Shadow's Claim (38 page)

“I’d ask you why you have so little,” he said. “Bett, you’re teaching me how to see the world; the least I can do is help you see yourself. I’ve delved far into your mind. Deep down you know you’re remarkably intelligent; you’ve considered that your talents are unequaled; you suspect that I find you the most exquisite creature ever fashioned. You are; they are; I do.”

Before she could reply, Trehan said simply, “Greatness resides in you. Power or not, you can
become
empowered.”

The vampire’s words were like a bell pinging in her brain, reminding her of Morgana’s cryptic comment: “The greatest thing about having power is the mere
having of power
. Use the latter well, and you’ll never have to use the former.”

Bettina had figured that her godmother was advising, “Fake it till you make it.” Or “Perception is reality.”

All at once, the real meaning clicked.
Power is where you find it, where you
seize
it, how you wield it.

Bettina finally understood. As Daciano pointed out, the Vrekeners had robbed her of this folly; she could steal it back from them.

She might not be able to get her ability back, but she could still be
empowered
.

It’s where you
seize
it!

This was a fantastic revelation. . . .
But I’m still not going out into that glade.

She backed away from Daciano, away from his big, warm hands. “Greatness? Are you joking? I can’t do this. Vrekeners could be teeming in the trees, and I would never see them.” Until it was too late.

“They could very well be.”

“Wh-what was that?” Chills raced over her.

With a confident nod, he said, “There could be twenty or thirty of them. Perhaps more.”

“What?”

“It’s possible that a dozen more have landed since we’ve been discussing this.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she cried.

“Because you’re still going to walk out there.”

“The hell I am!”

“If I told you none were here, would you believe me?”

How to explain this? “I
would
believe you. But my mind wouldn’t . . . it wouldn’t
register
it.”

“Then accept that they
are
here. Now, what do you think would happen if our foes lie in wait?”

“They’ll attack!”

“And then?” His voice went lower, silky with menace. “Come, Bettina, you know what comes next.”

“You’d fight them?”

“I would do to them—what I did to the four.” He leaned his shoulder against a carved basilisk column; at that moment he looked far more terrifying than any dragon. “You’ll have a ring of bodies around you, more heads than you could ever fit in a sack. I’ll let you pick which Vrekener to spare—for torture.”

That shouldn’t sound so utterly appealing.

“You’re in a prime position,
dragă
.”

“I . . .
am
?”

“If there are no Vrekeners, then you’ll walk out there and reclaim this place from your enemies. If they
are
here—which I’m hoping for—you’ll get to witness firsthand what happens to those who think to harm my female. Win-win; either way makes for a memorable picnic,” he said dryly, his lips curling.

She stunned herself when she almost smiled in return. Maybe the connection that continued to grow between her and Daciano didn’t leave any room for emptiness—or for fear.

She gazed out at the murky glade and back.
Before the rain comes the clear.
“Vampire, we could go together.”

A sharp shake of his head. “You go alone.”

She shoved a braid out of her face. “Oh, come on!” This mouse simply wasn’t prepared to scurry into a clearing surrounded by trees, beneath a concealing fog.

And when that fog broke? What sight would greet her as she peered up at the sky? She called to mind the horrific image of a plummeting Vrekener. She imagined the rush of air from angry wings.

Win-win? She would look up and be met with either terror—or beauty.

Even with the vampire here, this would be a trial by fire.

Daciano eased closer to her, again muddling her mind with his mouthwatering scent. At her ear, he murmured, “Bett, I’ve dealt death in forests all over the Lore. Whenever I’m about to strike, animals, and even insects, go quiet. Listen.”

She heard a cacophony of familiar sounds. Unperturbed owls, happily squeaking bats, the steady buzz of insects.

“You see so much,” he said. “Now
listen
to these creatures and be assured: no predators await.”

Everything out here was going on with business as
usual. Everything but silly Bettina, standing frozen, too afraid to walk twenty-five feet while the impassive world marched on.

Screw—this.

As if he’d sensed her capitulation, Daciano wrapped his hand around hers and escorted her to the folly stairs. “I’ll meet you out there.”

Am I
really
going to do this? Sober?

He seemed to think so. Apparently, so did some part of her she scarcely recognized.

With Daciano holding her hand, she descended the first stair.

And the second.

After a deep breath, she conquered the final one—but she curled her fingers to keep hold of his until the last moment. . . .

Just as her boot met the spongy ground, she lost that contact with the vampire and faltered, gazing back over her shoulder.

But pride lit Daciano’s masculine face, his green eyes aglow with it, his chest bowed.

Great. Now I have to do this thing, if only for more of that addictive look.

The glade lay ahead. She swallowed. How had she not noticed that the trunks and roots of those trees were so monstrous, that the fog was so creepy?

But the sounds were still raucous.
Seize it!

The twenty-five feet were the longest of her life. Her thoughts raced, keeping pace with her frantic heartbeat:
Before the rain comes the clear
.
Terror or beauty? Daciano is nearby. He’ll annihilate any Vrekeners. Nice picnic, nice picnic. Vrekener torture.

