Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(81)

She glanced up in surprise. “Fine. If you’d like to be bored, I’ll continue.”

Allowing him to see a new facet of her? This concession had to mean something. Maybe she was accepting him more.

She moved the weapon to the third bench, fastening it in a cushioned vise, then opened a small chest.

“Those are?”

“Precision hand tools.” The files and chisels were works of art in themselves, each with a polished ivory handle. She confidently plucked out the smallest chisel, one with a tip not much larger than a pen point.

“Do you know what you’ll engrave?”

“Scenes from her home realm,” she answered absently, clearly ready to get to her task. “Um, you’re blocking my light.”

“Just so.” He traced back, leaning against the nearest wall.

With one hand, she began wielding the chisel, sure cuts across shining gold. With the other, she smoothed away slivers, brushing her thumb over each groove.

She had total focus on her work—he doubted she registered his presence any longer. When she pulled her glossy hair over her shoulder, narrowing her sparkling gaze, he wasn’t even surprised that his heart beat wildly.

Her movements grew faster and faster. Before his eyes, patterns began to emerge over the rings, scenes in relief. On one, she etched a dragon; on another, what looked like a well. She depicted a castle on the third. Before she started the last one, she closed her eyes and ran her fingertips over each image.

Exactly as she’d imagined exploring his shaft. He swallowed hard, and furtively adjusted it now.

Along the fourth ring, she engraved a wild, spray-tossed seashore. When she puckered her lips to blow away any trace shavings, he just stifled a groan.

One day soon, he’d take her on this bench, with her eyes alight. Yet another reason to survive tomorrow.

She tilted her head, surveying her work, a stray tweak here, a deepened groove there. “I’m done,” she said, returning the chisel to its box.

As she exhaled, rolling her head on her shoulders, he gazed from the work to her, and back to the work. So much talent! How long had it been since he’d looked at something with awe?

The better part of a millennium. “Try it on,” he said, his voice gone husky.

With a shrug, she donned it. The raised etchings seemed to come alive with each movement of her hand. One press of her thumb and a vicious-looking sneak blade shot from the bottom. Another press, and the blade slipped back inside.

When she removed the piece, placing it in its cradle, more pride shone from her eyes. She turned to him. “So, we have a lot to talk about—”

He’d already traced to her, cupping her face. “I’ll die if I don’t kiss you right now.”



Bettina gasped when his mouth met hers, her hands shooting to his chest to push him away. But his lips were so deliciously firm, and his immediate groan made her shiver.

With excitement?

How could she be excited when she still felt raw inside? Why was that empty feeling fading as he deepened his kiss?

Enjoy this, her mind whispered. Tonight’s your last chance. Yes, to enjoy those smoldering looks, those strong arms around her, holding her secure against him. That connection . . .

When he lifted her to the bench and wedged his hips between her legs, she grasped his shoulders, delighted by the way they flexed under her palms.

His hands closed over her waist, his thumbs stroking just beneath her breasts. Her thoughts seemed to be scattering, leaving room only to register feeling.

Sensation, pleasure. Yes, let him seduce you again.

Seduce. She’d been warned of this. Just like everyone else, he was taking advantage of her. Again.

I am so na?ve. Even as he kissed her, tears welled in her eyes.

When they spilled over, he froze, then drew his head back. His voice grew rough. “What is this, drag??” As his gaze searched her expression, he grazed his knuckles across a line of tears.

“They told me you’d try to seduce me.”

He straightened. “I’m not trying to seduce you.”

She blinked. “Don’t you want to . . . you aren’t . . . oh, never mind.”

“Want to?” He gently cradled her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, over her tears. “I think about taking you to bed constantly, Bett. But I will never claim you completely, not until I defeat Goürlav. I wouldn’t risk even the slightest chance that you’d be vulnerable to the primordial. Once I leave you this eve, you’ll be a virgin still.” When two more tears tracked down her now heated cheeks, he rasped, “Why are you crying?”

“Why not?” She dashed the back of her hand over her eyes. “Everything in my life is wrong. I’ve quarreled with my guardians. I’ve quarreled with Caspion for the first time—”

“Always that demon!” His hands dropped to his sides.

“And apparently, I’m quarreling with you now! I should be railing at you, not kissing you. You took my memories, you’ve seen inside my head. And you knew what would happen if we kissed that night. You got me to a point where I didn’t care if your fangs were sharp. It was a calculated move on your part.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“I hate it when you do that!”

“I did want your blood—so that I could find your foes. But it was also true that I had very little control over my fangs. I’ve worked on my control ever since that night.”