Shadow's Claim (The Dacians, #1)

by Kresley Cole

“Hold demon,” a male called from the back. “You’ve one final competitor.” Bettina would have recognized that deep, accented voice anywhere.

There Daciano was, striding toward her, his face grim with determination. The light of the grand torches sheened off his black hair. Tonight his clothing was more regal, the fine lines and cloth looking like they’d cost a pretty karat. He also wore a full-length trench coat of black leather that fitted flawlessly over his broad shoulders and narrow hips.

The vampire hadn’t spared him a glance, his attention solely on Bettina. Initially the Dacian’s eyes had been a deep green. Yet when his gaze locked on her, they flooded with black. As they’d been last night.

All she could think over and over: That vampire was in my bed, touching me as no other had before. As he closed the distance, she felt increasingly weak and breathless, as if a flash-fever had taken hold. How could merely looking at someone make her react physically?

I enter for the hand of Bettina.” He can’t lie? Then he’s not here just to kill Cas? He wants to marry me? She just stopped herself from fanning her face. Why can’t I catch my breath?

Still holding her gaze, the vampire dragged the blade across his palm, blood welling. Without hesitation, he signed, never looking down at the contract, never taking his penetrating eyes off her.

“You don’t appear to be an afterthought with that one, dearest freakling. You appear to be the only thought.”

No longer was he the enforcer of Dacian laws. No longer did he live among books, merely reading about social interactions. He wasn’t just an observer; he was present and involved, with an unshakable purpose: I will possess her.

This close to Bettina, he could scent her light perfume and sweet skin, could hear her shallow breaths as she studiously ignored him. Yes, I will possess her—and I’d do far worse than this for the privilege.

“I believe the Prince of Shadow is particularly motivated. He looks like his heart is in this. His beating heart.”

As soon as Bettina was alone, the vampire traced beside her and grasped her hand. Aware of the spectators watching her, she tried to appear calm as she hissed, “Release me!” between gritted teeth. He didn’t. His hand was hot, swallowing hers.

“You told me you wouldn’t come back for me!” “I said I didn’t plan on returning for you. I’ve since changed my mind.”

I will influence the others, telling them that Caspion the Tracker is a kingdomwide favorite who must be eliminated early. Unless . . .” “Unless what?” “You vow to grant me a boon, one to be determined later.”

“And I will not only spare him, I’ll dispatch any competitor you choose.” “You’re blackmailing me?” “Consider it . . . bargaining.”

“How am I to choose? I want them all gone!” “Then promise me even more favors. Accept me as your champion, and I’ll rid the entire ring of life.”

Daciano gave her a formal bow. “As you wish.” Then he shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her. “Hold this, Bride.” Such a trivial request, but it made it appear that they were already together.

Trehan stood within the Iron Ring, surrounded by stands of gawking Loreans, but he focused his mind on what was at stake. Her. Bettina.

He felt a vibration beneath his feet. Then another. Footsteps. Something was coming, something with mass. A last competitor? Just before the gate closed fully, a being emerged from the fog, heading for the ring. Trehan raised his brows as he craned his neck up. And up . . . The things I do for my Bride.

Her gaze slid to Daciano again. Sheathing his sword, the vampire traced once more, dodging a spear jab to the back, then attacked one of the storm demons, the one who’d called out those vile things earlier.

Then Daciano cast her a steady, questioning glance, as if to ask, A boon to be rid of this one too? Her temper got the better of her as she recalled the demon’s disgusting words. I’m only here to plow the princess! Feeling not an ounce of regret, she gave a nod.

Without so much as a sound—or even a change of expression—he twisted the demon’s head on its neck. One rotation. A second. Then he ripped it free with his bare hands.

Before the demon’s head had bounced beside its fallen body, the vampire had already seized a second demon competitor. Another questioning glance at her. So that was wh...

As she watched Daciano fight—no, fight wasn’t the right word; as she watched him ruthlessly execute his opponents, she fully comprehended why Caspion had been certain he would die. Trehan Daciano’s trade was killing. And he was a master of his trade. Yet as long as he was doing her bidding, he was like an extension of her—a weapon to be utilized.

