Shadow's Claim

Chapter 30

“You’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.”

“Why would you do that?” They’d died with her name upon their lips?

“I wanted each to acknowledge why death had come for him, to whom he was paying the ultimate debt.”

“And they complied? When they knew you were going to kill them anyway?”

“By that point, they did as I commanded—so that I would kill them.”

I’d once known pain that great. . . .

“Protecting you is my purpose in life, Bettina. I was born to defend you. To be your shield.” He eased even closer, staring down at her. “After a single dream, I also became your sword, your vengeance.”

She averted her eyes. “In that dream, did you see my cowardice?”

He gently pinched her chin, raising her face to him. “There were four of them. Males in their prime—”

“I begged.” Shame scalded her.

“I experienced your pain. It was some of the worst I’ve ever felt. And I’ve lived so long, Bettina.”

“What else did you see of my life?” She knew he would point out her weakness, her dependency on her guardians, her useless panting after Caspion.

“You view the world differently than I do.”

“Of course I do. You’re a brave warrior. I’m . . . not.”

“You’re an artist. You see beauty in so much, noting details I never would have seen. You have a sensibility I could only imagine before.” He parted his lips, then paused for a moment, as if he wanted to get his next words exactly right. “I’ve spent my entire life killing. I destroy. You create. You’ve opened my eyes to a new world. I crave more of it. More of you.”

After he’d experienced her memories, he wanted her more? She hadn’t seen that coming.

But then his words sank in. He wouldn’t get more, even if she decided to give it to him.

“You’re talking of things to come?” You’re going to die in less than twenty-four hours! “Your future likely ends tomorrow night. And mine? I’ll be given over to Goürlav with war brewing. That creature will possess my summoning medallion, and whoever controls it, controls me. It’s a bond I can’t break, one I can’t outrun. I will never be free.”

“Your medallion will never make it from Raum’s hand to Goürlav’s.”

“How can you say that?” she cried.

“I’ve instructed my cousins to do whatever it takes to save you should I fall. Three Dacians have vowed to protect you eternally. And, Bride, there’s little three Dacians can’t do if they actually unite in a cause.”

His precautions stunned her, but her flare of hope quickly died. She didn’t see how they could circumvent the blood contract of the tournament. “Raum will be compelled to hand over my medallion.”

“And he will—in a bank of mist where anything can get lost. Should my kinsmen fail to seize your freedom, they’ll trace Goürlav to a hell plane and slaughter him. They’d do it now if he wasn’t protected.”

Not to be wed to a monster? Could she actually remove one worry from the mountain of them?

Great. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to save her childhood love—as well as this vampire who’d invaded her thoughts, her very life.

Who’d given her this gift.

She must’ve looked stunned, because he grated, “When I said I’d protect you, female, I meant it. I’ll do it from the godsdamned grave if I have to.”

Such . . . devotion. Yet she couldn’t understand how he could feel so strongly for her in such a short period of time. “You’ve only known me for a week.”

“Time enough to know we’re connected.”

“Because I’m your fated, mystical Bride.”

“Yes, you brought me back to life,” he said wryly, “an event that shouldn’t be discounted so easily. But we’re connected by more than that. I felt you, long before I first saw you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“At the very time you were attacked, I was roused from sleep. My chest ached with the need to protect . . . something.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It was an unformed, chaotic urge, but, gods, it was strong. I thought I’d go mad from it. Had I been out in the world, I could have sensed you better, could have found you sooner. It was my fault you were vulnerable to those four. That’s why I was so determined to discover who they were—to right the wrong I did to you.”

“It wasn’t your fault—it was solely mine,” she insisted. “I went to the mortal plane without guards. I told myself if I didn’t use sorcery, I’d be hidden from their kind. But I used it unconsciously. They tracked me by it.”

“I should have been there to watch your back!” he insisted. “After a millennium awaiting you in Dacia, I should have known my Bride would be out in the world. Zeii mea, I felt something that day.”

“Do Dacians have a sense like that?”

“We’ve abilities unknown to most. But I believe that you called for your male, your protector. That night, you called for me.”

My male. Why did that sound so totally right to her? Had she somehow reached out to this vampire? If Daciano was in fact hers. . . .

Then she remembered their present circumstances. “Even if we do share some bond, it won’t matter!” The vampire’s in it to win it. But that was just it: he couldn’t win. No matter what, they could never be together. “Tomorrow, you’re probably going to . . . die.”

