Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(47)

“A commissioned piece.”

“You sell your work?”

She bristled. “What of it?”

“I have a niece who is obsessed with weapons. She would love to have something like this.”

“You want to commission a piece?”

“Absolutely. And then I’d insist on watching you work.”

Bettina blinked at him. “You really are interested?”

“I’m a weapons master. You create weapons. I think it’s fascinating.”

“You don’t have a problem with your Bride being in trade? It’s not exactly decorous. I thought an old-fashioned vampire like you would want me to quit.”

“Though I’ll be loath to let you out of our bed for any reason, I’d never try to restrict something you enjoy.”

Another fitful adjustment of her mask. Let me out of bed?

“And as for the trade stigma, I’ve lived my life obeying the rules, enforcing the rules. I cast off that rigid existence to be with you. Perhaps the beauty of being a queen is that you get to do whatever you like.”

“I’m not na?ve.” I might be na?ve. “I know that’s not how the world works.”

“Then change the world.”

The world? She could barely change the subject.

“For now, let’s discuss this commission,” he said.

“How would you even get the gift to your niece?”

“Not easily. She never leaves the kingdom, so I’d have to send it through another one of my family. I’m not shunned by them all. Well, not exactly. Let’s just say that I suspect I haven’t seen the last of the Dacianos.” There seemed to be a wealth of emotion in that statement, but she couldn’t decipher it. Relief? Grief? “When will you finish the piece you’re working on now?”

She mumbled, “Probably sometime after I actually start it. Which should occur after I figure out what to create.”

That hint of a grin teased his lips once more.

“My patroness is very exacting, and I’ve sent her weapon after weapon. She wants something new.”

“The piece you wear now is only a few modifications from being a bagh nakh.” Brass knuckles with claws jutting out.

Now she had to grin. Not many threw that term around. “I already made her one.”

“With the spikes curling inward along the palm or jutting out over the knuckles?”

“Out.” Then she admitted, “I’ve never seen any curling in.” That would be a great twist. A lady’s indignant slap would never be the same.

“Have you ever heard of a bichawa bagh nakh?” When she shook her head, he said, “I wish I could show you. I had a collection such as you wouldn’t believe.” His dark brows knit. These reminders of what he’d given up must be sharp.

His look bothered her, and she couldn’t understand why. You made your bed, vampire.

And still she found herself saying, “Maybe you could draw one?” She crossed to the desk, rooting through drawers until she found paper and a pen.

With a nod, he traced to the seat, collecting the paper. He began to sketch the baseplate and curved claws of the basic weapon, his outline surprisingly competent. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

Outside the storm picked up, but the lazy fire gave off just enough heat. She found herself relaxing, sipping her wine as she watched the drawing take shape.

Yet she kept getting distracted by him. Her eyes flickered over his hair. It was thick and straight, reflecting firelight. Had she run her fingers through it last night?

She noted the expanse of his shoulders beneath that tailored shirt and his great height—sitting down, he was nearly as tall as she was standing up. Then her gaze lingered on his face. His masculine features formed an expression of thoughtful concentration.

His eyes really were a mesmerizing shade of green. She’d seen that color before. In the deepest forests of Abaddon.

Perhaps Morgana had been right in her assessment.

Looking at Daciano’s lips brought to mind his heated kisses last night. Whenever she’d imagined kissing Cas, she’d envisioned accompanying sighs, handholding, and laughter.

But now, with this vampire, her thoughts weren’t quite so innocent. Surely that was because she’d actually kissed Daciano. Of course her imaginings would be different; reality was intruding!

Breaking her stare, he said, “The basic model would be fine to use against a human. But for an immortal you need more tissue disruption.”

Tissue disruption. Gods, he was talking Weapon to her.

She was actually enjoying herself. She hopped up on the desk, tilting her head down to watch him work.

He paused, his gaze sliding to the slit of her skirt. She crossed her legs; he snapped the pen.

How . . . thrilling. She’d never had such an effect on males before. She could almost feel like a sorceress again, enthralling a vampire warrior.

That didn’t mean she needed to play with fire. She handed him another pen. “The drawing, Daciano.”

His broad jaw clenched, he gave a subtle nod, then continued. His fingers were dexterous. She remembered more vividly how he’d secured her breasts in his possessive grip as he’d suckled her. She remembered how those clever fingers had trailed down her torso before petting her between her legs.