Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(112)

Trehan held her gaze, scorned her tears, withstood the blistering pain in his chest.

In his heart.

Somehow she had her sorcery back. And she was using it against him. Her male. Her f*cking male!

Her gaze was uncanny. Those bright pinpoints that sparked in her eyes were now tinged amber. Her hands glowed with more amber light.

The sound of his heartbeat dimmed. A thousand years ago, his heart had stopped. But now—because of her—he needed it to live.

Only seconds remain before my other organs follow.

A fresh wave of torment erupted inside him. Must escape her hold.

“You’ve gotten what you’ve always wanted, sorceress,” he grated. “Now live with your regret!”

With the last of his strength, he traced back to his tent, out of her power’s range. At once, the pain faded. His heartbeat resumed, his body recovering. But his mind . . .

Chaos!

She’d cried for the one she truly loved; she’d stopped Trehan’s newly beating heart. Nothing could be more telling. And she’d done far worse before that.

He lunged for the goblet she’d handed him, scenting it.

Poisoned. Here, Trehan. Drink. So guileless, so lovely.

Such treachery!

Like a flash, he recalled the night he’d sat with her on the grandstand. When he’d asked Bettina if she’d planned to poison anyone, she’d looked him dead in the eye and answered, “One leech is making the short list.”

How prophetic. With a deranged roar, he crushed the goblet. She and Caspion had played him.

And now Trehan had nothing! As he stabbed his sword into its scabbard, he remembered how his father had counseled him to accept his lot.

But with Bettina, Trehan had thought he’d found his family, friend, mistress, the grand love of his life.

Gone.

“Be an example, Son.” All these ages later, Trehan had failed utterly. “I have nothing!”

Nowhere even to f*cking go.

“NOTHING!” he roared, tearing at his bloodstained hair. I want her, hate her. Go kill the demon. Can’t.

In the ring, Trehan had realized that his vows bound him; like a fool he’d told Bettina that both he and Caspion would survive. Can’t kill . . .

“Trehan!” Viktor appeared in the tent, with Mirceo and Stelian behind him.

Maddened with rage, with loss, Trehan swung around, hungering to fight, didn’t matter against who.

Mirceo raised his brows at Trehan’s appearance. “Our apologies for the interruption, Uncle. Your wedding night will have to wait—”

“What do you three want now?” Trehan thundered. There is no f*cking wedding night! His prize, forever gone. “Gods damn it, I thought you were done with me! Why’ve you returned?”

Stelian said, “He’s as frothing at the mouth as you usually are, Viktor. You must field this one.”

“Give me credit,” Viktor snapped. “I’ve been doing much better.” To Trehan, he said, “What the hell has happened to you?”

“I won; I f*cking lost everything!” he spat the words. “I am not who I was!”

“What does that mean, Trey? There’s no way you lost the tournament to Caspion.”

“I defeated him. I won, but I lost the prize!” Trehan clasped his forehead, squeezing until his skull threatened to shatter. “Tell me what you’re doing here or leave!”

“You need to calm yourself, Cousin.”

His head whipped up. “Fucking leave!”

“I’ll tell you then,” Mirceo said. “The situation with Lothaire has reached a crisis. He’s been attacked, nearly decapitated. We can’t breach his apartment because of his barrier spell, and his Bride is missing. We must locate her.”

Trehan gave a crazed laugh. “Must you, then?”

Stelian said, “Yet again, there’s a catch.”

All three hesitated before Viktor said, “Elizabeth was likely the one who brandished the sword.”

Lothaire’s Bride had struck out against him? I feel your pain, brother. “I will help him,” Trehan finally bit out. “I will do my godsdamned duty to Dacia!” He leveled his gaze on each of them. “But I want back in. . . .”





WEEKS LATER

We’ve come full circle, haven’t we?” Caspion said quietly. He and Bettina had taken their drinks out on the balcony, just as they had the night before the tournament had started.

From here, they could see the tops of the giant trees. Bats jagged in front of the waxing moon. But tonight the scene wasn’t romantic. Instead it was somber.

Seeing those moonraker trees reminded her of the folly she’d shared with Daciano, of perfect acceptance and pleasure. He’d been the ideal male for her. Until suddenly, he wasn’t.

Still, she missed that vampire—with his eyes like the forest, eyes that could turn onyx with desire.

Or with rage.

Now that she’d known true love—hurting, raw, stunning, spectacular love—Bettina wondered how she’d ever thought Cas was the one for her. . . .

She drank deep from her goblet of wine. “It might not feel like it, but I’ve got to believe we’re better off than we were then. Even though we’re both heartsore.”

“Better off?” Cas said. “I suppose. That night before the tournament, I was convinced I was about to die, and you were convinced you were about to wed a Cerunno.” He faced her, his handsome face grave. “But, Tina, things are bad for me here now.”