did she come for her order?”

“Yes. She said she fell asleep.”

“She makes too long a day, that one. And her divorce! So much stress. Is that all you are eating,
naatin
?” Nani shook her head at Savi's soup bowl and disappeared into the kitchen again.

Savi met Geetha's laughing gaze, and sighed. “I'll be by the window if the phones get too crazy.”

It didn't surprise her that Colin was at his table when she turned around. His fingers curled around the teacup, his thumbs absently tracing the rim.

Her bowl clinked against the sheet of glass protecting the crimson silk tablecloth. She kept her tone light. “You drank from one of our customers?”

“Hiding beneath the table was its own reprimand,” he said easily. He looked at her soup and drew in a long breath. “What is that?”

“Mulligatawny.” She pushed her spoon into the thick soup. “Lentils, vegetables. Tamarind and coconut milk. Lots of spice. Not true Indian cuisine, but popular, so we make a meatless version of it.” She lifted her gaze to his. “The British are responsible for its creation, actually.”

“Our colonies did produce many a spectacular concoction.” His teeth flashed briefly. Though he laughed and smiled openly in private company, he was careful not to expose his fangs in public. It was a shame, she decided; his mouth was incredible. Remembering how the sharp edges of his teeth had skimmed over her neck, she repressed a delicious shiver.

She studied it for a bit longer, until the headlights of a passing car illuminated him with bright light. Her gaze dropped to the table, and she slid her napkin across the glass.

“You have lipstick. Here.” She pressed her finger against the corner of her bottom lip, and watched her spoon swirl in the bowl.

She glanced up to find him staring down at the streak of color against the white linen. “Pink is not a flattering shade on me.”

She couldn't help but smile at such a rueful observation. “No.” And she prevented any further conversation by taking a bite of the soup, letting its heat fill her mouth.

She had to force herself to swallow past the ache in her throat.

He kissed them. She'd known, but the implications of it hadn't truly occurred to her before—of course he would kiss them. Hadn't he told her that physical lust rode behind the bloodlust?

I do not realize I'm hard until I'm inside her
.

No wonder Roberta had seemed so dazed.

The napkin crumpled in his hand, and he threw it to the table. “I didn't fuck her.”

Startled by the anger beneath the statement, she met his gaze again. “I didn't say that.”

“You assumed it.”

Her brow furrowed. “You have to take blood; you're a vampire. Sex goes along with it.” She waved her hand at his cup. “Like tea and sugar. You can have one without the other, but it isn't as good. Is it?”

“I don't know,” he said tightly. “I can't bloody taste it.”

She pressed her lips between her teeth and played with her soup.

“Don't laugh.” But his voice shook, and he passed his hand over his face as if to hold back his own laughter.

When she looked back up, she found him staring at her with an expression that could have been amazement—or pain. “I want you, Savi. Your blood, your body. I would do anything to have you. Tell me what I need to do.”

Her spoon rattled against the rim of the bowl. She carefully set it down and said, “I'll come home with you tonight.”

He was at her side in an instant, pulling her to her feet.

“Wait,” she laughed. “I have to stay and help. We close at ten.”

A soft groan of despair escaped him, but he sat down. Peripherally, she saw Nani come out of the kitchen and began eating the mulligatawny as quickly as possible.

Colin's eyes gleamed. “Shall I tell her?”

“No,” she choked, torn between horror and amusement. “I'll tell her you ate one of the regulars.”

He laughed, his elbow propped on the table and his fist curled loosely in front of his mouth. She paused with the spoon halfway to her lips, struck by how boyish he looked in that moment. He'd been only twenty-two at his transformation, but his features usually gave the impression of ageless youth; he could have been a man of eighteen or forty. His laugh took away that untouched facet of his appearance without reducing his beauty.

When it faded, he leaned back in his chair and smiled lazily. “There's no evidence. I was nothing but a dream to her.”

A dream? That was similar to what Fia had called it: unreal. “That's what you make them think?”

“I don't
make
them. It's how they remember it.”

“How do you know, if you leave them directly afterward?”

“I have been living in San Francisco for a long time, Savi.”

One hundred years multiplied by an average of one a night…“Oh, my. And some twice? Was Roberta?”

An indefinable tension passed over his features before he nodded.

“And I thought
I
had gotten around,” she said.

His lids lowered. “Does it trouble you?”

“That I'm a slut? No.”

The corners of his mouth turned down, flattening the curve of his bottom lip. “That is not what I meant. I would hardly hold your romantic nature and your desire to increase your odds against you.”

She stared at him. Is that what he thought—and was he correct? She loved the physical pleasure she found in bed, but she'd never analyzed her reasons for seeking it with so many people, afraid of what she'd discover. And she wouldn't begin now. “And yet you wonder if I'd hold
your
nature against you. As if you should starve yourself.”

“I don't have sex with every one.”

“Neither do I.”

“Only one or two a week.”

Oh, god. “Okay.” It didn't come out as strongly as she intended.

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “It's always consensual. And I don't take advantage of—”

“It's fine, Colin.” Her cheeks hurt from the width of her smile. “Really. Even if you wanted to—and there's no reason you should—you couldn't stop.”

And he couldn't; he
had
to feed. The number truly didn't matter, either; it was the knowledge that a few days from now, maybe tomorrow, he'd be with someone else. And then someone else.