Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(127)

He bared his fangs as he roared to the ceiling, “Bettina!” Muscles wracked, he thrashed atop her . . . again and again, filling her with copious heat. “You were made . . . for me alone. A mea, eternitate!”

Another frenzied thrust . . . and another . . .

With a final dazed groan, he collapsed over her, mouth back at her neck to kiss the bite, as if in thanks. When his hoarse exhalations fanned over his mark, she shivered anew, her lips curling. “Could you feel me, Trehan?”

“Ah, love, I could feel you very well,” he said, easing to his back, with her enfolded in his arms. “And you liked my bite.” Could he possibly sound any prouder?

“You know I did. So, is bite play something we can do daily? Or more like, hourly?”

“I love your questions, Bett.”

She raised her head, laying her elbows across his still heaving chest and surveyed her vampire. The change in him was immediate—and profound.

She noted the color tingeing his high cheekbones, the swelling of his muscles as her lifeblood became his, the clearness of his eyes.

Green like Abaddon’s forest.

And when he smiled at her, with his black hair tousled over his forehead and his eyes dancing, he took her breath. That grinding tension . . . had disappeared.

He brushed a braid from her cheek. Sounding very much like a well-pleasured male, he rasped, “I love you, drag? mea.”

“I love you too.” She sighed like a sap, knowing she was gazing at him with a dreamy expression. “Bad.”

He cast her a double-take, then his grin deepened. Satisfaction rolling off him in waves, he held up his warrior’s hand to view his ring. “Will any spikes pop out of this, I wonder.”

“Only if you try to take it off.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest. “No chance of that. I’d get you a ring as well, but I’d never find one equal to what you can create.”

“If you wear my ring, I’ll wear your bite.”

He brushed her hair from her neck. “Already it fades.”

“I guess you’ll just have to give me another one.” She felt his shaft pulse at her words.

“Delightedly,” he said in a husky tone. “But first, I meant what I said, Bett. I want to wed you as soon as possible. Today.”

“Okay! It counts as two boons. . . .” Yet then her excitement dimmed somewhat.

“What is it?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Do you recall the woman who was with me in the bar? She’s my patroness, Sabine. She’s been searching for you.” At his quizzical glance, Bettina said, “Her sister has been taken by Vrekeners, and she’s very interested to learn how you reached Skye Hall.”

“I see. Do you want me to help her find her sister?”

“I . . . maybe? In any event, I feel like I should warn you—the more I look at my life, the more complicated it seems. Are you sure you want to sign on?”

Looking very fierce, he grated, “Try and stop me, Bett.” He drew her down against him, her cheek resting against his strong heart.

He squeezed her tighter with a brawny, possessive arm, nuzzling her hair.

“I’m serious, vampire,” she said, tracing nervous patterns over his skin. “Can you handle my assembled ragtag family, a snarky peeping phanTom, life among deathly demons, and potentially a hell-plane intervention for a friend? Oh, and possibly leaving within the hour to plot a Sorceri rescue?”

She felt Daciano grin against her hair and knew what he was about to say. And she knew she’d believe him.

“Yes,” her vampire said simply. “My love, yes.”





And now, an exclusive sneak peek at Kresley Cole’s

POISON PRINCESS

Book 1 in the Arcana Chronicles Series Post-apocalyptic tales filled with riveting action, dark mysticism, and breathtaking romance . . . .

*

The characters on Tarot cards are real.

The Huntress, the Fool, Death, the Lovers . . . and eighteen other Major Arcana all exist. These warriors, femme fatales, magicians, and devils each have uniquely lethal powers.

And they’re coming for me.

To survive, I’ll have to embrace my own terrifying abilities—and team up with dangerously handsome Jack Deveaux, one of the few people I know that also survived the Flash. But if Jack ever beholds what I truly am, will he abandon me to my fate . . . ?

*





Day 235 A.F.

Deeper in Mississippi

“Do you need to slow down?” Jackson yelled over the winds.

I shook my head, wanting to continue on. We’d left my home almost two weeks ago; I was beginning to fear we’d never get out of this state.

Bandannas over our faces and sunglasses in place, we meandered through another deserted town, with a windstorm whipping around us—and tremors beneath our feet.

Lucky for us, the storms had become more sporadic and shorter, lasting just an hour or two a day. A blessing, since we remained carless.

Even if Jackson could fix a vehicle, the tank would be empty.

On foot, we’d started seeing gaunt-cheeked survivors every now and then, peeking out from behind barricaded windows. Much to Jackson’s annoyance, I always gave them a tentative wave. But none of them had wanted anything to do with us.

“You stay right behind me,” he said now, pressing on. He would always walk first, blocking the wind for me, insisting I draft behind him.