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

Finish line . . . so close.

“Soon. But I’ve had a sample of your taste, drag? mea, maddening me. First I feast. . . .”

That did not sound like Cas—

But his warm breaths over her navel felt so good, made her shake with eagerness. “C-Cas?”

The male tensed, cursing in a language she’d never heard. “What did you say?” He rose up above her and pinched her chin hard.

She began to sober up as panic raced through her. “You’re not Caspion!” she cried, shoving at his chest.

Red flags had arisen before, but she’d been a slave to her senses, to the pleasure radiating outward from his every kiss, his every stroke. She’d assured herself that his voice was desire-roughened or that she was simply drunk.

“Caspion?” he grated. “So that is the way of it? You believed I was another when you gave yourself so freely!” He captured her wrists in one fist.

“Release me!” she ordered as she fought to get free. “Who are you?” She couldn’t see, but she could feel tension rolling off him, could hear the rage in his voice. Violence would follow.

Just like before.

Confusion rocked her, that familiar terror arising. She’d learned all too well how vulnerable her body was to attack!

Why does this keep happening to me? Tears welled. She whispered, “N-not again.” But he wasn’t listening.

Between gritted teeth, he said, “I am Prince Trehan Cristian Daciano. And you are my woman.” Pinning her arms above her head, he vowed, “After tonight, little Bride, you will never mistake me for another again. . . .”



Raw instinct burned inside Trehan, aggression overwhelming him. The need to mark his mate grew irresistible, not necessarily for blood but for dominion.

For possession. She’s mine.

Biting simply wasn’t done—but his control faltered. Goaded over the edge by jealousy, he knew he would answer the call.

She wants another. My female craves another male in her bed.

“Bride? V-vampire?” she cried, fighting his hold on her wrists. “Wait, wait!”

He spied her pulse fluttering in her neck. His fangs sharpened to tap that spot—never had they been beyond his control, never had they throbbed to pierce flesh. No vampire could resist this temptation.

But a Dacian would be expected to.

Compared to his hunger, that thought was too dim to be heeded. He leaned down, parting his lips to lick her neck, instinctively preparing her for his bite. Just below her collar, soft, pink skin beckoned him. “I feel your pulse against my tongue. Ah, your flesh . . . it tastes so sweet.”

If her skin tasted like this, her blood would be like heaven. Hot, rich, heaven sliding down his throat.

Over. His restraint gone—

“Don’t bite me!” she pleaded. “Don’t hurt me!”

Hurt her? “I don’t want to hurt you . . . I can’t stop this.”

“P-please don’t.”

You’re going to f*cking bite her? Like some savage vampire? You’re a godsdamned Dacian! “If you’ve any defenses, sorceress . . . use them . . . against me now! Stop me.”

He heard a sob, felt moisture on her face. Tears? She was crying?

Her small body trembled against him as she whispered, “I-I can’t s-stop you.”

The idea of her in such distress cut through his frenzy. Somehow he forced himself to draw back, to not plunge his dripping fangs into her.

Behind her mask, her glinting eyes darted. Darted blindly? He waved his hand in front of her face. Nothing.

Then he remembered—Sorceri senses were nearly as diminished as a mortal’s.

Reason whispered, Your little Bride is terrified, can’t see in the dark, has no idea who’s in her bed.

Instinct screamed, Mark her! So another male can’t take what’s yours!

With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he released her, surrendering his prize.

She jerked upright, scrambling across the bed from him, snatching the bedspread to her chest, eyes still darting.

She hadn’t been able to see Trehan whatsoever. She truly had believed that he was Caspion.

So what will she think of me when she gazes upon me for the first time? Perhaps he oughtn’t to be kneeling there, bare-chested, with his spend drying in his pants, for her initial impression. He rose, yanking on his coat and slinging his sword around his hips. His tattered shirt was ruined beyond use.

“Wh-why would you do this to me?” she whispered, her mask askew. “I don’t know you.” She dropped her face into her hands.

It was everything he could do not to touch her, to comfort her. But I’m the one she fears. . . .

He’d frightened his Bride. Because I’m not Caspion. Yet another reason to kill him.

How excited Trehan had been to find her, how optimistic—but it’d all been an illusion, her sensual responses meant for another.

Each of the things he’d so enjoyed with her was now tainted. When she’d stroked Trehan’s shaft to come, she’d believed it was that demon’s. When she’d whispered, “You know you can do anything to me. I’m yours—I always will be. . . .”

The thought sent his anger skyrocketing once more, his fangs sharpening again. Trehan wanted her to tell him those same charged words, whispering them in his ear.