Shadow's Claim (28 page)

Bettina finally drew back, her heavy-lidded eyes sparkling and her red lips curling, as if she’d forgotten where she was—and whom she was with.

She looked adorably drowsy and tipsy, her mask atilt; he wasn’t even surprised when his heart thudded like a stack of books dropped from a height.

“Look how smug you are, vampire.”

“Am I then? Know that you can be smug for the rest of the night, while I’m still limping from this agonizing erection.” He rocked it against her.

“Oh!” Her face flamed. “It’s nothing less than you deserve. I hope it stays that way.” She scowled. “Or something else,
worse
—”

The great horn sounded, signaling the end of the fire demons’ match.

“Cas!” At once, she shoved against Trehan, trying to shimmy away from him.

With a vile Dacian curse, he let her, giving her a few seconds to straighten her clothing before he waved his hand, gradually clearing the air.

Spell broken.
Now he needed to concentrate on another aspect of his plan.
Will I be able to stay away from her long enough to prepare . . . ?

After soldiers removed the charred, headless corpse of the loser, Caspion marched into the ring. The crowd cheered even louder than they had last night.

Trehan had noticed that the demon’s standard—one curved horn wrapped in some kind of vine—now adorned many of the shopkeepers’ windows.

A clearly inebriated Raum returned to the grandstand, tankard attached to his meaty hand, clothing in disarray. He frowned at Bettina and Trehan sitting together. She shrugged helplessly.

After a hard look at Trehan, Raum quaffed his drink, then announced, “And next we have our own Caspion the Tracker, beloved son of Abaddon!”

At that, so many demonesses tossed their garters at the ring that it soon had a ceiling of lace. Bettina looked like she could barely control her jealousy.

Something else we’ve in common.

Caspion hammed it up for the audience, raising his sword. They went wild.

And what would this crowd sound like if Trehan was the one who slew him? Sentiment so strong could
be turned around, but only by a far more charismatic leader than Trehan.

And what if I can’t turn
her
sentiment from the demon?
He had many advantages over Caspion: age, strength, wisdom. Bettina valued none of these things.

Caspion’s words played in his mind.
She might be your Bride, but she’ll never be your wife.
And perhaps, deep down, a small part of Trehan feared the demon might be right.

Yet there’s one thing I can do for her.
One thing to win her. . . .

When Caspion’s challenger, the remaining Cerunno, slithered into the ring, Bettina’s nervousness redoubled.

Trehan could hear her heart racing for that demon.
And I envy him every beat.

As Raum announced Cas’s competitor, Bettina turned up her glass. Now she was drunk
and
disgusted with herself.

She was supposed to be here supporting Cas. Instead, she’d been letting a vampire give her a mind-scrambling orgasm.

And just as memorable as the experience? How Daciano had looked afterward. His shoulders had been back, his lips curving. His tousled black hair had tumbled over his forehead.

His onyx eyes had been
devilish
.

If she’d thought that vision of him stepping from the tub had been sexy, that look . . . those eyes . . .

Oh, how had this night gotten so out of hand? In close proximity were the male she hoped to marry and
the first male to give her an orgasm. If only they were one and the same!

She motioned for another refill.

“You feel guilt?” the vampire asked under his breath.

“Of course I feel disloyal to Caspion now.”

He didn’t like that answer at all. Between clenched teeth, he said, “Remember that if it weren’t for his selfishness and shortsightedness, you wouldn’t be in this position.
He
brought me to your kingdom.” Then, seeming to rein in his temper, he added, “You don’t have to watch this. Come away with me.”

“You can’t expect me to leave?”

“Yes. I can. You are mine, Bettina. We are fated. We’ve shared blood between us,
pleasure
between us. You’ve come against my palm and I in yours.”

She grew flustered yet again. She couldn’t deny the truth of his words, but that didn’t matter right now. “If you think I could be anywhere but here at this moment, then you don’t know me at all.”

Raum swerved back to the table, then gave the signal.

The horn sounded. Caspion and the Cerunno faced off.

Caspion’s horns had straightened with hostility, his sigh-worthy countenance now fierce.

But the Cerunno was so powerful, its muscles rippling beneath its scales.

“You worry for naught,” Daciano told her. “Unfortunately, your demon will win this match. Even more unfortunate, he’ll advance far in this tournament.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“He’s strong for his age and will get stronger with each kill. He’s not without technical skill.”

Never taking her eyes off the ring, she said, “But not on par with yours.”

“No. Not with mine.”

“And you’ll use all that skill to kill him.”

“If pitted against him.”

When Cas narrowly dodged the Cerunno’s first sword strike, she gasped. She could
feel
the vampire’s eyes on her, but this was Cas!
Of course
she would react.

A second swing by the snake. Another close miss. Cas’s tracing helped, but the Cerunno was lightning fast.

