Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(63)

Then she noticed the snake’s tail was elongating, creeping up behind Cas while he concentrated on deflecting sword strikes.

Just when she was about to yell, “Look out!” other spectators beat her to it. Cas tried to trace too late. The serpentine tail had already wrapped around his legs and hips, holding him in place. He fought to hack his way free, but the snake’s sword warded off each blow.

All the while its tail coiled higher and higher around Cas’s torso, constricting, weakening him.

Bettina watched in disbelief as the Cerunno clamped its own arms around Cas’s, crushing his body until Cas’s beautiful face flushed with blood, veins bulging in his temples.

“Ah, gods, no. Raum, do something!”

Cas slumped, his arms going limp. His sword clattered to the ground.

“No. No. No! Raum!”

“I’m so sorry, Tina.” He laid his hand over Bettina’s. “Look away, m’girl.”

Powerless, she could do nothing but watch as Caspion was crushed in that hideous creature’s grip. “No. This can’t be happening!” What I wouldn’t give for my power!

To Raum, Daciano grated, “You give him too little credit, demon.”

Bettina clung to the vampire’s words. He was the expert, he would know if Cas was doomed—

Like a shot, Cas twisted his head, raking one sharpened horn across the Cerunno’s throat. Blood spurted from its severed jugular.

Forced to stanch the flow, the Cerunno eased its grip enough for Cas to trace to his sword. With a roar, Cas swung.

The Cerunno’s head hurtled high across the ring. The shocked crowd erupted into cheers.

Bettina sagged, her eyes watering.

Raum gave a bellow of relief and joined the cheering, not even attempting to appear unbiased.

As Cas caught his breath, he managed a grin, eventually recovering enough to raise his mottled arms over his head and egg the spectators on. He was loving the attention so much that she couldn’t prevent her lips from curling.

Her glorious Cas. She was so proud of his victory, happy that he was happy.

Daciano broke the spell. “Bettina, there is a limit.”

Without looking at him, she asked, “What does that mean?”

He took her hand, smoothly returning her panties. “One day you’ll convince me that you’ll always want him.” Just before he traced away, he murmured in her ear, “Take care, lest you lose a male who’ll desire only you—and gain a male who’ll desire only others.”





Discovering more about Bettina was critical—because Trehan was failing to coax her attentions away from that f*cking demon.

He traced back to his tent, his mind focused on the task ahead: access her memories.

Which meant sleep. He was running out of time to complete all the things left for him to do. If he’d turned his back on his kingdom only to lose his Bride as well . . . ? To have neither in his life?

He would have no identity. No future. I will not be who I was.

Nor who I want to be.

Must sleep. Removing his sword, he lay back on his bed, struggling to dictate the direction of his thoughts. Do not replay how she looked coming in your hand, Trehan. For gods sakes, do not revisit the slick heat you just reveled in.

But her scent lingered on the furs, tantalizing him. Last night, her hair had fanned out over his bed as he’d rocked his shaft against her sex.

When only the hot, soaked silk of her panties had barred him entrance to her core . . .

Too much! He groaned, his shaft straining against the confines of his pants. Once he unfastened them and his length sprang free, he grunted in relief.

He took one of Bettina’s gloves and wrapped the cool silk around his aching length, pretending it was her palm gripping him. Should’ve kept her panties.

As he began to stroke, he fantasized that she told him, “You know you can do anything to me, Trehan. I’m yours—I always will be.”

Only to him would she make those promises. . . .

His fangs sharpened, dripping in his mouth for her. He dragged his tongue over them, sucking on his blood, pretending it was hers.

Like a true vampire.

Trehan had begun remembering more from his youth; as a lad, he’d stroked himself to fantasies of sinking his fangs into a trembling female while coming inside her. He recalled that particular fantasy could make him ejaculate until his back bowed.

Now he imagined piercing Bettina’s slim neck. Drawing her scorching essence into me as she writhed from her orgasm. Her sex would squeeze my cock with greedy tugs. As she gave her blood, her body would demand my seed—

When he began to spend, he yelled her name; his back bowed violently.

When he wiped himself clean and redressed, he shuddered, grieved to be parted from her.

When he drifted to sleep, he knew he’d dream of her.

My memories? Or hers?



He woke not even an hour later, straight from reverie. Though he hadn’t experienced the memory he’d sought, he’d seen something he could scarcely describe.

The world through Bettina’s eyes.

Her memories were . . . sublime. She noted details he would have missed, searching out beauty in everything from a spider’s web to a weathered basket. When he compared her way of seeing to his, he felt as if he had a layer of film over his eyes.

He was awakening. After living so long as staid, boring Trehan, he craved more.