Claimed by Shadow

by Karen Chance

  Convocation, I thought numbly—it simply had to be. Every Senate had a biannual meeting where master-level vamps met to discuss policy. I’d never been to one, but Tony had spent days preparing for them, changing his mind about clothes and escorts as often as a teenager going to a prom. His entire entourage had been designed to impress, and with good reason. The weeklong gathering was the one time when he and other low-level masters could rub elbows with the glitterati—their own Senate members and visiting dignitaries from other senates around the world. Boots were licked, deals were made and alliances decided for the next two years.

  Tony had always gone armed to the teeth and surrounded by bodyguards, since it wasn’t unknown for the entertainment to get a little out of hand. I darted towards the orchestra on instinct—their golden instruments were the brightest things in the room—and hoped I wasn’t about to be another Convocation casualty. Of course, it was a bad idea. There were no service doors, hallways or exits anywhere I could see, just a large alcove surrounded by burgundy drapes. I looked back to see my pursuer almost within arm’s reach, and all the breath left my lungs.

  What I’d taken to be a wolf pelt, I realized with horror, wasn’t wolf at all. The paws draped over his chest were normal enough, if oversized. But the head that dangled halfway down his back was pink-skinned with a shock of light brown hair. I didn’t get a good look at it, just flashes under his arm as he reached for me, but that was more than enough. My eyes told me what my mind didn’t want to believe. He’d skinned a werewolf halfway through the transformation, so that the gray fur shaded into human skin around his shoulders.

  I tried to shift but felt too light-headed to be able to concentrate. I bit the inside of my cheek hard, to keep from passing out, and tried to climb into the orchestra pit. I’d hoped to find a hidden exit, but a clarinet player shoved me back out, hard enough that I went sprawling. I slid into oiled black boots that shone in the low light. A hand grabbed my hair, using it as a handle to jerk me upright.

  I stared into black eyes dancing with dark fire and forgot about the pain in my scalp. “You reek of magic,” the vamp said, his voice thick with an accent I couldn’t place. “I did not think the English brave enough to provide us with such a rare treat.”

  My eyes fell to the skull-less head bumping lightly against his side. It was now less than a foot away, and my throat closed in horror. I could see it perfectly—the sagging features, the dull hair, the empty eye sockets—and the limp, lifeless thing frightened me more than the vamp wearing it. If it brushed against me, there was a chance I’d See part of the creature’s life—and knowing my gift, it would undoubtedly be the last part.

  I moved away from it as much as I could, not wanting to know what it felt like to be skinned alive, and the vamp moved his grip from my hair to my elbow. His thumb caressed the skin at the bend of my arm, lightly, gently, but it felt like liquid metal poured from his hand into my veins. Pain was too mild a description for the shock that reverberated through me, bringing tears to my eyes and blinding me to everything outside my own body. He moved down to my wrist, a delicate stroke, but it spilled a line of blood along my arm as if his touch was a knife.

  “They usually cringe at the idea of feeding from magic users, too afraid of retaliation from the mages,” he said contemptuously. “I will have to remember to thank our host.” Panic flooded my system with adrenaline, but there was nowhere to go. I pulled backwards, even knowing it was a wasted effort, and he smiled. “Now, let us see if you taste as good as you smell.”

  A warm hand descended on my shoulder, and his smile faded. “This one is taken, Dmitri.”

  I didn’t need to turn around to know who had spoken. The rich tones were unmistakable, as was the pleasure that danced down my arm, slicing through the pain, reducing it to a low throb. A flash of anger passed over Dmitri’s face. “Then you should have kept her with you, Basarab. You know the rules.”

  A claret-colored cloak fell around me, so deeply red that it was almost black. “Perhaps you did not hear me,” Mircea said pleasantly. “So close to that appalling orchestra, it is not surprising.”

  “I don’t smell her on you,” Dmitri said with open suspicion.

  “Our host asked to see me shortly after I arrived. I did not think he would appreciate my bringing an extra pair of ears.” The joviality had fallen from Mircea’s voice.

  Dmitri didn’t seem to hear the warning. His eyes had fixed on the rapid pulse in my neck and he sneered, showing elongated canines. “She will not live to speak of anything she overhears.” His grip tightened, his fingers pressing into my flesh hard enough to bruise. The split in my arm widened, spilling a rush of blood over my skin.