Bettina began wringing her hands in her lap. She chanced a quick glance at Daciano, found his face suddenly inscrutable—but, oh, his eyes were black as night.

“If you don’t want to witness my worry, then leave,” she murmured, her attention back on the fight.

He didn’t reply.

Why wasn’t Cas trying to strike the Cerunno? She knew he was better than this! She turned to Raum, assessing his expression. His craggy brow was furrowed.
Not good.

The Cerunno charged again; finally Cas defended. Their swords clanged in the night, once and again. Sparks leapt when metal kissed metal. As the two males circled each other, the great torches illuminated Cas’s sweating face and the Cerunno’s shimmering scales. Neither could gain the advantage.

Then she noticed the snake’s tail was elongating, creeping up behind Cas while he concentrated on deflecting sword strikes.

Just when she was about to yell, “Look out!” other spectators beat her to it. Cas tried to trace too late. The serpentine tail had already wrapped around his legs
and hips, holding him in place. He fought to hack his way free, but the snake’s sword warded off each blow.

All the while its tail coiled higher and higher around Cas’s torso, constricting, weakening him.

Bettina watched in disbelief as the Cerunno clamped its own arms around Cas’s, crushing his body until Cas’s beautiful face flushed with blood, veins bulging in his temples.

“Ah, gods, no. Raum, do something!”

Cas slumped, his arms going limp. His sword clattered to the ground.

“No. No.
No!
Raum!”

“I’m so sorry, Tina.” He laid his hand over Bettina’s. “Look away, m’girl.”

Powerless, she could do nothing but watch as Caspion was crushed in that hideous creature’s grip. “No. This can’t be happening!”
What I wouldn’t give for my power!

To Raum, Daciano grated, “You give him too little credit, demon.”

Bettina clung to the vampire’s words. He was the expert, he would know if Cas was doomed—

Like a shot, Cas twisted his head, raking one sharpened horn across the Cerunno’s throat. Blood spurted from its severed jugular.

Forced to stanch the flow, the Cerunno eased its grip enough for Cas to trace to his sword. With a roar, Cas swung.

The Cerunno’s head hurtled high across the ring. The shocked crowd erupted into cheers.

Bettina sagged, her eyes watering.

Raum gave a bellow of relief and joined the cheering, not even attempting to appear unbiased.

As Cas caught his breath, he managed a grin, eventually
recovering enough to raise his mottled arms over his head and egg the spectators on. He was loving the attention so much that she couldn’t prevent her lips from curling.

Her glorious Cas. She was so proud of his victory, happy that he was happy.

Daciano broke the spell. “Bettina, there is a limit.”

Without looking at him, she asked, “What does that mean?”

He took her hand, smoothly returning her panties. “One day you’ll convince me that you’ll always want him.” Just before he traced away, he murmured in her ear, “Take care, lest you lose a male who’ll desire only you—and gain a male who’ll desire only others.”

D
iscovering more about Bettina was critical—because Trehan was failing to coax her attentions away from that fucking demon.

He traced back to his tent, his mind focused on the task ahead: access her memories.

Which meant sleep. He was running out of time to complete all the things left for him to do. If he’d turned his back on his kingdom only to lose his Bride as well . . . ? To have neither in his life?

He would have no identity. No future.
I will not be who I was.

Nor who I
want
to be.

Must sleep.
Removing his sword, he lay back on his bed, struggling to dictate the direction of his thoughts.
Do
not
replay how she looked coming in your hand, Trehan. For gods sakes, do
not
revisit the slick heat you just reveled in.

But her scent lingered on the furs, tantalizing him. Last night, her hair had fanned out over his bed as he’d rocked his shaft against her sex.

When only the hot, soaked silk of her panties had barred him entrance to her core . . .

Too much!
He groaned, his shaft straining against the confines of his pants. Once he unfastened them and his length sprang free, he grunted in relief.

He took one of Bettina’s gloves and wrapped the cool silk around his aching length, pretending it was her palm gripping him.
Should’ve kept her panties.

As he began to stroke, he fantasized that she told him,
“You know you can do anything to me, Trehan. I’m yours—I always will be.”

Only to him would she make those promises. . . .

His fangs sharpened, dripping in his mouth for her. He dragged his tongue over them, sucking on his blood, pretending it was hers.

Like a true vampire.

Trehan had begun remembering more from his youth; as a lad, he’d stroked himself to fantasies of sinking his fangs into a trembling female while coming inside her. He recalled that particular fantasy could make him ejaculate until his back bowed.

Now he imagined piercing Bettina’s slim neck.
Drawing her scorching essence into me as she writhed from her orgasm. Her sex would squeeze my cock with greedy tugs. As she gave her blood, her body would demand my seed—

When he began to spend, he yelled her name; his back bowed violently.

When he wiped himself clean and redressed, he shuddered, grieved to be parted from her.

When he drifted to sleep, he knew he’d dream of her.

My memories? Or hers?