Shadow's Claim (56 page)

She had to notice them, but didn’t pull away.

“We need to drink. I can’t deny what I am.”

She
nodded
? “I’d decided to give you my blood on our wedding night. I’d regretted not trusting you to make a bite wonderful. I shouldn’t have denied you before.”

Again, she’d shocked him. Again, he moved nearer. Had she sidled closer as well?

If she could accept him, then
nothing
would stand in their way. Which meant his heart would be whole, his mind eased. He would use both to cherish her, and all would be well.

“You can accept my nature?”

She blinked at him. “I already
have
.”

“Wed me, Bett! As soon as possible. I want you to be my queen. I want us to rule together.”

“You’d truly come back to Abaddon? Give up Dacia again?”

“To have you?
Anything
. But Dacia will likely open its gates, so visiting is not out of the question.”

By now, their lips were inches apart. “We could come back and play with all your weapons?” She looked bold and breathless—and happy. Heated air whorled around her body, her sorcery mirroring her emotions.

“
Our
weapons.” He removed her mask. “As you wish to, my merry sorceress.”

“Then take me home, Trehan, to our bed.”

How those words affected him! He traced her directly there, easing her back across the silk.

Cradling her face, he bent to her lips, taking them beneath his own. With all the fervor he felt inside, he kissed her.

Only this time, no gallows awaited.

As their tongues twined, he and Bettina began ridding each other of clothes in a mad rush, hands colliding in their haste to touch bared skin.

Once he had his Bride naked, he drew back to simply gaze down at her. Swirls of light emanated from her supple skin, her eyes so lustrous. Magic heated her very palms as she reached for him, her fingertips sizzling when she swept them over his chest.

A sorceress desirous of her male.

Dipping his head, he nuzzled his lips all around one nipple, then the other, as his hand grazed up her thighs, higher . . .

She swiftly spread them, as if impatient for his touch.

With a reverent groan, he cupped her dewy sex, caressing it, demonstrating how much he adored her with every lingering stroke—

“Trehan,” she began in a breathless voice, “can you . . . can you really
wait
for this much longer?”

Against her breast, he grated, “Gods, I love your questions, female!” Like a shot, he rose above her. When he was poised at her wet entrance, she laid her soft palms on his face.

Holding his gaze, she murmured, “You know you can do
anything
to me, Trehan. I’m yours, only yours. I always will be.”

At last! Words from a dream—

She pulled her shining hair over her shoulder, baring the lovely column of her neck. “Anything, vampire.”

His fangs throbbed for that skin. “If you knew how badly I’ve craved this . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“It’s more than thirst,
dragă
. I hunger for your
lifeblood
. I need it mingling with my own forever.”

“Then take it.”

I’m truly to pierce her?
She wanted
him,
had accepted him in all ways. And he would spend eternity proving to her why she was right to.

Must make it pleasurable.

Though he quaked with eagerness, he painstakingly fed his length inside her tight sex—with a slow, hot,
wet glide to the hilt. He yelled out from the shock of pleasure, savoring her throaty moan.

Seated so deep inside her, he lowered his head, bringing his mouth to the tender skin where her neck and shoulder met. He licked her there, preparing her.

To take her blood while claiming her body. After centuries of waiting, fantasy would be made flesh. “Bett?” he rasped against her, still disbelieving.

“Now, Trehan. Now!”

As he opened his jaw wider, his fangs lengthened even more. He pressed the tips against her pulse. . . .

His bite breached the surface of her skin—again, with a slow, hot, wet glide. Her sweet flesh enveloped his aching fangs—a tight seal that made him shudder above her. So tight that no blood welled.

He had to
suck
her, and the feel of it was . . .

So fucking perfect.

He gave a wretched groan as her blood touched his tongue. With that first contact, Trehan lost his mind.

Or found it.

Under his fangs, she writhed, her pale throat working as she screamed, “Trehan! Ah, gods, yes!”

His hips began to rock between her thighs as he drew her essence into him—a swift, scorching infusion that coursed through his every vein.

With each drop, his weeks-long grief ebbed, his ages of loneliness faded.

His female tasted of magic and heat and mystery. Sorcery steeped her blood, now dancing in his, enlivening him body and mind.
Bettina este viaţă.

His lids slid shut with bliss as he thrust wildly, drank deeply.
Better than fantasy!

But his eyes flashed open as he felt her body readying to come, those beginning tremors like strokes around his shaft. . . .

When the vampire had eased his fangs into her flesh, Bettina had trembled with shock.

Like brands, they’d scalded her with white-hot pleasure. Like brands, they’d changed her irrevocably.

His bite
was
ruinous, pleasuring her so thoroughly she knew she would crave it forever.

As he sucked her blood with rumbling growls, ecstasy welled up inside her. Each of his draws magnified it. A cry escaped her lips, making him snarl into his bite.

Her body tightened beneath his—twisting, rocking, spiraling—rapture about to overtake her. “Vampire!
More!
”

Though his mouth and bite were gentle, his hips began to surge between her legs, pounding his thick shaft inside her, just as she needed him to.

His hands covered her breasts, kneading possessively, sending her closer to the edge. She arched into his palms, rubbing her achy nipples against his callused skin.

Friction. Pressure. His
fangs
—

“Trehan, I’m coming!” Her climax engulfed her. In turn, he drew harder from her, intensifying the spasms until they ripped through her like an electric current.

He kept thrusting, plunging into the wetness of her orgasm as it continued on and on.

She was still coming when he drove his erection as deep as it’d go. Fangs and shaft buried inside her body,
he joined her release, beginning to pump his semen into her womb.