Help him, Daciano! she inwardly cried. Gods, she would do anything, would agree to any number of boons to save Cas. As if he’d heard her, Daciano glanced up with a scowl, then to Cas and back. He held up five fingers. She nodded instantly, not even pausing to consider what this would mean in the future.

Most began limping toward the sanctum entrance. Their eyes burned with emotion—rage, fear, even excitement—from the hell they’d just endured. But not Daciano. His eyes were a steady, compelling green—and locked on her.

but Daciano remained amidst the bodies, blood splattered over his clothing, rivulets of it running down his grim face as he gazed up at her.

He’d killed so ruthlessly, yet so . . . calmly. Bettina had never seen anything like him. And she owed that dangerous male her favors.

Daciano simply stared at her, as if there were nothing else on earth worth beholding.

He supposed it was fitting that Bettina see him like this, without shadows to conceal him, his true nature exposed. This is what I bring to you. If you need a protector, this is what I offer. Her lips were parted, her eyes wide behind her mask. He inclined his head to her, acknowledging for whom he’d fought. Tonight he’d been Bettina Abaddon’s champion. And zeii mea, it’d felt good to kill for her!

That wastrel had a female like Bettina wanting him. But he was too stupid to see what was just before him. His loss. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure of it.

“We’ve ten favors between us,” he grated, taking back the coat she’d forgotten she still held. “Are you prepared to pay what you owe?”

“Your eyes were green the entire time.” “Why is this noteworthy?” “All that killing and blood, all those screams and flames, and you’re unaffected.” In a way, he reminded her of . . . of gold—a noble metal that didn’t react to most other elements.

“I’m accustomed to death and all its faces. But when I think about last night, I’m utterly affected.” At...

Voice gone husky, he murmured, “Your irises grow lighter, female. I’m not the only one who enjoyed what happened between us.”

“Meet me in my tent at midnight, and I promise you,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, “that I will treat you like a lady.” Such innocuous words, but the way he said them . . .

As she feigned interest in a shelf of figurines on sale, her thoughts returned to Daciano. He’d entered for her hand—not because he was a glory hound or because he’d been condemned on his home plane. No, apparently he’d surrendered his home forever.

“Perception is reality, chit. The wily leech wants others to think you’re his.”

“With your actions, you train others how to treat you.” “I don’t want to talk about the vampire,” she said. “I’ve got work to do.” She turned toward her workshop, planting herself at her drafting table.

Maybe he’d ask for a repeat of what had happened last night. More kissing, more touching. She was so curious about him, about his reactions to her—about

If only she could remember her first sexual experience more clearly. Though much was foggy, three things had been etched into her mind: the pleasure of his mouth on her breasts, the new and wondrous feel of his shaft, and the scalding heat of his seed.

Now he stood in the foggy drizzle upon a rooftop outside Castle Rune, awaiting Bettina—to watch over her. After the way those drunken entrants had spoken about her, he would never allow her to walk through the encampment alone.

Suddenly that strange and inexplicable frustration from months before returned, the dread that had woken him. He rubbed his chest. What had called to him so sharply then? It must have been related to her. Protect.

Trehan traced behind her, secretly wrapping her within the mist. As his blood female, she was of his kind—even if she didn’t accept that yet—and the mist was a part of them all.

He had to uncover what his little Bride feared. So he could destroy it.

The vampire was studying her with a quizzical glance. Right now, his eyes were a steady, dark green. They were handsome. He was handsome?

She felt safer with him than out on the street, even found the tension leaving her shoulders, her temples and jaw. In its place, that heated awareness returned, bringing with it irritation. Was she actually attracted to this vampire?

For a long laden moment, he just stood there staring at her body, his eyes smoldering.

She delicately cleared her throat; he exhaled a gust of breath, finally meeting her gaze and reaching out to take her cloak. “Arresting, Bettina,” he said in a roughened voice. “Quite literally.”

Now this vampire was looking at her as if she were a femme fatale. And for a crazy moment, he’d kind of made her feel like one.

“You spied on me?” “I watched over you,” he corrected, sitting beside her. “I would never let you walk alone this late at night.”