Shadow's Seduction (The Dacians #2)(49)

They strolled toward the grand entrance, where liveried servants collected Mirceo’s invitation. He and Cas stepped into an enormous ballroom packed with masked immortals of all different species.

The torchlit area was a riot of colors. Decadence seemed to be the theme. Giant nude statuary lined the walls. A swimming pool had been constructed in the middle of the ballroom floor. Water nymphs frolicked in its depths, descending upon any who entered.

Scantily clad fey performed on a high wire above. A female fire-eater and a male fire-breather made an erotic duo on a spotlighted stage.

All around them revelers raised hell. In the years approaching an Accession, any party could be an immortal’s last, so they tended to make the most of them.

The dazzling displays lit up Cas’s senses. Whenever he was near the prince, everything felt intense, his emotions—and instincts—amplified.

As he and Mirceo made their way through the crowd, attendees turned to stare. The vampire’s sexual magnetism—and shirtless chest—commanded gazes from males and females alike.

Even over the din, Cas could hear their hearts speeding up as the prince passed. Many seemed to be conjecturing whether Cas and Mirceo were lovers.

When Cas caught a couple of demons scoping out Mirceo’s pale neck—checking for a claiming bite—he took Mirceo’s hand in his own, delighting the vampire. Part of him longed to whisk Mirceo away where no one could see him. Part of him needed to show off the prince, to let everyone here know who Mirceo belonged to.

Does he belong to me? The vampire had returned, despite knowing the risk: eternal monogamy. And Mirceo had made it sound as if he’d already seen Cas’s shaming memories—but they obviously hadn’t tempered his regard.

How can I fight this? The prince was too mesmerizing to resist.

Drinks flowed from a gurgling champagne fountain. Blood mead and demon brew were on tap as well. Mirceo snagged two chalices, handing one to Cas. “What should we drink to?”

“To the bottom,” Cas answered, making him grin. They finished their drinks and grabbed a couple more.

“Don’t forget: you must follow all your impulses.” Mirceo drained his cup, then reached for another one. “Now, get merry.”

He had the impulse to please Mirceo, so up went Cas’s goblet. The vampire was quick to hand him yet another.

A sinking realization set in. No matter what Cas chose to do, he was fucked. Separation from Mirceo delivered pain; nearness did the same—because at every second, he felt more and more how well Mirceo fit him. Whenever they were together, Cas comprehended what he would lose if the vampire bolted.

As he’d done on Poly, Cas would have to let go, to simply take the pain and accept his lot. For better or worse, he would claim the male as his own.

“What musings hide behind those blue eyes?” Mirceo asked.

“Thoughts of the future.”

“Hmm. Can we not enjoy the present?”

Cas adjusted his mask self-consciously. “I am trying, Mirceo.”

The vampire gazed up at him. “I know you are, love. And that means a lot to me.” His sensual lips curled, spellbinding Cas. “Come on, I’m keen to show you off. . . .”

Over the next couple of hours, Cas fell even deeper under Mirceo’s thrall. In a daze, he followed the tantalizing vampire through the party. Whatever vintage of brew Mirceo chose for Cas, he drank without hesitation. Whatever Mirceo hand-fed him, he obediently ate, sucking clean the vampire’s elegant fingers.

Mirceo continued to tease him without mercy. In front of everyone, he reached up and traced the shape of Cas’s sensitive horns. Grazing, petting, fondling them—till Cas thought his knees would buckle. “My magnificent demon,” Mirceo rasped. “I’m so hard for you.” Later, as they watched a bawdy skit, the vampire worked his hand into Cas’s front pocket, slicing the leather open with a claw. Stretching his thumb through the opening, Mirceo rubbed Cas’s frenulum till pre-cum flowed.

Each time Cas thought he could take no more, Mirceo would laugh and move on to the next sight or sensation. Maddening me!

Horns flaring obscenely, Cas warned him, “You’re playing with fire.”

Mirceo grinned. “Good, I like the burn.”

Tunnel-visioned Cas couldn’t see anything but his mate. He felt like a slavering beast chasing a butterfly.

And like a beast, Cas wanted to devour every inch of Mirceo’s body. To make love to him. As his gaze roamed along the vampire’s throat, his fangs sharpened to leave their mark.

Mirceo traced them to a deserted balcony. The voyeuristic vampire often liked to observe debauchery from a vantage point.

Guiding Cas to sit on a couch, Mirceo settled himself across his lap with casual ease, as if they’d been a couple for millennia.

Mirceo removed his mask, then untied Cas’s. Together, they drank and watched other couples kissing and stroking each other.

Mirceo said, “You keep questioning my commitment, but do you miss hunting for a partner among all these beauties?”

Cas shook his head. When a lock of Mirceo’s jet-black hair tumbled over his forehead, he reached for it, rubbing the silky texture between his thumb and forefinger. In a gruff tone, he admitted, “I have a hard time even seeing others when you’re around.” Said the beast to the butterfly.

“Good answer,” Mirceo said. “It’s difficult to believe that you and I are here together. From my first glimpse of you, I lusted for more.”