Shadow's Seduction (The Dacians #2)(10)

In a menacing tone, Caspion told the giant, “I know your type. Though you’ve got no hope of getting laid, you need to assert your dominance. You need to yell, to heave your breaths, to feel anything. But this fight will not give you what you seek.”

The stone demon’s brows drew together. Seeming to see reason, he held up his free hand and backed away.

Sounds of disappointment rippled through the tavern.

Caspion turned to the female— The giant tossed his tankard, soaking Caspion’s chest in cheap brew, then he tensed for a fight.

Caspion still attacked, his fist flashing out with uncanny speed. It connected with the giant’s jaw.

Mirceo’s lips parted when that demon’s face fractured like stone.

The giant collapsed to his back—unconscious and broken. His companions cast shocked looks at Caspion, then scattered like rats.

Glorious male! Caspion’s damp shirt clung to his flexing muscles, his eyes gone black with ferocity.

Look at me, demon. Surely Mirceo’s heart would start once he met gazes with such a warrior!

Though Caspion had won the fight, even more tension stole over him as he turned toward Mirceo. His tousled hair tumbled over one of his eyes, and he impatiently raked it back. Their eyes met. . . .

Nothing.

Mirceo’s dormant heart sank.





SEVEN


Cas had scented Mirceo just as that stone demon hit the floor.

After so long, the mere sight of his former friend sent Cas reeling.

The vampire stood in the middle of the tavern, his bearing an equal mix of arrogance and elegance. He wore leather breeches and a trench coat—with no shirt. Only a prince like Mirceo could pull off that look. Among the rabble here, he looked like an angel, too perfect to be real.

A fallen angel; as he ogled Cas, Mirceo rubbed his tongue over one fang.

Cas had wondered if their . . . encounter would cool Mirceo’s attraction or make it burn even hotter. The vampire’s smoldering expression left no doubt in his mind.

Even after all this time, that look affected Cas. He could kill this smirking prince for what he’d done. For what he was still doing. Mirceo’s needy moans and abandoned words from that last night in Dacia forever rang in Cas’s ears: I’ve dreamed about this, beautiful. Ride me! Use me, demon. Use me to come.

Gritting his demon fangs, Cas strode through the tavern toward the exit, beings darting out of his way. He passed the vampire without another look, then shoved open the door, taking it off the hinges.

Outside, he crossed to a rickety fence that edged a viewing platform. In the valley below was the portal to the Plane of Lost Years, a.k.a. Poly. The large rift between dimensions shimmered with welcome, giving no hint of the hellhole that lay beyond—sweltering during the day, bone-chilling at night, and rife with violence.

As he watched, Loreans stepped through the portal to the other side. Gods help you all.

Sucking in the cold night air, Cas struggled to control his thundering heart. He caught the scent of sandalwood just before he heard a raspy voice: “You won’t spare a word for your friend?”

Cas’s shoulders tensed. Friend? More like betrayer. He’d believed Mirceo would intercede with his uncle. Instead, the spoiled prince must’ve told the assassin how to find Cas.

Trehan had descended upon Abaddon the same night Cas had fled Dacia.

Mirceo joined him at the fence, gazing out over the portal. “I can’t believe you fractured a stone demon. I always loved to watch you fight—when I wasn’t battling by your side—but what you just did was spectacular.”

Before the fight, Cas had been lost in thought, wondering why he felt no satisfaction with his life. He’d had coin in his pocket, a drink in hand, and a buxom brunette ready to go back to his lodgings here at the outpost. Life was good.

So why wouldn’t this emptiness in his chest ease?

The female had been just his type—a comely demoness with generous curves and a submissive disposition, who’d be all too happy to let him dominate her. Yet Cas had felt zero anticipation for what he’d thought to experience.

Life was good indeed—he’d worked his ass off to change his entire existence—so when would it feel good?

Maybe when he’d reclaimed the honor he’d lost in the Iron Ring? Cas turned to Mirceo. “How did you find me here?”

“I heard you were heading to the Plane of Lost Years—for some kind of self-inflicted punishment—and figured you’d stop at this outpost for a last lay.”

You’re a little late, prince. Cas had already been there for centuries, now returned. As a death demon, he derived strength from his every kill, and he’d made thousands on Poly; at last he was ready to fight Trehan again. Cas had simply needed a way to send a challenge to Dacia.

Which meant Mirceo’s presence might actually be a boon.

“I was right as usual,” the vampire continued. “I’m well aware of your immense sexual appetites, because I enjoyed them.”

Cas shook his head. “You watched me with females.”

“We watched each other. And then there was the night of our kiss.”

That night had fucked Cas up for ages! He had never desired another male before or since Mirceo. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

“Testing a theory.” The vampire’s gaze rose. “Look at your gorgeous horns, Caspion.”