Kresley Cole - Shadow's Claim

Which she supposed was considerate ?

Then his fingers returned between her legs. She gasped when his thumb circled her clitoris, his other fingers teasing her opening. When she felt his erection already growing against her hip, that smoldering desire mounted even stronger than before, momentarily erasing all misgivings.

She’d gone her entire life without this kind of pleasure; why did it feel so critical to her now? Her body relaxed, her legs helplessly spreading for more of his caresses.

“Ah, my wanton little sorceress”—his heated words fanned over her ear, making her nipples pucker against his damp chest—“you are a treasure.” Still lazily petting her, he began to kiss down her body, grazing his lips over her collarbone, then between her breasts. “Now let me attend to you.”

Even as she trembled with delight, she wondered why Cas’s voice sounded so raspy. Just from his arousal? And was he talking about licking her down there? The idea excited Bettina—but why wouldn’t he claim her? “Don’t you want to make love to me now?”

Finish line . . . so close .

“Soon. But I’ve had a sample of your taste, dragă mea, maddening me. First I feast. . . .”

That did not sound like Cas—

But his warm breaths over her navel felt so good, made her shake with eagerness. “C-Cas?”

The male tensed, cursing in a language she’d never heard. “What did you say?” He rose up above her and pinched her chin hard.

She began to sober up as panic raced through her. “You’re not Caspion!” she cried, shoving at his chest.

Red flags had arisen before, but she’d been a slave to her senses, to the pleasure radiating outward from his every kiss, his every stroke. She’d assured herself that his voice was desire-roughened or that she was simply drunk.

“Caspion?” he grated. “So that is the way of it? You believed I was another when you gave yourself so freely!” He captured her wrists in one fist.

“Release me!” she ordered as she fought to get free. “Who are you?” She couldn’t see, but she could feel tension rolling off him, could hear the rage in his voice. Violence would follow.

Just like before.

Confusion rocked her, that familiar terror arising. She’d learned all too well how vulnerable her body was to attack!

Why does this keep happening to me? Tears welled. She whispered, “N-not again.” But he wasn’t listening.

Between gritted teeth, he said, “I am Prince Trehan Cristian Daciano. And you are my woman.” Pinning her arms above her head, he vowed, “After tonight, little Bride, you will never mistake me for another again. . . .”

Raw instinct burned inside Trehan, aggression overwhelming him. The need to mark his mate grew irresistible, not necessarily for blood but for dominion .

For possession . She’s mine.

Biting simply wasn’t done—but his control faltered. Goaded over the edge by jealousy, he knew he would answer the call.

She wants another. My female craves another male in her bed.

“Bride? V-vampire ?” she cried, fighting his hold on her wrists. “Wait, wait!”

He spied her pulse fluttering in her neck. His fangs sharpened to tap that spot—never had they been beyond his control, never had they throbbed to pierce flesh. No vampire could resist this temptation.

But a Dacian would be expected to.

Compared to his hunger, that thought was too dim to be heeded. He leaned down, parting his lips to lick her neck, instinctively preparing her for his bite. Just below her collar, soft, pink skin beckoned him. “I feel your pulse against my tongue. Ah, your flesh . . . it tastes so sweet .”

If her skin tasted like this, her blood would be like heaven. Hot, rich, heaven sliding down his throat.

Over. His restraint gone—

“Don’t bite me!” she pleaded. “Don’t hurt me!”

Hurt her? “I don’t want to hurt you . . . I can’t stop this.”

“P-please don’t.”

You’re going to fucking bite her? Like some savage vampire? You’re a godsdamned Dacian! “If you’ve any defenses, sorceress . . . use them . . . against me now! Stop me.”

He heard a sob, felt moisture on her face. Tears? She was crying ?

Her small body trembled against him as she whispered, “I-I can’t s-stop you.”

The idea of her in such distress cut through his frenzy. Somehow he forced himself to draw back, to not plunge his dripping fangs into her.

Behind her mask, her glinting eyes darted. Darted blindly? He waved his hand in front of her face. Nothing.

Then he remembered—Sorceri senses were nearly as diminished as a mortal’s.

Reason whispered, Your little Bride is terrified, can’t see in the dark, has no idea who’s in her bed.

Instinct screamed, Mark her! So another male can’t take what’s yours!

With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he released her, surrendering his prize.

She jerked upright, scrambling across the bed from him, snatching the bedspread to her chest, eyes still darting.

She hadn’t been able to see Trehan whatsoever. She truly had believed that he was Caspion.

So what will she think of me when she gazes upon me for the first time? Perhaps he oughtn’t to be kneeling there, bare-chested, with his spend drying in his pants, for her initial impression. He rose, yanking on his coat and slinging his sword around his hips. His tattered shirt was ruined beyond use.

“Wh-why would you do this to me?” she whispered, her mask askew. “I don’t know you.” She dropped her face into her hands.

It was everything he could do not to touch her, to comfort her. But I’m the one she fears. . . .

He’d frightened his Bride. Because I’m not Caspion. Yet another reason to kill him.

How excited Trehan had been to find her, how optimistic—but it’d all been an illusion, her sensual responses meant for another.

Each of the things he’d so enjoyed with her was now tainted. When she’d stroked Trehan’s shaft to come, she’d believed it was that demon’s. When she’d whispered, “You know you can do anything to me. I’m yours—I always will be. . . .”

The thought sent his anger skyrocketing once more, his fangs sharpening again. Trehan wanted her to tell him those same charged words, whispering them in his ear.

With a vile curse, he reached for a candle.

The strike of the match made Bettina jump. As a candle alleviated the darkness, she saw that the vampire was turned from her, leaning with one hand against the wall. His head was down, his broad back heaving with breaths.

He dug his fingers into the stone as he clearly grappled for control. “You awaited him this night?” he bit out, launching his other fist against the wall, sending rock shards flying.

She gave a cry, briefly ducking under the cover.

At the sound, he tensed even more. “You fear me. You shouldn’t . I will never hurt you,” he grated. “Gods know if I haven’t yet . . .”

“B-because I’m your Bride.” She could scarcely wrap her mind around that.

“Yes.”

“Are you a natural-born vampire?” Born vampires couldn’t tell lies.

“What you really want to know is if I can speak untruths. I can’t. I wouldn’t anyway.” His voice was deep, his words marked by an accent she didn’t recognize. “Lying is counterproductive and illogical.”

“Oh.” She found her tears drying. The fear that so often dominated her life had receded—and she didn’t know why. Maybe because this vampire had somehow kept himself from biting her even though she’d blooded him—and infuriated him. His restraint reassured her somewhat.