Shadow's Claim

Chapter 18

Looking for all the world like he was about to kiss her, the vampire eased closer until she could perceive the heat coming off his body.

Lips parted, brows drawn, he reached down to gently cup her face, tugging her to him—

She shoved against his chest. “Stop! This is not why I’m here.”

He eventually released her, his gaze narrowed.

Analyzing me. She knew vampires were an inherently logical species, but she’d never met any who exhibited that trait. Their minds had been tainted by bloodlust, their irises—and even the whites of their eyes—gone red from it.

She’d never met a clear-eyed vampire before, and now she was the object of this one’s study.

“One boon, then—for a kiss.”

She gave him a disappointed look. “You want my favors to be, well, sexual? Is that why you’ve maneuvered me into this bargaining? You’re hardly playing fair.”

Curling his finger under her chin, he said, “Do you really think I’ll play fair when the prize is so dear?” With his other hand, he reached for her mask, gently unlacing it to remove the silk. Seeming captivated by her face, he bit out, “Zeii mea, beauty, you speak to me of playing fair? You’ve vanquished me with one move.”

Her cheeks heated furiously. Why did she feel such a thrill at each of his compliments? Because others’ compliments were so rare?

She reminded herself that he was a stone-cold killer, clearly a manipulator. He was so much older, with lifetimes more experience than she had. “You told me you wouldn’t return for me. You seemed perfectly okay with the idea of never seeing me again. Now this? I want to know what changed.”

“Me. For centuries, I lived a life of service, never desiring anything for myself. And now I do desire.” He eased closer to her. “Bettina, I desire beyond reason.”

His scent and heat permeated her senses. Did all vampires smell this mouthwatering? Maybe as a predatory tool to lure quarry like her? It was working.

Again she felt weak and breathless, the flash-fever returned. It seemed like her body was so busy struggling to regain equilibrium that her thought processes suffered. “I-I have a hard time believing you’d leave your home, a home you treasure.”

At her ear, he rasped, “To treasure you.”

He could be smooth, she’d give him that. But then she remembered that he planned to kill Caspion.

She drew her head back. “Why? You know nothing about me. Your blooding makes you attracted to me. Your desire is actually just a quirk of fate.”

“Does the blooding affect me? Yes. I need to protect you, to claim you, to”—he stopped himself—“to . . . possess you in every way.”

What exactly did that mean? What had he been about to say?

“But you also fascinate me. Your creations intrigue me.”

“You’re a flatterer.”

“Never. A teller of truths.”

“You can tell me all the truths you like, vampire, but I’m still not going to kiss you. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“I see. Very well, Bettina.”

Funny. She’d thought he would put up more of a fight—

Suddenly his arm wrapped around her, mist filling her vision. One of his fingers pressed over her lips.

A split second later, another vampire traced into the tent, a younger squire who looked nervous, twitchy—and fearful of Daciano.

Ah, gods, she was seen!

But the squire quickly set about his duties, paying no attention to her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as if that would hide her from his gaze.

After a few moments, he asked, “Anything else . . . my lord?” His voice broke midsentence.

She peeked open her eyes. The young vampire hadn’t even glanced at her. Was she hidden in Daciano’s mist? Was that even possible?

“That will be all,” Daciano said. “Do not return until gloaming tomorrow.”

When the squire disappeared, Bettina said, “He couldn’t see me?”

“You’re my Bride. I can hide you.”

“That was too close!” She shoved against Daciano’s chest, but he didn’t release her. “This is such a bad idea—wait a second. Why did that squire ready your bath?”

“You told me earlier tonight that you expected to be treated like a lady.”

“Yes, so?”

His eyes bored into hers. “A lady tends to her lord’s bath.”

“What are you talking . . .” She trailed off. “You’re not my lord!” She gave another shove that he didn’t even seem to register.

“A boon says I am tonight.”

“This was a—a carefully orchestrated trap! You planned all this, manipulating me!”

“Yes.”

When he simply admitted to things like that, it seriously undermined her outrage. “You’re insane.”

“Perhaps all these unredeemed favors have gone to my head.”

“You’re not even in need of a bath.”

“A bath can have other purposes. Here are your choices: you tend to my bath—or I’ll tend to yours.”

The look in his eyes told her that he was leaning toward the latter.

To have this male running soap all over her naked body . . . ? What would that be like?

Gaze dropping to her neck, he said, “I could demand far worse than this.”

Such as a drink? Was that what he’d meant when he’d said, “possess you in every way”?

“Bettina, you didn’t have to agree to our bargain.”

“Of course I did. I would have done anything to save Caspion.”

Some dark, primal emotion flashed over his face, and his arms tightened around her. “Have care, sorceress. You tread upon perilous ground.”

She swallowed with fear. Strangely, not for herself, only for Caspion. “You still want him dead. So why save him earlier? It only increases the likelihood that you will have to kill him.”

“If we’re pitted against each other, I won’t have a choice but to defeat him, so you’ll be more likely to forgive me. If I hadn’t saved him today, that would have been a choice you might not have forgiven. Besides, these favors will help me win your affections of my own accord—not simply because my competitor no longer exists.”

“So that’s what motivates you? Competition with Cas?”

