Shadow's Claim (40 page)

He reached out, grasping her nape, drawing her closer. “Kiss anything you want.”

She tilted her head again, as if debating where to start. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his neck, then
his chest, grazing them over one nipple. She licked the other one.

Never knew I was so sensitive.
His hips began to move of their own accord.

As she dipped a kiss lower on his torso, her wild braids trailed over his skin like teasing fingertips.
Don’t press her head down . . . don’t press her head . . .

When she nuzzled the hair near his navel, his cock surged for her mouth.
So close to those sweet lips of hers.

She grasped the base of his shaft. She aimed it at her mouth. He waited . . . didn’t breathe. . . .

With a tentative lick, she daubed her tongue at the crown. She must have liked his taste; a purring sound of approval fanned from her lips, warm breath tickling across the head.

Enthusiasm? He was doomed.

Then she . . . lapped at the slit for more.

“Ah, Bett!”

A swirling lick around the tip followed, rendering him dizzy with lust.
Doomed.

“How am I doing?”

His cock was under her thrall. She had more control over it than he did. With shaking hands, he piled her braids on top of her head, grating, “If only you were this good with gold.” Had his accent ever been so thick?

She gazed up at him with a hint of a grin. “There’s a different dimension to this, so to speak,” she said, just before she closed her lips over him—and sucked.

“Zeii mea!”

That tight seal of her lips slid down his length; his eyes rolled back in his head.

With her fingers splayed around the base of his shaft, she worked her mouth up and down. Taking him deeper each time, she experimented with her clever tongue.

Any lingering inhibition burned away as she got caught up in the act, growing aroused once more.

Her intoxicating scent frenzied him. “Bett, straddle my leg!”

She didn’t ask why, only complied—but her eyes went wide when he moved his leg between her own.

His hand snaked down her back to cup her generous bottom. Palming it, he pressed her against his thigh in a rocking motion.

“Oh!”

He shared her surprise. She was even wetter than before, her flesh dampening his skin. “Does that feel good,
dulcea
?” Another rock.

“Yes,”
she moaned. As she resumed her kiss, she squeezed her thighs together and rocked all on her own, her ass moving like a dream beneath his shaking palm.

Only moments remained for him. He struggled to draw them out, withholding his seed from her. But her scent, her mouth, and her tongue were soon to defeat him.

Her moans around his shaft grew louder; she was on the edge as well.

She pulled away to cry,
“Again, vampire?”

He bit out, “Yes, my sweet.
Again
.” When he flexed his thigh between hers, she continued her wicked kiss. Even as she moaned, she bathed his cockhead with her tongue, wrenching a groan from his chest. Then she took him between her lips once more.

She sucked; he rocked her. Sucking . . . rocking . . .

As seed climbed up his length, she ground against his leg, beginning to come . . . her throaty cries muffled by his shaft.

His throbbing cock. In his Bride’s mouth. As she orgasmed.

Over.

He knew he was about to explode, knew the pressure would pump his spend up to his chin. Her first time—and she didn’t like surprises. He had to stop her. Somehow he had to make her draw away.

With a will he hadn’t known he possessed, he grasped her face and tugged, surrendering the wet heaven of her mouth.

“Wait! I liked that.” The vampire had made her climax three times, and now he was stopping her before his own release?

“About to . . .
come
.” He seemed out of his head. His skin gleamed with sweat. Whipcord tendons stood out on his torso.

“I kind of figured that out.”

“Watch me this time, little Bride.” Even though his expression was anguished, his eyes seemed . . . loving. “So you know what to expect the next.”

She stroked his slick length, making him buck in her grip. “Are you sure?”

Between gnashed teeth, he said, “
See
what you’ve done to me.”

“Well, I
had
wanted to see this.” Another groan from the vampire.

When she started rubbing his erection, he wrapped his hand around hers. Their gazes met, and together they worked his flesh.

Beneath her palm, she could feel his shaft pulsating, still growing though they squeezed it so hard.

Just when she perceived it beginning to pump, he bit out,
“Watch me.”

Eyes gone wide, she did.

The crown erupted with pearly seed, spurting, arcing over his torso. He threw back his head and bellowed, his body wracked with pleasure, muscles straining from it.

Beauty, form . . .
function
. The vampire yelled in his language, thrashing in their grip. She was awed, speechless as they wrung his semen free.

“It’s for you,”
he groaned as his back bowed and his spend lashed up his chest.
“Always for you.”

A
fter wiping his shirt over his torso, Trehan drew Bettina to him, tucking her body against his side. He pressed a kiss against her hair, satisfaction filling him.

Warm, sated Bride. Rain. Peace.
Yes, he felt at peace when he held her.

Again, he asked himself,
Why not this place?
This could be his, she could be his. Together, he and Bettina would start a new house.

“I think you like it here,” she said, reading his thoughts.

“Yours is a swamp plane with frequent precipitation. I come from a cold realm with zero rain. Still, I could be so content with you here.”

“Truly?”

He lazily stroked her hair. “That’s not saying much, I’m afraid. I could be content on a hell plane with you by my side.”

