Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(70)

“Of course I’m not jealous.” I might be jealous.

“He looks at you as if you’re a virgin vein. There’s much to be said for obsessive hunger.” Morgana patted her hand knowingly. “Solid partnerships have been built on less. Did I mention that I spoke with him the other night while he awaited his bout?”

“You did what?” Questions about the raven-haired spectator disappeared.

“I told him, ‘You must be a Forbearer.’ He merely said, ‘Must I?’ then turned away. That dripping disdain—so sexy!”

Morgana had no idea how sexy that vampire was. I do. Because he was mine for three brief encounters.

“I decided I wanted his tongue on me; I couldn’t decide if I wanted it still attached to his mouth or not. So I held off. Now I’m glad I did, since you’re so possessive of him.”

“I’m not possessive.” Morgana together with Daciano? The idea made her want to screech.

“And there go your eyes once more. Raum has shown favoritism at every turn, gunning for a demon king. It would serve him right if you wed a vampire.” With a chuckle, she turned to leave.

But at the doorway, she gazed back with a thoughtful look on her face, offering Bettina cryptic wisdom: “Remember, freakling, the greatest thing about having power is the mere having of power. Use the latter well, and you’ll never have to use the former.”





Just hours ago, Trehan had been in his tent, sharpening his gleaming sword, grappling with a fury so strong it scalded him inside.

Now he sat at his desk, cleaning his well-bloodied sword, face spattered with gore—and still struggling to rein in his overwhelming rage.

I’m backsliding.

But didn’t the term backsliding indicate that he’d reached this level of fury before? He’d never known it as he had on this day.

After wading through Bettina’s memories, he’d finally seen things he couldn’t unsee. I did things I’d never undo.

He peered at the burlap bag at his feet and the plain black staff beside it. Think of something else, he told himself. The tournament began in minutes. Change the direction of your musings.

What else was there to think of besides Bettina? What else . . . ?

Ah, Dacia. My former home.

Would the Realm of Blood and Mist soon have a new king?

After days of tracking Lothaire all over the world and spying on the vampire’s luxurious York penthouse, the cousins had learned much about their potential ruler—and his Bride.

Indeed, there’s a catch. Lothaire’s female was Elizabeth Peirce, a human “mountain girl” peasant. She was pretty for a mortal, with long dark hair and an intelligent gaze.

But humans perished so easily.

Unfortunately, transforming her into a vampire would be nigh impossible. Females rarely survived the transition, and never with Horde blood, polluted and dark as it was.

Lothaire was indeed on some kind of mission; Trehan would bet his soul that the Enemy of Old sought some way to make his Bride undying.

Lothaire’s mission—combined with his madness—had made for some precarious episodes. To ensure his and Elizabeth’s safety, the cousins had been forced to secretly intercede—up until the time when secrecy had no longer been possible.

The Enemy of Old now knew they were tracking him. . . .

But with each day, the vampire was healing under his female’s influence. At times, he’d proved as calculating as any Dacian.

Pros: Lothaire was more powerful than any other vampire and would make a mighty regent. Cons: He remained bloodthirsty—in all senses of the term.

Still, Mirceo had already voted to install Lothaire. “A red-eyed king who bites others with impunity? My ballot reads: yes,” Mirceo had said with a wink, shocking the older three cousins.

Trehan had scowled at him. “Biting isn’t . . . Dacians simply don’t bite others,” he’d said, sounding prudish and old, even to himself. “Keeping our blood untainted is what separates us from the Horde.”

“Really, Uncle? You know mated Dacians must taste each other’s blood. Even if no one speaks of it. Perhaps with such a king as Lothaire, bloodtaking will be taboo no more?”

“Exchanging blood could happen accidentally,” Stelian had pointed out, “but a bite is consciously done. We’re above such needs.”

Apparently not me. Maybe Trehan had Horde blood in his ancestry . . . ?

Viktor was on the fence about installing Lothaire, saying, “He’s much worse than I’d thought. The only way I’d agree is if he figures out how to bond with his female and make her immortal. Oh, and if we withhold as much pertinent information from him as possible.” Why? “So he has reason to keep us alive.”

Stelian had grown dead set against Lothaire.

And Trehan? I am . . . ready. New ruler or not, the kingdom was no longer Trehan’s mistress. Now he was free to serve another completely, a wide-eyed halfling he would kill to possess.

To protect. Zeii mea, I want to protect her forever.

Today, at last, he had begun.



“Welcome, all, to the Morgana show!” her godmother announced to the crowd.

Bettina sighed. This is going to be a long night. She gazed around the grandstand, noting all the changes Morgana’s minions had wrought over the day.