She gloried in that first searing jet of seed. But then he had to relinquish her neck, his back bowing from the intensity of his spend.

He bared his fangs as he roared to the ceiling,
“Bettina!”
Muscles wracked, he thrashed atop her . . . again and again, filling her with copious heat. “You were made . . . for me alone.
A mea, eternitate!
”

Another frenzied thrust . . . and another . . .

With a final dazed groan, he collapsed over her, mouth back at her neck to kiss the bite, as if in thanks. When his hoarse exhalations fanned over his mark, she shivered anew, her lips curling. “Could you feel me, Trehan?”

“Ah, love, I could feel you very well,” he said, easing to his back, with her enfolded in his arms. “And you liked my bite.” Could he possibly sound any prouder?

“You
know
I did. So, is bite play something we can do daily? Or more like, hourly?”

“I love your questions, Bett.”

She raised her head, laying her elbows across his still heaving chest and surveyed her vampire. The change in him was immediate—and profound.

She noted the color tingeing his high cheekbones, the swelling of his muscles as her lifeblood became his, the clearness of his eyes.

Green like Abaddon’s forest.

And when he smiled at her, with his black hair tousled over his forehead and his eyes dancing, he took her breath. That grinding tension . . . had
disappeared
.

He brushed a braid from her cheek. Sounding very
much like a well-pleasured male, he rasped, “I love you,
dragă mea
.”

“I love you too.” She sighed like a sap, knowing she was gazing at him with a dreamy expression.
“Bad.”

He cast her a double-take, then his grin deepened. Satisfaction rolling off him in waves, he held up his warrior’s hand to view his ring. “Will any spikes pop out of this, I wonder.”

“Only if you try to take it off.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest. “No chance of that. I’d get you a ring as well, but I’d never find one equal to what you can create.”

“If you wear my ring, I’ll wear your bite.”

He brushed her hair from her neck. “Already it fades.”

“I guess you’ll just have to give me another one.” She felt his shaft pulse at her words.

“Delightedly,” he said in a husky tone. “But first, I meant what I said, Bett. I want to wed you as soon as possible. Today.”

“Okay! It counts as
two
boons. . . .” Yet then her excitement dimmed somewhat.

“What is it?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Do you recall the woman who was with me in the bar? She’s my patroness, Sabine. She’s been searching for you.” At his quizzical glance, Bettina said, “Her sister has been taken by Vrekeners, and she’s very interested to learn how you reached Skye Hall.”

“I see. Do you want me to help her find her sister?”

“I . . . maybe? In any event, I feel like I should warn you—the more I look at my life, the more complicated it seems. Are you sure you want to sign on?”

Looking very fierce, he grated, “Try and stop me, Bett.” He drew her down against him, her cheek resting against his strong heart.

He squeezed her tighter with a brawny, possessive arm, nuzzling her hair.

“I’m serious, vampire,” she said, tracing nervous patterns over his skin. “Can you handle my assembled ragtag family, a snarky peeping phanTom, life among deathly demons, and potentially a hell-plane intervention for a friend? Oh, and possibly leaving within the hour to plot a Sorceri rescue?”

She felt Daciano grin against her hair and knew what he was about to say. And she knew she’d believe him.

“Yes,” her vampire said simply. “My love,
yes
.”

And now, an exclusive sneak peek at

Kresley Cole’s
POISON PRINCESS
Book 1 in the Arcana Chronicles Series

Post-apocalyptic tales filled with riveting action, dark mysticism, and breathtaking romance . . . .

* * *

The characters on Tarot cards are real.

The Huntress, the Fool, Death, the Lovers . . . and eighteen other Major Arcana all exist. These warriors, femme fatales, magicians, and devils each have uniquely lethal powers.

And they’re coming for me.

To survive, I’ll have to embrace my own terrifying abilities—and team up with dangerously handsome Jack Deveaux, one of the few people I know that also survived the Flash. But if Jack ever beholds what I truly am, will he abandon me to my fate . . . ?

* * *

Day 235 A.F.

Deeper in Mississippi

“Do you need to slow down?” Jackson yelled over the winds.

I shook my head, wanting to continue on. We’d left my home almost two weeks ago; I was beginning to fear we’d never get out of this state.

Bandannas over our faces and sunglasses in place, we meandered through another deserted town, with a windstorm whipping around us—and tremors beneath our feet.

Lucky for us, the storms had become more sporadic and shorter, lasting just an hour or two a day. A blessing, since we remained carless.

Even if Jackson could fix a vehicle, the tank would be empty.

On foot, we’d started seeing gaunt-cheeked survivors every now and then, peeking out from behind barricaded windows. Much to Jackson’s annoyance, I always gave them a tentative wave. But none of them had wanted anything to do with us.

“You stay right behind me,” he said now, pressing on. He would always walk first, blocking the wind for me, insisting I draft behind him.

During the worst part of the storms, I would curl my forefinger around one of his belt loops, which always seemed to amuse him.

I did so now, dumbly following his broad back down yet another “main” street. During daylight hours, Jackson usually had the shotgun in hand, with his bow and bag slung over his shoulders.

Today, he also carried something far more exciting—

Without warning, my head started to pound. My nose itched, then began to bleed.

Which meant another hallucination featuring Matthew, the self-proclaimed Fool card. What would he want to talk to me—telepathically—about today?

My bandanna was continually bloody on the inside, courtesy of his appearances. Jackson might keep the voices in check, but Matthew showed whenever.

And with each visit I’d become more convinced that he was, in fact,
sending
me visions. I didn’t believe I’d ever been clairvoyant. He was the only one with that talent.