Home > Shadow's Claim (The Dacians #1)(5)

Shadow's Claim (The Dacians #1)(5)
Author: Kresley Cole

He clasped her upper arms, tracing them into her bed. She gasped as he positioned himself over her, but then she whispered, "Yes, yes."

Chapter 5

Her hair spread out behind her, a backdrop of shining waves. Her scent was drugging. She arched her back, drawing all his attention back to her br**sts, to those jutting ni**les. Did they throb as badly as his shaft? Were those stiffened peaks driving her mad?

He rubbed his thumbs over them, gave each a light pinch as he watched her reaction.

"Oh, gods." She licked her lips, staring up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. As her irises began to glitter from her passion, she whispered, "Kiss me. Please kiss me."

Anything! He lowered his head, slanting his mouth over hers, relishing her cry. Her red lips were smooth, unimaginably giving. He slipped his tongue between them, and she met him.

As she softly lapped, Trehan's head swam. Her mouth tasted like spiced honey mead.

He kissed her with all the pent-up passion denied him over lifetimes. With each sweep of his tongue, he grazed his straightened forefingers over her ni**les, until she was undulating beneath him.

When he tore his mouth away to run his lips along the slim column of her neck, she breathed, "I've needed this. Needed you." She sounded delighted-and relieved?

He craved relief as well. For now the pressure in his c*ck was turning into pain. He rose up on his knees, unbuckling his sword belt, tossing it to the floor.

"You know you can do anything to me," she murmured. "I'm yours-I always will be."

He groaned. Want for nothing? No more. His wanting for this female was primal, undeniable, bordering on . . . savage. He dropped his head to her chest, kissing all around one nipple, tasting her luscious skin.

"Yes!" She sank her nails into his back. "More. Please! P-put your mouth on it."

With a growl, he complied. When he closed his lips over one peak and it puckered to the tip of his tongue, she gasped. When he flicked it, she moaned, "That feels so good."

His new Bride was so responsive, he knew he could make her come just from this. Another night, he would, tormenting her until she begged him for release.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him in place as he began to suck.

Her taste was bliss-her cries, the scent of her dark hair, the way she moaned with each swirl of his tongue.

What a gift he'd been given with this sorceress!

Impulses warred. He wanted to suckle her for hours, to lick her sex and taste the orgasms he'd wrung from her. He wanted her pale hands gripping his cock, her red lips sealing around it as he thrust.

To feed his length inside her . . . inch by throbbing inch.

Haze. Losing control. He snarled against her breast, increasing his suction as he drew his head away. Then to her other nipple. What would it be like to pierce that taut peak with a fang? Blood from the sweetest little font.

Where had that disturbing thought come from? His kind considered biting another to be a savage taboo. Were his fangs beginning to ache? Ignore them.

As he sucked, he palmed her br**sts with greedy hands, possessively clutching her. When her arms fell limp over her head-letting me do as I will-his worry faded. He drew back and gazed at his woman, pride firing inside him.

Panting breaths between plump, red lips. Hips rolling with need. Nipples wet and swollen from my tongue. His heart thundered for her. Forever for her.

She's stunning.

All she needed was his bite, emblazoned on her skin. No, ignore these forbidden thoughts! Think only of mating her. He could scent her desire. She needs to be mated.

With that idea in mind, he snatched off her skirt, leaving her in only her mask, her jewels, and those leather boots.

"Oh! P-please go easy." She swallowed audibly. "This is about as far as I've ever been before."

A virgin! Misgivings arose. How young was she?

Yet she didn't attempt to cover herself. Any lingering doubts dwindled when she gave a needy whimper, spurring him on.

Must prepare her body. A virgin would need extra care. He supposed. Never been with one. He couldn't remember bed play before her, seemed to have forgotten anything he'd learned in his youth.

He dipped one hand, glancing his palm up her supple thigh.

"Yes," she sighed, "oh, yes. You've made me ache here." Her knees fell wide open for him, spreading her slick, blushing folds, and one thought arose: She is o comoara, a treasure. My treasure.

Soon he'd be buried to the hilt inside that lush heat. His c*ck pulsed in readiness. Pre-semen beaded the crown, dampening the front of his pants.

Again her fingers skimmed across his waist, back and forth before sliding lower behind the material. Just as he reached between her legs, she worked her hand into his pants.

Her soft palm gripped him; he cupped her hot sex.

He gave a curt, shocked yell, almost coming spontaneously; she moaned with abandon.

Even as he reveled in her wetness, her touch jolted him-nimble fingers clutching at his shaft, gently tugging. The foreign sensation drove his h*ps forward for more.

He could feel her swollen little clitoris budding beneath the heel of his palm; her dizzying scent made him crazed to taste her there.

Then her hand started to move on him. "It feels so . . . amazing," she said in a tone filled with wonder.

She'd never even touched a c*ck before? Amid all the turmoil he felt, tenderness arose for his sweetly innocent mate.

But then she squeezed it, murmuring, "My darling, I need this inside me ever so badly."

Too much! Seed climbed until the pressure grew agonizing. He was about to come, would never last as he sank his length inside her virgin sheath and took her maidenhead.

"Stroke me," he commanded her. He would get this out of the way, then see to her pleasure all night. Claiming her repeatedly.

She hesitated, then tentatively rubbed his shaft from hilt to tip, and again. As he petted her quivering flesh, he grew mindless, unable to stop himself from f**king her hand with short pumps of his hips.

His testicles tightened. His cockhead swelled. He knew he had only a second before he ejaculated for the first time in centuries. Two choices. Rip down his pants-or raise his wetted fingers from her sex to his lips.

The latter won. As he sucked her cream from his fingers, he groaned around them, beginning to spill into her hand.

Bettina had been lost in this experience, awash in every unfamiliar sensation and sound.

Cas's increasingly desperate groans. The heat of his skin as it slickened with sweat. His measured thrusts giving way to frenzy, until he was grinding against her fist.

Then something spurted over her hand. Hot. Liquid. Her eyes flashed open.

Semen?

Cas gave a deep bellow, his mighty body jerking as jet after jet of his seed erupted. How was this possible?

Could I have wrung this from him? Her brief flare of happiness was doused by confusion. No, he couldn't produce it, not until he'd had sex with his mate. Certainly not outside of her.

Had he already found his female and broken that seal, only to be untrue to his fated one? Had he lied to Bettina?

Once he'd emptied himself, once the violent shudders had subsided, he collapsed atop her with a satisfied grunt, nuzzling her neck. When she tugged her moist hand from his pants, he reached for his ripped shirt, using the tail to wipe away his come before tossing the garment away.

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 ni**les 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 br**sts. "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 f**king 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.

Chapter 6

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.

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