“How would that make you feel, Bettina?”

Another tear slid down her face.

He pulled her into his arms. “You would mourn me?”

“Yes!” she said in exasperation. “But just because I don’t want you to die doesn’t mean I’m not confused about everything. Tonight was a shock, and I don’t know how to react.”

“I see. You need a break from all this, a night to recharge.” I wish! “Here. I have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t like surprises.” She raised her chin. “Such as when heads tumble out in front of me.”

In a gruff tone, he admitted, “I thought I’d have time to prepare you for the sight. I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“I happen to frighten very easily.”

“Forgive me. For now, I’ve little else to give you.”

She softly said, “Because you abandoned your kingdom for me.”

“A worthwhile sacrifice. Now, can you trust me that this will be a pleasant surprise?”

“I don’t . . . oh, very well.”

“Close your eyes.” When she reluctantly did, he traced her . . .

To her favorite place in all of Abaddon—her folly in the great rain forest.

She was about to ask how he knew about it, but remembered that he probably knew everything about her now.

And he still wants me.

She sighed, gazing around. Located near the marsh’s edge, the structure consisted of a marble base with ten columns, each carved to look like a different type of basilisk.

Above, over a net of gold filament, a dome of vines grew in a tightly knit riot of green. More vines stretched between the columns to fashion walls. Oversize blossoms fanned out intermittently, bold circles of vivid yellow.

My folly. Compared to Rune, the rain forest was ablaze with color. How she’d missed this place!

The vampire had slain her enemies, had taken pains to protect her from Goürlav, and now had given her this.

Then she noticed that he’d already been here, bringing furs from his tent as well as wine and food for her.

“A picnic?” She raised her brows at him. “You expect me to believe you don’t plan to seduce me? You’ve gone and set up all those precautions to protect me from Goürlav, and yet you’re not confident enough to have sex with me?”

In a husky voice he said, “Do you desire me to do so this night?”

“No!” If circumstances were different . . . maybe? “You just keep telling me you don’t intend to have sex with me.”

“Not by choice—I fantasize about it without cease!” He leaned down to rasp at her ear, “How I’ll prepare your sweet little body to receive me, how I’ll ease you into lovemaking so you crave me as much as I do you.” As she shivered from his words, he pulled back with a sexy curl of his lips. “In any event, I said I wouldn’t seduce you fully. Though up to a point is still in play.”

Flustered, she reached for a mask that wasn’t there, then backed away from him to stroll the perimeter. She surveyed all the pie blossoms, named so because each bloom was as big as a pie, its scent as sweet. As she ran her fingertips along damp marble, registering the sensation, the vampire said nothing. But his gaze followed her every move.

A guy who likes you wants to watch you all the time. Daciano stared at her—as if there was nothing else to behold.

“If you do win this tournament, vampire, you’ll be king of this plane,” she said. “Don’t you care to see any of it? This is probably the prettiest place in Abaddon.” And there was a natural phenomenon that took place on nights like this. Before the rain comes the clear. Soon a break would open in the fog bank, revealing a breathtaking scene above.

He joined her. “I want you to show it to me.”

She waved a hand around. “Look on.”

“I see a swamp. The flora is visually appealing, the air muggy, the trees gigantic. But I now know there’s so much more. I want to see it as you do.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “I see . . . function. Nothing is static. I see the growth patterns in a line of vine: bursts of it each rainy season. Those broad leaves toward the ground are much fuller to catch the snippets of sunlight that filter through.” He looked so interested, she found herself saying, “In a few minutes, if you go to the glade just there and look up, you’ll see a unique sight. It’s beautiful.”

“You will show it to me.”

Her? Walking into that clearing? In the center of all those towering moonraker trees? She nearly snorted. Not going to happen, vampire. Even with Daciano here, she couldn’t tolerate that risk.

But wasn’t this folly also flanked with those trees?

Where Vrekeners were wont to perch.

She looked at the closest tree, a massive wooden tower looming beside her. Next to it, she felt as tiny as an ant. As powerless as one.

Her breaths began to shallow as her gaze followed the trunk up and up—until it disappeared into the ghostly fog above. That oh-so-familiar seed of anxiety grew.

There could be a colony of Vrekeners up there, and she’d never see them.

But they could see her. . . .