Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(51)

Bettina wasn’t immune to him, and he was one step closer to seducing her. Which meant he needed to deny instinct once more, and use his mind to win her. Remember the plan!

Again, easier said . . .

Even now her dainty hands glided over his collarbone, her graceful arms lightly draping over his shoulders.

Even now her breaths fanned over his damp ear. Each exhalation made his cock jerk hungrily beneath the water.

His Bride was teaching him much about himself this eve, awakening him even more. He’d never known how sensitive his ears were. Or his shoulders. Or the back of his neck. . . .

When she’d begun kneading his muscles, he realized his plan had worked all too well. She was lost to sensation.

A sensual little sorceress. His Bride was o comoara. A treasure.

Comoara mea. My treasure.

Was she leaning forward to get a look at his shaft? She’d felt it; now she must want to see it. Though he wasn’t often the subject of scrutiny, he was about to be.

Zeii, I want to show it to her. The idea aroused him unbearably; his hips began to rock. Would his be the first one she’d seen hard? Definitely the last one.

Should he take himself in hand and present it . . . ? The notion faded when she rubbed her palms lower than before.

This had been his plan. His seduction. Now he could barely think. Was my chest always this sensitive—

She grazed his nipples; he hissed, bowing his back for more, clenching his fists on the sides of the tub.

When his fingers dug furrows into the groaning iron, she went still.

He’d frightened her, ruining this—

She grazed them again.

“Bettina!” he roared, bucking his hips uncontrollably. For a brief second, cool air met his upthrust cock.

She gasped at his ear, making him shudder. She’d seen a glimpse. How would she react? What would she do next?

She leaned in closer, until the side of her face was touching his. Her lovely unmasked face. Skin to skin. Panting, she eased forward even more. When the corners of their lips were flush, his parted in surprise.

Though it was torture, he went motionless. What will she do next?

He held his breath. His cock pained him as never before. His body began to quake—

Then came one sly dart of her little tongue . . . the lightest dab at the edge of his mouth, just inside his parted lips.

Thought fled.

With a roar, he traced to his feet to seize his prize.



The vampire’s hands shot out for her.

“Wait!” Bettina cried as she tumbled from her knees to one hip.

He froze. Gradually, he straightened. Between ragged breaths, he said, “I’d never hurt you, Bett. Never.”

She frowned up at him. That thought hadn’t crossed her mind. If she’d feared him, then she wouldn’t have been trying to tease him to distraction—so he’d thrust his hips and show her his erection again.

Her one fleeting glimpse as it’d breached the surface of the water left her beset with curiosity. With desire.

In lieu of thrusting, his standing completely naked in front of her worked too.

Oh, my gold, how this works.

He must’ve realized she had no fear of him because he put his shoulders back, must’ve realized that she’d craved this view because he lifted his chin.

“You want to see your male?” he grated, masculine pride suffusing his tone.

“My male?” A male. This male . . .

I’m staring up at a naked, fully aroused vampire. Blooded and in his prime.

She felt giddy, as drunk as she’d been during their first encounter. The sight of him like this not only aroused her, it delighted her.

The fire was to his right, illuminating his glistening skin, shadows and light at play. Under her gaze, every sinew of muscle contracted, rippling. Water streams licked over every mighty rise, over every rigid fall.

Drops sluiced down his chest to his navel, meeting at that dusky trail of hair leading down, down.

When her gaze followed, he said in a gravelly voice, “This is what you do to me, Bett.” His accent was thicker than she’d ever heard it.

She was transfixed by his erection—again, giddy. Her peek had been just the tip of the iceberg. So to speak. At the thought, a laugh escaped her.

Which made him scowl and cross his arms.

Had she actually tried to convince herself that she would view him as a subject of study?

Uh-huh. For my art.

She couldn’t even think that with a straight face.

“Strange little sorceress,” he suddenly murmured in a wondering tone. “You’re . . . happy.”

She gave an absent nod and began lovingly taking in every detail of his manhood.

Crisp black hair circled the base. Just below it, his heavy sac tightened before her eyes. The shaft was veined, the skin so taut. The engorged head strained toward her, as if toward her parted lips.

What would it be like to feel that firm crown at her mouth, like a plum warmed in the sun? She grazed her fingertips over her lips as she imagined it. Would the vampire shudder and groan if she pressed her tongue against him there?

“Ah, Bettina, your eyes go light,” he rasped. “Have you looked your fill?” Were his legs quaking?

My fill? No. Not at all.

Planes, textures, colors? Proportion! His body taken all together was a tableau of perfection—a masterpiece she needed to appreciate more fully.