Kresley Cole: Shadow's Claim

She’d cleaved.

As ever, she wondered what he was doing. Would he have tried to return to his homeland? Or would he strike out and start a new life altogether?

Nothing was stopping him from finding another female, from wedding another. If she’d thought she’d been jealous over Caspion, the idea of Daciano making love to some gorgeous vampiress made her power flare uncontrollably.

Before Bettina could rein it in, her hands lit up. Her own rattle rattle . Great. Unintentional sorcery use on the mortal plane. “Sabine, we need to start wrapping up here.” Bettina might be prepared to face down Vrekeners if push came to shove, but she’d rather avoid it. “I’ve got to get back to Abaddon.”

Even Sabine, who’d warred with the Vrekeners for centuries, gave them a wide berth. Or at least she had, before Lanthe had been taken.

Munro turned to Bettina with a narrowed gaze and a flash of recognition. “Did you say Abaddon ?”

Oh, boy, I can guess where this is going. It seemed like everyone in the Lore had heard about the tournament. “I did.”

At once, his irises glowed that eerie blue. “My clan’s heard tales of what goes on in your demonarchy,” he grated. “One of our own was beheaded there, no? One newly turned?”

“Yes,” Bettina said simply, a habit learned by a vampire.

“Turned human or no, he possessed the Instinct. That made him our brother.”

With a pang, Bettina recalled that Lykae’s last word: Brother .

Munro bit out, “Any reason we shouldn’t retaliate against Abaddon?”

“That male was entered into an irrevocable blood contract,” Bettina said in a steady tone, her palms beginning to glow under the table, power at the ready; Munro dashed a hand over his chest, no doubt wondering why his heart had stuttered. “After that, there was nothing we could do.”

Sabine was watching this exchange like a demon at a kobold toss.

“Who entered him?” Munro demanded.

“A sect of warlocks called Those Best Forgotten. I couldn’t get them out of my kingdom fast enough.”

“Warlocks.” His lips curled in disgust, revealing lengthening fangs. It was no secret that the Lykae distrusted all things magical.

“As a show of goodwill between my kingdom and yours,” Bettina said, “I will give you information we gathered on them. Seems they’re making many more of your kind, turning humans, then using them as slaves. We’ve also got their location.”

“Slaves?” Munro’s dark claws punctured the table. “My clan knows how to find the Forgotten.”

“Good. Then you can ‘retaliate’ against those that deserve it. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter,” she added, just because she could.

“Happy hunting,” Sabine said as Munro levered himself to his feet, his chair clattering behind him as he charged off.

To his crew at the bar, he snapped rough words in Gaelic. They sounded like marching orders.

Each of the young Lykae reacted with aggression, his eyes turning, an image of a wolven creature flashing over him.

When the pack plowed out of the bar, Bettina thought, I could almost feel sorry for Those Best Forgotten. . . .

Sabine faced her with a raised brow. “Oh, Munro just called from the parking lot, mentioned something about wanting his testicles back. What’s gotten into you?”

Bettina shrugged.

“You have all this new confidence, and you don’t fear me anymore. Which begs the question”—Sabine peered intently at her—“am I losing my touch? Or are you finally finding yours?”

“Maybe I am.” I totally am . She felt more comfortable in her own skin, more confident with her rule.

But the aching emptiness she’d felt after losing her power had only been replaced by losing the vampire.

He was her first real love. He would be her last.

Why couldn’t Trehan Daciano be her devotedly hot king, involving himself with public works and demon lifesaving—

Right before her eyes, the bar’s haze of smoke seemed to transform, changing consistency all around them. Loreans grew uneasy. More than one group shuffled, flew, or scampered toward the exit.

“What’s happening?” Sabine demanded.

Bettina could no longer see the sorceress through the haze. She glanced down at her now glittering skin. Speak of the vampire. “He’s . . . here.” She shot to her feet, whirling around.

Daciano!

His skin was even paler now, his build rangier than the last time she’d seen him. He was dressed all in black, like a reaper in a long leather coat. His lips were thinned, his eyes black with emotion.

Rage? Vampiric hunger? Lust?

All she knew was that he was absolutely about to seize her. A male vampire in his prime had come for his Bride.

He disappeared. No, wait—

His strong arms wrapped around her from behind, enveloping her with his scent and heat. At her ear, he rasped, “Miss me, Bride?”

Through the mist, Trehan had gazed at her, a vision in her bold silks and jewels. A demonic-looking crown perched atop shining braids. A dark green mask highlighted her eyes.

He grudgingly admitted that she was even more beautiful than when he’d last seen her.

Life with Caspion must be agreeing with her.

At the thought, Trehan squeezed her tighter. Now she is warm and trembling in my arms. Where she will remain.

Just before he traced her back to Dacia, he glanced over his shoulder at her Sorceri companion. The female darted her eyes blindly, unable to see through the mist, but she looked delighted. “Have fun, Bettina! You two meet me back here in an hour. . . .”

Trehan frowned, then forced his Bride back to his home.

Inside his suite, Bettina staggered back from him. By the way she was staring at his eyes, he knew they were still black.

“Where have you taken me?” She peered around his home with an expression of dawning horror, then rushed to the opened balcony. As she gazed out over the city, she rocked on her feet. “I-I’m in Dacia.”

“Yes.”

Without turning back, she cried, “Why?”

“I’ve been accepted back in. My Bride as well.”

“H-how dare you take me to this place!”

For the thousandth time, he pictured the look on her face as she’d handed him that goblet. “I dare easily.” He traced behind her, inhaling her scent. “You belong to me. And it was time to collect my belongings.”

In the confusion of the bar, the vampire had been able to snare Bettina so easily, plucking her like gold from a rushing stream, then taking her to . . . Dacia.

A place where outsiders could check in, but could never check out. Yes, she’d wanted to talk to him—but not at the expense of her freedom!

Barely tamping down her rising shock, she’d hastened across the spacious, gilded room to a balcony. At the railing, she’d gazed out in bewilderment, seeing everything Daciano had described of his home.

Soaring caverns, wisps of mist, carved-stone buildings. A giant crystal above all twinkled with prismed light. A haunting black castle stood sentinel not far away.

The vampire had truly ferried her to the land of the legendary Daci.

Bristling, she pivoted around, finding herself eye level with his chest. He was scant inches away, so close that she had to crane her head up to meet his gaze.

Close enough that she could take in his addictive scent. It still scrambled her thought processes.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, looking as confused and miserable as she’d been feeling for weeks.

Were his thoughts scrambled as well?