He felt her smile against his chest. From his dreams of her, he knew that she’d once been quick to smile, a happy female who liked to laugh. But this tournament had disheartened her more than anyone could have guessed.

“Vampire, what else have you seen from my memories?”

He skimmed his thumb and forefinger along a glossy braid. “I saw that you fear taking the crown of this realm.”

“Shouldn’t I? I’m so different from everyone here—with no horns, no fangs, no strength. Sometimes I feel like an imposter.”

“You are precisely what Abaddon needs. Your subjects are warlike and raucous. A levelheaded, compassionate queen is the only thing that will keep your realm out of constant conflict. Especially during an Accession.”

“I never thought of it like that.” Then her tone turned contemplative. “I’m not really compassionate. I think bad things should happen to evil people.”

“If anyone is
evil
to you again, I guarantee they’ll meet a bad end. And that’s if you don’t get to them first. I experienced what it was like when you use your power.”

“You did? Which time?”

“When you took down two escaped ghouls. I can only imagine the pain you can inflict. Once you’re the Queen of Hearts again, I’ll pity your enemies.”

“My ability didn’t help me with the Vrekeners last time. Channeling it took a lot of concentration—which took time. My range was limited too.”

Trehan remembered that she’d had to aim her hands directly at the ghouls to affect them.

“Bett, when I first held a sword, I was too young even to swing it. You grow into a skill—you practice with it. It will become second nature.”

“And if I never get it back?”

“You
will
. Until then, I plan to help you steal another’s.”

She seemed startled by this.

“Did Morgana not propose the same to you?”

“Well, yes. But I could never make another Sorceri feel this way.”

“In any case, my offer stands.”

She seemed to muse over his words, then said, “You know so much about me. Won’t you tell me something about your life?”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s Dacia like?”

“Strategically and mystically hidden. Very well defended.”

“Um, can you describe what it
looks like
for me?”

Her question made his lips curl.
My artist halfling needs details.
“Before you, I noted sights only for tactical advantages. But again, I will try,” he said, casting his mind back to the view from his balcony. “There’s a constant mist. It wisps along the cobblestone streets. Vast caverns soar above all. Fountains run with blood. The buildings are ancient, carved from the very mountain. Our black stone castle lies empty in the center of Dacia, like a bloodless heart.” A constant reminder of their failure to install a regent. Though not for much longer.

“Caverns? Does it smell like a cave?”

“No, it smells of cold and blood, which is pleasing to one like me.”

“It must be dark.”

“In the highest peak, there’s an opening capped with a gigantic crystal. It allows in filtered sunlight.”

“I can hardly imagine that.”

“I wish I could have shown you.” Talking of his kingdom only brought to mind how much he missed it. The frothing fountains, the mist, the majestic black keep.

How would Bettina have viewed Dacia? How many details would she have seen that had escaped his notice? They’d never know.

“What was your house like?”

“I lived in the royal library, among all the books.”

“You resided in a . . . library?”

“There
were
suites inside and great balconies that overlooked the city, but yes. I was most content among those shelves, so one night, I simply never left.” What would she think his dwelling choice said about him?

She seemed to be giving the matter serious consideration. Then she asked, “Do you have family there?”

“No siblings or parents. But many cousins.”

“Are you close to them?”

How to answer that?

“It’s not a difficult question.”

“I haven’t talked about myself in centuries. Every detail about me has been private—or already known among kinsmen. I’m not what you’d call a . . . a . . .” What was the modern term?

“A sharer?”

“Precisely. But I will try for you.”

She muttered,
“To win it.”

“What was that?” When she shrugged, he said, “Very well,” and began describing his family. He recounted
the blood vendettas and discord. The constant assassination attempts and battles.

He told her about siblings Kosmina and Mirceo, about hotheaded Viktor always spoiling for a fight. He briefly mentioned the hulking drunkard who was his cousin Stelian. He told her of Lothaire, their unbalanced potential king, and his human Bride—an impoverished mountain girl.

And of the other royal cousin so few knew about? That tale was better left for another night.

“It sounds like you hate your cousins.”

“I don’t, not really,” Trehan said with a weary sigh. “We’ve actually become cordial to a point. I’m just sworn to kill them, as they are me.”

“That’s really sad. Do you have no one you can trust?”

“I can trust one of them, and maybe another—but only in certain matters. My house wars with theirs constantly. I know nothing else.”

“What do you mean by
house
?”

“There are several arms of the Daciano family, each with its own house. Viktor is all that remains of The House of War, Stelian of the House of Paladin. Kosmina and Mirceo are the last of the House of Castellan.”

“And you, Prince of Shadow, must have represented the House of Shadow.”

“Exactly.”
Except it’s no more.
“Each house serves a purpose. Viktor is general of the army, the wrath of the kingdom. Stelian is the gatekeeper, deciding who enters our land. He’s the guardian of the kingdom. Kosmina and Mirceo guard the castle. They’re called the heart of the kingdom.”

“What were you called?”

“I was the sword of the kingdom.”

“The sword, but never the king? You said you were a contender?”