Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(104)

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.”