Shadow's Claim

Chapter 31

Trehan saw the exact moment panic quickened inside her. Her body shot still even as her heart began to race.

“Easy, love.” He was at her side in an instant, hands covering her shoulders.

Her eyes were wide and locked on a nearby tree, her breaths hitching.

“Look at me, Bett. Look at me!” He cupped her paling cheeks, making her face him. “Breathe. Inhale, exhale.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping his shoulders, digging her nails into the muscle. “I’m supposed to take breathing advice . . . from someone who didn’t use his lungs . . . for centuries?”

“Nothing can ever touch you when you’re with me,” he said in a comforting tone, placing his palms over her back. She seemed so frail as she gasped for air, her shoulder blades so fragile beneath his callused palms. My delicate little Bride. His hands felt too large and rough against her, but when he rubbed her back, it seemed to soothe her.

“I-I want to return to my spire.” Finally she opened her eyes.

He gazed down at her, studying her expression. She’s trying to get control. He could wrap her in mist, but he didn’t believe she needed it. She appeared to be tamping down the worst of her panic. “I don’t think that’s what you want me to do.”

“Why on earth not?” Her voice was shrill, even as her breaths were steadying.

“You’re reining this back in. You’re beating it.”

“I can beat it—back in my rooms!”

“Those Vrekeners stole more than your ability, they stole your enjoyment of this place. You can reclaim it tonight.”

Her heart sped up again. “This is some kind of test? Some kind of catharsis? You’ll help me past my fear? No, thanks! I don’t have to do this now. One day I’ll get my power back, and then I’ll be cured.”

“You’re more than just power.”

“So says the male that has so much of it!” She fretted her bottom lip. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I-I don’t want to be like this—cowards don’t want to be cowards. But I also never wanted to be the type of female who needs a male to be strong.”

“Fitting. Because I never wanted to be the type of vampire who can think of nothing but his Bride. In any case, you don’t need me to be strong. You simply need me here for this first step—which is that way.” He pointed to the three stairs leading out of the folly into the glade.

“What can possibly make you think I’m capable of this? Why do you have so much faith in me?”

“I’d ask you why you have so little,” he said. “Bett, you’re teaching me how to see the world; the least I can do is help you see yourself. I’ve delved far into your mind. Deep down you know you’re remarkably intelligent; you’ve considered that your talents are unequaled; you suspect that I find you the most exquisite creature ever fashioned. You are; they are; I do.”

Before she could reply, Trehan said simply, “Greatness resides in you. Power or not, you can become empowered.”

The vampire’s words were like a bell pinging in her brain, reminding her of Morgana’s cryptic comment: “The greatest thing about having power is the mere having of power. Use the latter well, and you’ll never have to use the former.”

Bettina had figured that her godmother was advising, “Fake it till you make it.” Or “Perception is reality.”

All at once, the real meaning clicked. Power is where you find it, where you seize it, how you wield it.

Bettina finally understood. As Daciano pointed out, the Vrekeners had robbed her of this folly; she could steal it back from them.

She might not be able to get her ability back, but she could still be empowered.

It’s where you seize it!

This was a fantastic revelation. . . . But I’m still not going out into that glade.

She backed away from Daciano, away from his big, warm hands. “Greatness? Are you joking? I can’t do this. Vrekeners could be teeming in the trees, and I would never see them.” Until it was too late.

“They could very well be.”

“Wh-what was that?” Chills raced over her.

With a confident nod, he said, “There could be twenty or thirty of them. Perhaps more.”

“What?”

“It’s possible that a dozen more have landed since we’ve been discussing this.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she cried.

“Because you’re still going to walk out there.”

“The hell I am!”

“If I told you none were here, would you believe me?”

How to explain this? “I would believe you. But my mind wouldn’t . . . it wouldn’t register it.”

“Then accept that they are here. Now, what do you think would happen if our foes lie in wait?”

“They’ll attack!”

“And then?” His voice went lower, silky with menace. “Come, Bettina, you know what comes next.”

“You’d fight them?”

“I would do to them—what I did to the four.” He leaned his shoulder against a carved basilisk column; at that moment he looked far more terrifying than any dragon. “You’ll have a ring of bodies around you, more heads than you could ever fit in a sack. I’ll let you pick which Vrekener to spare—for torture.”

That shouldn’t sound so utterly appealing.

“You’re in a prime position, dragă.”

“I . . . am?”

“If there are no Vrekeners, then you’ll walk out there and reclaim this place from your enemies. If they are here—which I’m hoping for—you’ll get to witness firsthand what happens to those who think to harm my female. Win-win; either way makes for a memorable picnic,” he said dryly, his lips curling.