And then . . . she was in the glade, shoulders hunched—but still there.

“I-I made it,” she tentatively called, half disbelieving. “Out to the middle.”

“And so you did, love,” he called back. He couldn’t
possibly
sound prouder.

Within seconds, a break opened in the fog bank, just as she’d known it would. A downdraft of warm air dissipated the mist, as if in the eye of a hurricane. She was in the middle of a tunnel of clear.

She swallowed.
Terror or beauty?
With all the courage she could muster, she lifted her face.

Bettina didn’t find attackers; she saw . . . a scene from dreams.

“Vampire, you’re going to want to see—”

He was already at her side.

Above them, the nearly full moon was a silvery coin. Fireflies as big as Bettina’s hand hovered in the sky, glowing gold, leaving tracers of light. Fluorescent crimson petals spun in the gentle vortex, twinkling red lights. Glossy leaves swirled down leisurely, moonlight striking their surface. . . .

I made it here, and I was rewarded.
What other rewards had she missed out on?

She felt something shifting inside her chest.

Was she ready to traipse around town by herself? Not quite. Was she healed from her fear? Uh-uh. But right now, she felt none.

And she knew she’d turned the corner toward recovering.

Daciano didn’t say anything for long moments, just seemed to marvel at the sight above them. Never looking down, he reached for her hand again, clasping it in his. “You’re lifting a film from my eyes, Bett. I never want to go back to the way I was before.”

She stopped looking at the sky, turning her attention
to something just as remarkable—the vampire’s face tipped up to the moon.

So handsome she nearly lost her breath.

His eyes were heavy-lidded as he admired the scene, as if he was experiencing bliss.

Dear gods, that’s how he looks at me.

Sensing her gaze on him, he turned to stare down at her—and sure enough, his expression didn’t change.

Dalit
. Again that word entered her consciousness.
Lightning
. In quaint old Demonish, it also meant the bolt of desire one felt—before falling in love.

Could she leave behind her feelings for Caspion and allow new ones to grow for this gorgeous, patient, brave vampire?

Words tumbled from her lips: “What would you do if I died? If I was . . . murdered?”

His brows drew together. “I don’t want to speak of that.”

“You said you’d answer any question.”

His hand squeezed hers. “Avenge you.” He pinned her gaze with his own. “
Follow
you.”

Her lips parted in amazement just as sultry rain began to fall.

T
rehan didn’t understand her sudden question, only knew that his answer had surprised her.

When she peered up at him, blinking against the drizzling rain, he sensed they were at the precipice of something and didn’t dare trace her away. Droplets shimmered over her braids like a sparkling veil, her eyes so luminous.

Her expression looked . . .
lost,
as if he’d done far more than admit a simple truth.

“Bettina? Why ask that—”

Two soft hands cupped his face, tugging him down. His lips met hers.
Now
I
am lost. . . .

He looped an arm around her waist, drawing her body against his, groaning at the feel of her. Her skin was so warm, so slick beneath his hands. Their breaths mingled, the kiss deepening, rain now pouring; the night mirrored the intensity of what burned between them.

When he lifted her up against him, her slim arms closed around his neck, her long legs wrapping around his waist. He traced her to the furs, laying her down.

Between kisses, she said, “Are we about to go
up to a point
?”

“Almighty gods, we are!”

“Will you make me forget tomorrow?”

He drew back on his haunches. “I intend to. As long as we’re here in this place, tomorrow doesn’t factor. Just you, me, this storm.”

When he only gazed at her, she frowned. “What do you want me to do?”

“Bare yourself. Show me your pretty breasts as you did that first night.”
This time, to me. Only to me.

She bit her bottom lip. “You think about that night a lot.”

“You don’t?”

With a blush, she reached behind her, untying the lace of her top. When she peered up at him for courage, he rasped, “For me?”

She removed the material, revealing perfect pale swells tipped with rosy peaks. He’d seen them before, he’d kissed them before; a groan still burst from his chest.

The corners of her red lips curled. “You . . . like them.”

“Like?” He covered one with his palm, giving a gentle squeeze. “Already I’m obsessed with them. I imagine an eternity tending to them and every inch of your ravishing little body.” He leaned in to kiss her, promising her,
“Soon, Bett,”
just before his lips met hers. He drank in her sweet gasp.

She met his seeking tongue, lightly swirling the tip of hers against his. He loved the way she kissed—with
shy laps of her tongue, welcoming lips, and now a needy moan.

One of his shaking hands cupped the back of her head; his other eased down to unravel the ties of her skirt, pulling it free.

He broke away, but only to admire the gift he was unwrapping. “Loveliness itself,” he declared when he saw her in only a scrap of black lace.

Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he tugged her panties down her legs, leaving them around one slim ankle.

The sight of her body stole his breath. Waist so small, skin so sleek. Water drops trailed over taut limbs, delectable curves, and those pert breasts. The tiny thatch of dark curls on her mound beckoned. . . .

No, he was not a mere observer. As he raised his face to hers, he realized he couldn’t be more present, more engaged. Scents washed over him. Warm rain lingered over their heated skin. The beat of their hearts sounded in his ears.