Shadow's Claim (46 page)

“I told you, Bett . . . that you’d have me as deep”—circling those hips—“and as hard as you need me.”

She couldn’t answer his words—because pleasure gathered right at that spot in a sudden blinding wave.

As if from a distance she heard herself scream his name. Mindless, she writhed beneath him, clutching his hair, rubbing her nipples against his sweating skin.

Was that her throaty voice, shamelessly begging him?
Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.

“Never!”

With a wet rush, she orgasmed around his erection, spasms so strong he had to feel them, tugging his length deeper,
deeper
—the connection unending. . . .

Control fraying.
No, don’t follow her!

Keep your seed, keep your seed,
Trehan’s mind chanted. Must make it last.

But what male on earth could withstand that irresistible clench?
A better male than I.

And then her abandon?
She screamed my name as she thrashed on my shaft!

Somehow,
somehow,
he’d steeled himself against her wanton response as her release subsided.

Wide-eyed, breathless, she asked, “Could you . . . could you feel me do it?”

She’s asking me if I felt her orgasm
. He shuddered.
Her innocent question, posed in that sultry voice . . . “Ah, gods, Bett, yes! Yes, I could feel you very well.”

And now the slippery heat of her climax beckoned him to plunge deeper, to revel in it.

He might have succeeded in keeping his seed for now, but he was paying for it. Urges began to spur him, primal drives that he’d never contended with before.

When a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead to her neck, sliding down, his gaze followed the track—then fixed once more on her pulse. He was not only battling his need to take her blood—he was denying the overwhelming drive to plant his semen deep inside his woman.

Both instincts screamed inside him.

Mark her neck, claim her! Pound between her thighs. Give her everything—your bite, your come, her female pleasure.

Until she surrenders completely.

He gaped down, stunned to find he’d collected her wrists, locking them over her head.
Pin her, possess her. Master her!
He felt very little like a Dacian, and very much like a savage vampire.

And it felt . . .
good
.

“Trehan?”

No! He wasn’t some common Horde vampire. He could control these impulses!

So why did he feel like he was denying them both something critical?

Dimly, he bargained with himself:
Just a taste, a graze of your fang as you spend.
The fantasy from his youth finally come true—

“Y-you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

She fears me?
He remembered her heartbroken
plea the first time they’d been together. Somehow he gathered the ragged tatters of his restraint, forcing his predator’s gaze from her neck—to focus on her shimmering eyes. “
Never
hurt you.” He released her wrists, then twined his fingers with hers. As he began to move inside her once more, her eyes anchored him.
“Better?”

She answered by going soft beneath him, opening up, meeting his thrusts. A plaintive moan escaped her lips.

Another bargain with himself, one he accepted:
When she comes again, you join her.

To this end, he used his body to work hers, pumping his hips while she writhed on his pistoning cock.

Her eyes widened once more. “
A-again,
vampire?”

Between his gnashed teeth, he commanded her, “Ah, gods,
again,
my sweet.”

Even before she screamed, he felt the telltale squeeze around his shaft. The pressure of his rising seed mounted; his muscles tensed in readiness, his mind blanking.

“You—are—
mine
!” he roared as the clench of her orgasm milked him to perfection. No longer could he resist its demand.
“Eşti a mea!”

Pleasure wracked him, made him throw back his head and bellow her name as he began to ejaculate deep inside his woman. Scorching jets of semen bathed her womb . . . over and over . . . until his voice was hoarse, his body emptied.

Never letting you go, female. Never!

With a dazed groan, he collapsed over her. Between breaths, he rasped,
“Bettina, eternitate.”

T
he next morning, rain poured outside, the wind whipping Bettina’s tower, lightning flashing all around.

But she was cozy inside her workshop, humming as she polished the most important piece of jewelry she’d ever created.

A wedding ring for tonight’s ceremony.

She’d started on it as soon as Daciano had left her at dawn. In the hours before that, they’d laughed, touched, and explored each other’s bodies in her bed. Actually, it was now
their
bed, in
their
rooms. He’d claimed them as well.

With Daciano in her life, suddenly her spire didn’t feel like a cloistered prison, but a hideaway for them from the world.

“I dunno what tune you’re hummin’,” Salem said as he appeared beside her, “but I’ll bet the lyrics go like this:
‘I—love—sex.’ ”

Bettina shrugged mysteriously, deciding not to be one to kiss and tell. But, yes, she did in fact now
love
sex. She had decided this after the first time, then
enthusiastically
confirmed it on the second and third.

She and Daciano probably would have enjoyed a fourth, but he’d been hindered by his healing wounds.

Just before he’d traced away this morning, he’d tucked her into bed. His hair had been tousled over his forehead, his eyes devilish. “I have some things I have to take care of today. But I await more of this tonight.”

She’d been wide-eyed and not a little awed by her vampire lover. As he’d pressed a kiss to her hair, he’d murmured, “Last night, I made you my Bride; tonight, I’ll make you my wife.”

Bettina Daciano?
Instead of the constant crushing loss she’d come to expect in this tournament, now all she felt was excitement. To be his wife? To have an immortal lifetime of nights like the last, of losing herself in his onyx gaze . . . ?

