Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(24)

“It makes sense that she would prefer Caspion,” Viktor said in a thoughtful tone. “Apparently, he is irresistible to females—and not a few males. There’s a reason Cousin Mirceo petitioned for him to enter Dacia. Alas, the demon is much better-looking than you are, old man.”

Trehan scowled. “I’m barely older than you are.”

“You said your Bride was young. She likely doesn’t know her mind yet. Her feelings for Caspion could be nothing more than a schoolgirl infatuation with a dashing demon.”

Bettina was woefully young, and she’d obviously been overprotected. Perhaps she simply hadn’t been around other males? She might have bonded with the one given most access to her.

Or was this only wishful thinking? He knew his looks didn’t compare to the demon’s—admittedly Caspion was . . . without flaw—but Trehan had other laudable qualities.

I’m a good killer. A talented scholar. Fuck. How could she possibly resist?

Then why has fate chosen her for me?

Bettina, Princess of Abaddon, was the only female in existence—and in all times past and future—who’d proved to be his Bride. . . .

He reminded himself that she had responded to him. She’d inhaled deeply of his skin, moaning in reaction. She’d moistened her bloodred lips as she’d investigated him with her soft fingertips. She’d murmured in a throaty voice, “My gods, I love your body.”

She’d delighted in touching me.

If he could seduce her into a similar situation, he could make her realize who’d awakened those feelings in her.

He had to believe that, given the chance, he could make her desire him again.

But that was the crux of this all: the mere chance would cost him dearly. His house would perish forever, his duty—and honor—with it. Competing in that tournament will cost me everything.

“You’ve obviously got it bad, old man,” Viktor said. “The girl burned a hole in your brain, did she?”

Trehan recalled how she’d looked in the throes of passion—her shimmering eyes pleading for more of his touch—and muttered, “A fiery arrow through the f*cking temple.” She’d quivered against his hand, so close to coming for him. . . .

“What are you going to do?”

“What any logical male would.”

Viktor raised brows. “Then I am at a loss. Enlighten me.”

Trehan said, “I’m going to gather more information about her before rendering a decision.”





Morgana would arrive in minutes, yet Bettina sat in her cooling bathwater in a daze, unable to muster any outrage that Salem had been watching her bathe again.

Her interaction with the vampire had left her feeling battered—not to mention Caspion’s confession this morning.

When she’d all but begged him to make love to her, he’d said, “You’re my best friend, and I love you like a sister. Tina, it wouldn’t feel right. And after the night I’ve, uh, spent, I don’t even know if I . . . can.”

While she’d rocked on her feet as if slapped, Salem had sneered, “But pile-driving a hooker for hours felt right? Maybe the manwhore’s all whored out? Maybe wittle Cas can’t rise to the occasion?”

Caspion’s flushed cheeks had confirmed Salem’s jab.

If she’d ever needed a wake-up call . . . Cas felt no physical attraction to her. Period. Why was she forcing this with him?

But every time she wondered when she’d become that girl—the one chasing after a guy who would never love her—she’d recall all their years together.

When she’d been orphaned after her father’s death, she’d gone from crying herself to sleep, feeling completely alone—with not a friend in the world—to waking up each morning filled with anticipation of seeing Cas’s smiling face.

He’d been a lifeline.

Whenever she berated herself for holding on to false hopes, she remembered his reaction when he’d first seen her injuries. With his eyes watering, he’d barked orders to get her help, urging, “Stay with me, Tina.” When they’d started to set her bones, no demon tonic would put her under. He’d roared as she’d screamed.

Later she had heard that he’d destroyed his home, blaming himself for not protecting her, bellowing with frustration. Was that the reaction of a big brother? She hadn’t thought so. Of course, she had no siblings for comparison.

For sixty nights, he’d tried to avenge her, but failed. No one could avenge her. . . .

Now, as the sun began setting, her nervousness ratcheted up. The vampire might return for Caspion soon; the tournament was definitely about to begin.

No more stalling. She stepped from the large pool in her bathing chamber. This room was as medieval as everything else in Abaddon, but through miraculous feats of engineering—and the work of behind-the-scene ogres—she had managed to score hot, running water all the way up in her spire.

Tossing on a robe, she asked Salem, “Got an eyeful again, didn’t you?” Life with a sylph roomie—her resident peeping phanTom—had drilled out much of her modesty.

“Of course,” Salem answered from the foggy mirror above her sink. “How do you always know?”

Bettina’s five senses might be humanlike, but her sixth sense was strong. Well, except when she was tanked on demon brew. And besides . . . “I know, because you always do it.”