Shadow's Claim
Page 113

Salem politely used telekinesis to brush peanut shells off the table. "Ladies . . ."
As they sat, Sabine said, "Rydstrom won't even know I'm gone. He's shoring up a damaged dam today, selflessly rescuing demon lives."
How wonderful that must be-to have a hot, adoring king at home who was busily involved in public works. Bettina had learned that being a single ruler was challenging; now that Abaddon was a hopping, new Lore-ist destination, life could get crazy around the kingdom in a hurry.
It'd be nice to have a partner. . . .
"And besides," Sabine continued with a glare, "I wouldn't have to be here if you hadn't chased off the one mysterious vampire who knows the way to Skye Hall."
Bettina would never live this down. When she'd told Sabine-who knew much about vampires-the overview of her relationship with Trehan, the sorceress had been incredulous. "You allowed him to claim you, but then you denied him his vampire bite?"
Daciano had been so bent on pleasuring Bettina, on soothing her fears, that he'd agreed to wait until she was ready.
Sabine had gone on to explain, "Do you remember how empty you felt without your power? Well, imagine you'd suffered that lack for lifetimes, but at last you could get it back, little by little-from your mate's neck. Regrettably, he just didn't feel like putting out." Then she'd added the coup de grace: "His denying his instinct to bite would be like you denying your need to create. No wonder he lost his mind and ditched you."
Now that Bettina understood more about his kind, her guilt had mounted-even as she'd felt a spark of hope about their future.
Then she'd remembered that she still couldn't find him.
A shifter waitress sauntered up to the table then. "What'll you two have?"
"Clearly, we're Sorceri." Sabine gestured at her resplendent self. "Ergo, we'd enjoy some Sorceri wine."
"Don't got it."
Sabine quirked a red brow. "Do you not? Check with Erol, shifter. He'll have an emergency bottle for me-because whenever I arrive, it's an emergency." She rapped her claws together. As the shifter scurried off, Sabine advised her, "And never naysay me again."
Back to business, Sabine asked Bettina, "You still have no reason to expect your vampire to return?"
"I don't know." No reason at all. "Maybe?" Never.
Salem snorted. "The vamp basically told her, 'I'm in a weird place in me life right now, and I need some space.' Of course he told her that by pointing a bloody sword at her whilst bellowing, 'I forsake you!' in front of the entire kingdom."
Bettina glared down at her collar. But then she admitted, "I think I kind of . . . broke him." Reflecting over that week, she'd begun to compare Daciano to metal under strain. Lack of blood and sleep had been applied pressure and heat. Apparently, denying his instinct to bite her had been corrosion.
Her plea of mercy? The blow of a smith's hammer. Broken.
At Bettina's stricken look, Sabine said, "Listen, Rydstrom and I had a few bumps in the road. Our initial romance consisted of me chaining him in a dungeon and sexually tormenting him. And yet we worked past it."
"Don't they make cards for that?" Salem chuckled.
"But Rydstrom wouldn't let you out of his sight until you were bonded," Bettina pointed out. "I can't even locate my male to work things out."
The waitress returned then with a bottle of wine and fine crystal glasses. Her hand shook as she poured. "Erol s-says this is on the house."
Sabine blinked at her. "Any reason it wouldn't be?" Before fleeing headlong, the female backed away three steps, as one would to royalty-which Sabine was.
"And speaking of on the house," Sabine said, raising her glass, "all my jewels are going to be free until my sister is free."
"Do you want our fledgling enterprise to go tits-up?" Salem sputtered. "It's called cost, sorceress. . . ." He trailed off. "Oi! I see my contact. I'll just go have a quick chin-wag, then."
Before Bettina could ask more, he'd ghosted away.
"I do like your phantom's greedy bent," Sabine said without a thread of sarcasm. "Such a pleasantly mercenary fellow." She scanned the room once again, meeting eyes with that older wolf at the bar.
The Lykae cast his boisterous companions a warning look, then started wending through the crowd toward her.
Not surprising. Sabine was magnetic.
But a couple of those younger Lykae even raised their glasses to Bettina. She waved and smiled, musing, Why couldn't I have fallen for a hot young Scot?
An uncomplicated pup who liked to fetch rugby balls?
When the Lykae reached their table and sank his towering frame into a chair beside Sabine, the sorceress barely quirked an eyebrow. "Munro MacRieve, as I live and breathe."
She knew this gorgeous wolf? He was darkly attractive, with overtly masculine features and molten amber eyes. But his expression was severe. He looked as troubled as Cas had the day he'd left Rune.
Munro inclined his head to Sabine. "Sorceress." Then he indicated Bettina with a sexy lift of his chin. "And you are?"
"Queen Bettina of the Deathly Ones." That would never get old.
Munro gave her a nod, then turned to Sabine. "You've still no' found your sister?" he asked with a marked Scottish accent.
Yes, Bettina needed a hot young Scot with a brogue. And soon. The unfortunate part about discovering sex?