There’d been no sleep for her; she’d rushed to her workshop and started on a gold band for him. It was simple in design to suit his taste.

And now, she understood the symbolism of an unending circle more than she ever had.

“Oh, and by the way, right thanks to you for the proverbial sock on the doorknob, flatmate,” Salem said, occupying the backboard. “I had nowhere to go.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t return to my room, you peeping phanTom.”

“
Of course
I returned. Would’ve stayed too. But last night, you and the vamp were so loving—and yet oh, so
durty
—it messed wiv me mind.” He made a shuddering sound. “Seems you got over Cas quickly
enough. R.I.P. tonight, demon. Hookers the worlds over will go into mourning.”

She rolled her eyes. “
Nothing
is going to happen to Cas. Daciano found an escape clause in the rules because he’s
brilliant
. Bottom line: both of them are going to live.” She tucked the polished band into a velvet pouch for safe keeping.

Instead of sharing her happiness, Salem merely said, “Sounds a little too good to be true.”

“The vampire can’t lie, and he said they’d both survive.” But Salem’s comment got her thinking. The outcome might be as she wanted it, but the crowd’s reaction might not be.

If there was a draw at the end, the rowdy and drunken Abaddonae might riot. Some entourages of fallen contestants still lingered—would they accuse Rune of fixing the tournament?

Thinking like a queen?
Perhaps she should institute some precautions. She could assign soldiers to trail the entourages, then station even more guards at the ready for crowd control.

Should she ration the demon brew? No, that’d be wildly unpopular. She tapped her chin. But free baked goods would soak it up! She began scribbling her decrees for tonight.

“So you think this ‘draw’ is going to make everything just peachy?” Salem asked.

She stilled. “Maybe I do.”

“And what about the tension between the vamp and Caspion? Daciano’s still an assassin—what’s to keep him from offing Cas directly after the tournament?”

“
Me
. He knows I could never forgive him for that.” She’d told Daciano as much in the folly.

Salem shimmered from the backboard into a nearby drill bit. “All right, say the leech actually gives the demon a pass. You can’t be thinking that the two of them’ll just live here and be chums. Two swinging-dick alphas like that? You’re deluded if you believe they won’t be at each other’s throats.”

“It won’t happen. I won’t
allow
it to happen,” Bettina said, as if she were used to getting her way. Perhaps she hadn’t been in the past, but in the future—

“Don’t be a git. Daciano’s going to run Cas out of this kingdom—and your life—at the earliest.”

“They’ll
both
be in my life, Salem. My husband and my best friend. Eventually I’ll bring them around.”

“Lemme know how that goes for you, dovey. . . .”

She sensed Morgana arriving then. “Godmother’s here.” She’d wondered when the sorceress would show up to gossip.

Bettina and Salem were waiting in the sitting room when the doors to the spire whooshed open.

“Wine! Details!” Morgana looked different this morning. She always had a glow about her, but now she seemed
cheery
. . . .

They took their wine on her settee, Salem returning to his perch in Morgana’s headdress.

Instead of providing the salacious account Morgana expected, Bettina revealed the new development: that both males would survive tonight.

Yet the sorceress didn’t seem overly surprised by the information. “That’s
interesting,
” she said as she examined the end of a braid. “Alert me when we’re about to get to the good parts.”

“Fine! I was with the vampire, and it was
wonderful,
okay?”

She peered at Bettina’s neck. “He didn’t bite you?”

“No, I asked him to wait—and he did.”

“Interesting,” Morgana repeated.

“Oh, she had that leech in a right state,” Salem explained. “She could’ve asked him to slam a sun shooter, and he’d have demanded seconds. Seems the chit’s got some upskirt action we hadn’t suspected—”

“In any case,” Bettina interrupted firmly, talking over her blush, “I have a lot of stuff to do. I need to make sure we’re prepared for any reaction the crowd might have.”

“Oh, is this a bad time? It sounds like you’re a very important freakling now. Kind of a big deal. Huh?”

“One night o’ sex, and she thinks she’s Madonna,” Salem quipped.

“You’re obviously busy.” Morgana rose. “I guess I can wait till a more convenient time to talk to you about your power.”

“P-power?”

“The tides have turned. This Accession, the Sorceri will rise once more. Thanks to the scythe.”

“How? What does that mean? Y-you said you couldn’t get my sorcery back from the weapon. That it was just a conduit to get powers up to the vault.”

“I lied. I wasn’t sure if this was possible at the time, and my style is to under-promise and over-deliver. But I’ve used my unparalleled abilities and the full force of my sorcery to—how do I put this?—reverse the flow. Only two virgins and a basket of puppies had to be sacrificed for the ritual.”

Bettina swallowed, hoping she was kidding. “You’ve stolen back
all
the Sorceri powers?”

“Naturally I’ve collected a few abilities for my own—a kind of tax on my subjects, as it were, for our
defense. But most powers will be returned to their rightful owners.”

Bettina’s heart began to pound.
Like
this
rightful owner?

“Incidentally, after I downloaded all those powers, I
uploaded
a nasty little spell for our Vrekener foes.”

“What kind of spell?”

“Let’s put it this way: the mighty? Oh, how they will fall. And that’s all I’ll say on the subject.”