Shadow's Claim (36 page)

The dummies stilled as if affronted. “Fine, then. Should I go spy?”

“Yes. Absolutely.
Go
.”

“Maybe some of me sources’ll give up details about Goürlav—now that their delegates are dead and all.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said absently, lifting the torch once more. Soon she was lost in the process, working in a frenzy.

“I’m going, Princess.”

Still here?
She blew on the last heated section of metal, examining the assembled piece. Pride welled in her chest as she doused her torch. It was just like Daciano’s sketch.

Yet when Salem finally left, a presence remained.

Y
ou’re early,” Bettina murmured to Trehan.

She’d sensed I’m here?
He appeared fully. “And you’re extraordinary,” he bit out, marveling at her.

She’d been utilizing a soldering flame, her movements precise—and so quick that a mortal wouldn’t have been able to discern her hands.

Her gaze had been one of total focus as her nimble fingers wrought such a formidable weapon. Her eyes were still glowing, her irises sparkling.

A thing of beauty to watch.

When he’d first arrived, his lingering rage over her attack and his marked confusion had felt like two animals clashing inside him. That turmoil had faded as he’d watched her.

She was here, healthy and safe, with him now. The Vrekeners were dead. And she was so fucking beautiful.

His lessening fury had been replaced with
lust
. The
more he’d watched, the more aroused he’d grown, recalling how those delicate fingers had smoothed over his body just as eagerly.

Had he ever been so hard?

She set the new weapon in a special cradle, then turned to him. “We have a lot to talk about.”

He cleared his throat before saying, “Don’t let me stop you from completing it.”

She seemed at a loss. “I’ve never worked with anyone but the sylph in here.”

“That impudent being who just left?”

She gave him a look that said
You have no idea
.

That sylph was the one who watched her bathe?
A discussion for a later time, Trehan.
“Come, Bett, you look like you’re almost finished.” He traced beside her, examining the piece. “Not a single rivet?”

With an aggrieved air, she said, “I’m not a cobbler, Daciano.”

“No, you’re not.” His lips curled. “No vampire has a more talented Bride than I.”

She reached up to straighten her mask, only to realize she wasn’t wearing one. “What about your tour?”

“This workshop is the one place in Rune I longed to see. It’s impressive. Tell me what I’m looking at.”

In a begrudging tone, she said, “That bench is for fabrication, this bench is for assembly. Over there”—she pointed out a third one, topped with a wooden set of antique pocket drawers—“I do detail work: engraving, etching, poison loading.”

He reached for one of the drawers. “Your poison collection?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t touch that without a glove.”

“Ah,” he said, dropping his hand. “You must be at the detail stage.”

“My patroness likes elaborate flourishes. After you leave, I’ll etch designs along the top rings.”

“I know you want to finish the piece now.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “You could come back in an hour.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Not a chance.”

She gazed from him to her project. “There are a lot of things unsaid between us. I have . . . questions.”

“I’ll answer anything you ask me. But indulge me with this.”

Another sideways glance at the weapon.

“So close to completion,” he said in a coaxing tone. “It will be all you think of tonight. I’ll bet this final etching is your favorite part of the process.”

She glanced up in surprise. “Fine. If you’d like to be bored, I’ll continue.”

Allowing him to see a new facet of her? This concession had to mean something. Maybe she was accepting him more.

She moved the weapon to the third bench, fastening it in a cushioned vise, then opened a small chest.

“Those are?”

“Precision hand tools.” The files and chisels were works of art in themselves, each with a polished ivory handle. She confidently plucked out the smallest chisel, one with a tip not much larger than a pen point.

“Do you know what you’ll engrave?”

“Scenes from her home realm,” she answered absently, clearly ready to get to her task. “Um, you’re blocking my light.”

“Just so.” He traced back, leaning against the nearest wall.

With one hand, she began wielding the chisel, sure cuts across shining gold. With the other, she smoothed away slivers, brushing her thumb over each groove.

She had total focus on her work—he doubted she registered his presence any longer. When she pulled her glossy hair over her shoulder, narrowing her sparkling gaze, he wasn’t even surprised that his heart beat wildly.

Her movements grew faster and faster. Before his eyes, patterns began to emerge over the rings, scenes in relief. On one, she etched a dragon; on another, what looked like a well. She depicted a castle on the third. Before she started the last one, she closed her eyes and ran her fingertips over each image.

Exactly as she’d imagined exploring his shaft. He swallowed hard, and furtively adjusted it now.

Along the fourth ring, she engraved a wild, spray-tossed seashore. When she puckered her lips to blow away any trace shavings, he just stifled a groan.

One day soon, he’d take her on this bench, with her eyes alight. Yet another reason to survive tomorrow.

She tilted her head, surveying her work, a stray tweak here, a deepened groove there. “I’m done,” she said, returning the chisel to its box.

As she exhaled, rolling her head on her shoulders, he gazed from the work to her, and back to the work. So much talent! How long had it been since he’d looked at something with awe?

The better part of a millennium. “Try it on,” he said, his voice gone husky.