He gave a humorless laugh. “Soon you’ll find there is no competition with that demon. What motivates me is the lovely prize I’ll possess.” He set her away to begin unbuttoning his shirt. “And you’ll stall no more.” His gaze raked along her body as he began to bare his. Again, she fought the need to fan herself.

When Daciano removed his shirt, she turned away, but not before she got a look at his muscular chest in the firelight.

His skin was smooth—and completely unmarked from the melee. In the ring, he’d been saturated with blood. But only from others?

She also glimpsed that crystal around his neck. His clothing style was simple and unembellished; she wondered why he wore that lead.

Is he removing his boots?

Keeping her back to him as he undressed was more difficult than she would have supposed. What woman wouldn’t crave seeing the vampire’s body, especially after touching it in the dark the night before?

But for Bettina, it was even worse. She had an artist’s eye, and right now that sensibility was clamoring to see this male naked. As a subject. Nothing more.

His pants landed over a chair to her right. She swallowed. He’s naked in this tent with me.

When he descended into the water, she snapped, “I’m not doing this,” even as she mused, I should have peeked.

“Then prepare for worse.”

Her thoughts ran riot. Scrubbing his back was preferable to a thousand other things he could have demanded. “But I’ve never bathed anyone before.”

“I’m confident you’ll stumble your way through this.”

She scowled up at the ceiling. Oh, how bad could a bath be? She would refuse to wash any part of him below the waist. I won’t get caught up like I did last night.

Because this time she’d know he wasn’t Cas.

“It counts as five boons,” she said. Then she’d have only two left after this, and her greedy gaze could be appeased to an extent. His back was plenty to start out with.

“Three,” he countered.

“Four.”

“Agreed,” he said.

Okay, only three left. With straightened shoulders, she turned toward the tub. I can do this. As she approached, she realized the water was sudsy and steaming, concealing his body from just below those developed pecs down.

Which was a good thing. It was.

She knelt behind him, beginning to remove one glove.

He turned sharply, twisting to watch her, as if he didn’t want to miss even this small unveiling.

Flustered again. When she began to roll it down her arm, she did feel like she was stripping—for him. By the second glove, his eyes were flickering.

Once her arms were bared, he handed her a cloth and soap, and their fingers touched. Another current seemed to leap between them. He glanced up quickly, as if to gauge if she’d felt it too.

Whatever he saw appeared to satisfy him. At length he gave her his back.

In the steam, a few locks of his hair grew tousled about his neck. Black, black hair that gleamed like jet. His leather tie caught her attention. “You don’t want to remove your crystal?”

“Never,” was all he said.

She wondered where he’d gotten it. Had a former lover given it to him? “Fine.” She assumed a businesslike demeanor, unwilling for him to know how much this prospect alternately excited and dismayed her. Soaping up the cloth, she rubbed it across smooth, taut skin from one of his shoulders to the other.

Repeat. He wasn’t the only one who could be methodical. One shoulder to the other. Repeat.

Had that movement been a bit more leisurely? Perhaps; his muscles flexed in response.

He’d killed with those muscles. He’d killed for her.

Inward shake. Another sweep of the cloth. “Do you always have unwilling females bathe you?”

“You’re a first in many regards.” Without warning, he snagged the cloth from her. “Continue without it.”

“Why?” Was that her voice sounding so breathless?

“You enjoyed touching me last night.” He stretched his long arms along the sides of the tub. “It’s my hope that you will again.”

“This was your plan? You think to seduce me like this?”

“Yes.”

How could one word hold so much confidence? She swallowed, but did continue running her palms over his shoulders and neck.

Yes, she’d always had an artist’s eye. She looked at things in terms of relief and shadow, color and contrast. Because of the nature of her work, she paid attention to form and function.

And now she could see the shapes she’d only felt. She could take her time registering the utter might of his body.

The raised muscles around his shoulders. The indentation above each of his bulging biceps. The strong fingers now clutching the side of the tub.

She couldn’t decide which of her senses Daciano appealed to most. Tactile, visual? Not to mention his vampire scent. She wasn’t even surprised to find her slick palms slipping lower down his back, exploring him.

Outside, the rain began to pour, the wind to howl. Inside was all sultry warmth and glowing firelight. Her eyelids drooped to half-mast, then slid shut as she lost herself in sensation—the texture of his skin beneath her sensitive fingertips, the unyielding form of his sculpted back, the heat rising from the water, from his very body.

For her work, she honed and tweaked, iteration after iteration, until she found her creation faultless.

I wouldn’t change an inch of his body. Not one single inch.

As she wondered if she could grow addicted to this . . . this exploration, she kneaded his neck. He exhaled a relaxed breath, sinking back into her hands.

She went up on her knees to reach farther forward—and possibly to steal a peek. But the water still concealed him. All she could make out was a shadowy shape at his groin, that enticingly large shape she’d stroked. Had it pulsed in the water?

How titillating. She would give karats to see it.

Too late, she realized she’d dipped her palms over his shoulders, down past his collarbone. She was officially tending to his “front.”

Relaxed no more, he grew tense as a spring trap, even as his knees fell wide.

Instead of alarm, excitement coursed through her. Her hands slipped lower.

His knuckles went white as he gripped the side of the tub. The metal began to bend under the pressure. . . .