She stunned herself when she almost smiled in return. Maybe the connection that continued to grow between her and Daciano didn’t leave any room for emptiness—or for fear.

She gazed out at the murky glade and back. Before the rain comes the clear. “Vampire, we could go together.”

A sharp shake of his head. “You go alone.”

She shoved a braid out of her face. “Oh, come on!” This mouse simply wasn’t prepared to scurry into a clearing surrounded by trees, beneath a concealing fog.

And when that fog broke? What sight would greet her as she peered up at the sky? She called to mind the horrific image of a plummeting Vrekener. She imagined the rush of air from angry wings.

Win-win? She would look up and be met with either terror—or beauty.

Even with the vampire here, this would be a trial by fire.

Daciano eased closer to her, again muddling her mind with his mouthwatering scent. At her ear, he murmured, “Bett, I’ve dealt death in forests all over the Lore. Whenever I’m about to strike, animals, and even insects, go quiet. Listen.”

She heard a cacophony of familiar sounds. Unperturbed owls, happily squeaking bats, the steady buzz of insects.

“You see so much,” he said. “Now listen to these creatures and be assured: no predators await.”

Everything out here was going on with business as usual. Everything but silly Bettina, standing frozen, too afraid to walk twenty-five feet while the impassive world marched on.

Screw—this.

As if he’d sensed her capitulation, Daciano wrapped his hand around hers and escorted her to the folly stairs. “I’ll meet you out there.”

Am I really going to do this? Sober?

He seemed to think so. Apparently, so did some part of her she scarcely recognized.

With Daciano holding her hand, she descended the first stair.

And the second.

After a deep breath, she conquered the final one—but she curled her fingers to keep hold of his until the last moment. . . .

Just as her boot met the spongy ground, she lost that contact with the vampire and faltered, gazing back over her shoulder.

But pride lit Daciano’s masculine face, his green eyes aglow with it, his chest bowed.

Great. Now I have to do this thing, if only for more of that addictive look.

The glade lay ahead. She swallowed. How had she not noticed that the trunks and roots of those trees were so monstrous, that the fog was so creepy?

But the sounds were still raucous. Seize it!

The twenty-five feet were the longest of her life. Her thoughts raced, keeping pace with her frantic heartbeat: Before the rain comes the clear. Terror or beauty? Daciano is nearby. He’ll annihilate any Vrekeners. Nice picnic, nice picnic. Vrekener torture.

And then . . . she was in the glade, shoulders hunched—but still there.

“I-I made it,” she tentatively called, half disbelieving. “Out to the middle.”

“And so you did, love,” he called back. He couldn’t possibly sound prouder.

Within seconds, a break opened in the fog bank, just as she’d known it would. A downdraft of warm air dissipated the mist, as if in the eye of a hurricane. She was in the middle of a tunnel of clear.

She swallowed. Terror or beauty? With all the courage she could muster, she lifted her face.

Bettina didn’t find attackers; she saw . . . a scene from dreams.

“Vampire, you’re going to want to see—”

He was already at her side.

Above them, the nearly full moon was a silvery coin. Fireflies as big as Bettina’s hand hovered in the sky, glowing gold, leaving tracers of light. Fluorescent crimson petals spun in the gentle vortex, twinkling red lights. Glossy leaves swirled down leisurely, moonlight striking their surface. . . .

I made it here, and I was rewarded. What other rewards had she missed out on?

She felt something shifting inside her chest.

Was she ready to traipse around town by herself? Not quite. Was she healed from her fear? Uh-uh. But right now, she felt none.

And she knew she’d turned the corner toward recovering.

Daciano didn’t say anything for long moments, just seemed to marvel at the sight above them. Never looking down, he reached for her hand again, clasping it in his. “You’re lifting a film from my eyes, Bett. I never want to go back to the way I was before.”

She stopped looking at the sky, turning her attention to something just as remarkable—the vampire’s face tipped up to the moon.

So handsome she nearly lost her breath.

His eyes were heavy-lidded as he admired the scene, as if he was experiencing bliss.

Dear gods, that’s how he looks at me.

Sensing her gaze on him, he turned to stare down at her—and sure enough, his expression didn’t change.

Dalit. Again that word entered her consciousness. Lightning. In quaint old Demonish, it also meant the bolt of desire one felt—before falling in love.

Could she leave behind her feelings for Caspion and allow new ones to grow for this gorgeous, patient, brave vampire?

Words tumbled from her lips: “What would you do if I died? If I was . . . murdered?”

His brows drew together. “I don’t want to speak of that.”

“You said you’d answer any question.”

His hand squeezed hers. “Avenge you.” He pinned her gaze with his own. “Follow you.”

Her lips parted in amazement just as sultry rain began to fall.