With a shrug, she donned it. The raised etchings seemed to come alive with each movement of her hand. One press of her thumb and a vicious-looking sneak blade shot from the bottom. Another press, and the blade slipped back inside.

When she removed the piece, placing it in its cradle, more pride shone from her eyes. She turned to him. “So, we have a lot to talk about—”

He’d already traced to her, cupping her face. “I’ll die if I don’t kiss you right now.”

Bettina gasped when his mouth met hers, her hands shooting to his chest to push him away. But his lips were so deliciously firm, and his immediate groan made her shiver.

With excitement?

How could she be excited when she still felt raw inside? Why was that empty feeling fading as he deepened his kiss?

Enjoy this,
her mind whispered.
Tonight’s your last chance.
Yes, to enjoy those smoldering looks, those strong arms around her, holding her secure against him. That connection . . .

When he lifted her to the bench and wedged his hips between her legs, she grasped his shoulders, delighted by the way they flexed under her palms.

His hands closed over her waist, his thumbs stroking just beneath her breasts. Her thoughts seemed to be scattering, leaving room only to register feeling.

Sensation, pleasure.
Yes, let him seduce you again.

Seduce.
She’d been warned of this. Just like everyone else, he was taking advantage of her. Again.

I
am
so naïve.
Even as he kissed her, tears welled in her eyes.

When they spilled over, he froze, then drew his head back. His voice grew rough. “What is this,
dragă
?”
As his gaze searched her expression, he grazed his knuckles across a line of tears.

“They told me you’d try to seduce me.”

He straightened. “I’m
not
trying to seduce you.”

She blinked. “Don’t you want to . . . you aren’t . . . oh, never mind.”

“Want to?” He gently cradled her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, over her tears. “I think about taking you to bed
constantly,
Bett. But I will never claim you completely, not until I defeat Goürlav. I wouldn’t risk even the slightest chance that you’d be vulnerable to the primordial. Once I leave you this eve, you’ll be a virgin still.” When two more tears tracked down her now heated cheeks, he rasped, “Why are you crying?”

“Why not?” She dashed the back of her hand over her eyes. “Everything in my life is wrong. I’ve quarreled with my guardians. I’ve quarreled with Caspion for the first time—”

“Always that demon!” His hands dropped to his sides.

“And apparently, I’m quarreling with
you
now! I should be railing at you, not kissing you. You took my memories, you’ve seen inside my head. And you
knew
what would happen if we kissed that night. You got me to a point where I didn’t care if your fangs were sharp. It was a calculated move on your part.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“I hate it when you do that!”

“I did want your blood—so that I could find your foes. But it was also true that I had very little control over my fangs. I’ve worked on my control ever since that night.”

“And what about your actions in this round of the tournament? The Vrekeners might consider your move an act of war. I won’t have been queen for a day before they descend upon us, bringing strife to my people.”

The vampire’s eyes flickered. “They declared war on your realm when they attacked the sole heir to its throne!”

Her lips parted. Exactly what she’d said to Morgana earlier today.

“They stole the root power of a great sorceress.” In a softer tone, he said, “Bett, they executed your mother.”

And indirectly killed my father as well.
She pinched her forehead. “I understand
why
you killed them. I thank you for that! But you shouldn’t have revealed them in public.”

“Of course I should have. It signals to the Vrekeners that they aren’t beyond our reach. They
can
be found, and there will be swift consequences to their actions.”

“You sound like Morgana.”
With your actions, you train others how to treat you.

“In this, she is right. I come from a closed realm, one hidden like Skye Hall. If anyone were to find his way to us in Dacia, the kingdom would be rocked. The Vrekeners will be as well. Failing to retaliate would tell them that they can do whatever they please to you and your kind. Eventually they would attack you again. They would not stop.”

She knew this. The hawk would find the escaped mouse. “How did you find the Hall?”

“I didn’t, not precisely.” He pulled out the leather lead he always wore, showing her the attached crystal. “This is a scry talisman.”

“You own an
authentic
scry crystal?” Did he never run out of surprises?

“It’s been passed down from my ancestors for generations. I’ve only to imagine a being’s face, and it will lead me to him.”

“You told me my enemies would . . . die bloody.”

His fangs sharpened, but then he seemed to make an effort to control them. “Unimaginably so.”

“It looked like you tortured them?” Had he given them as much pain as they had her?

In general, she was a compassionate person. But like most Loreans, she savored when her foes suffered.

“I did.”

“I think I’d like”—she swallowed—“to know more about that.”

He studied her face. “I wanted to uncover where your power is being held. They were resistant at first, but ultimately I learned of a vault.”

She nodded. “That’s where they store our powers.”

“Only the leader knows where it is, and he was out of the territories. I couldn’t reach him with my crystal, because I’ve never seen him. But understand me, Bettina—we’ll get your power back. I won’t rest until we do. Clearly no one steals from my Bride and lives. I’ve only just begun this endeavor.”

For some reason, she started to believe him.

Then she remembered tomorrow’s match. “Did you . . . enjoy hurting them?”

“Every second of it,” he hissed. “Before I took each one’s head, I forced him to say your name.”