  “That is for me to decide.” Mircea’s voice was soft but deadly cold. His arm encircled my waist, drawing me back against his body. His other hand caught Dmitri’s wrist. White-faced, the vamp swallowed, his hand spasming in Mircea’s grip. Power sparked between them, washing the air around us in a burning mist that felt like it would eat into my skin if I stayed there long enough.

  I stood in the curve of Mircea’s arm, all my strength needed just to keep my knees from buckling. Mircea’s power spiked, setting a warm rush of energy dancing along my body. But Dmitri didn’t seem to find the sensation so pleasant. He flinched noticeably, but stubbornly hung on, his grip so tight that my hand went numb. The two vampires stared at each other for a long minute, then Dmitri abruptly stepped back, gripping his arm and panting, eyes murderous.

  Mircea took hold of my wounded arm, pulling it straight, baring my blood-streaked skin. He dipped his head, his eyes fixed on the other vamp as his tongue flicked out, sliding along my arm in determined, challenging strokes. I watched him lick the blood from me in a daze, unable to look away from the sight of that proud head bowed over my wrist, mesmerized by the warm wetness of the tongue smoothing over me. Mircea raised his head after a moment and I stared at my arm in disbelief. Where there should have been wounds, there was only pale, unblemished skin.

  Mircea’s eyes never left Dmitri. “If you wish to contest this further, I am at your service.”

  Dmitri’s mouth worked for a moment, but his eyes slid away. “I would not affront our host by violating his hospitality, ” he said stiffly. He stepped back, anger in every line of his body. “But your abuse of the rules will be remembered, Mircea!”

  As soon as he stalked off, the red haze around us dissipated like fog in sunlight. The adrenaline that had kept me on my feet abruptly left, leaving me cold and shaking, and if it hadn’t been for Mircea’s arm, I’d have hit the floor again. Some nearby guests, who had been watching with obvious anticipation, turned away in disappointment.

  Mircea slowly pulled me backwards, into the shadows lining the wall. Nearby, a couple of vamps, a statuesque brunette and a blond, were feeding on a young woman. The female vamp was seated in a chair along the wall, the girl’s body draped across her lap as she drank from her jugular. The young woman’s head had fallen back, loose tendrils of blond hair tumbling around her shoulders, contrasting with the deep rose of the brunette’s gown. The male vamp knelt in front of them, his long, sapphire robe spilling around him like a waterfall. Predictably, he went for another target.

  He pulled the plum-colored, silky tunic the girl wore loose from the jeweled clasps at her shoulders, letting it slide through his hands slowly. The shimmering folds skimmed down her body to puddle around her hips. She moaned softly, whether in distress or encouragement, I couldn’t tell. He stroked her sides and stomach soothingly for a moment, then moved a fingertip to trace the plump blue veins on her breast. Her hand crept up until it lay on his shoulder, a timid gesture of embrace.

  He cradled one pale globe tenderly, his thumb brushing across the nipple in a light caress. The girl trembled visibly at his touch, but she leaned into it as his head followed his hand. She jerked violently a moment later as sharp fangs bit deep into her white flesh.

  The female vamp’s mouth drew the girl backwards, arching her body in
a perfect bow, then the male vamp pulled her back toward him with hands and lips and teeth. Each movement flowed smoothly into the next, building a hypnotic rhythm. Her young body was soon shuddering helplessly under the dual suction. Her breath came in short gasps as she was rocked between sensations until she was begging incoherently for more.

  I swallowed. The European vamps obviously didn’t follow the Senate’s approved method of drawing blood molecules through the skin or air. Maybe it was the era, or maybe they just played by different rules. Tony’s vamps had fed publicly enough times that I thought I’d grown blasé about it, but theirs had been a far more basic act, without the sensual overtones. Given the choice, I thought I preferred their crude brutality. I’d rather know death was coming, see it as the enemy it was, than welcome it like a lover.

  The male vamp had slipped a hand under the spill of plum fabric, and within seconds the girl was crying out in pleasure. But he wasn’t looking at her; his eyes were locked on the brunette’s, their shared gaze hot enough to burn. Feeding was an intimate act for vampires, and they never shared a body lightly. The girl appeared oblivious, or maybe she was just past caring. Her hips thrust up, accompanied by a groan loud enough to win a few amused looks from bystanders.

  Shocked slightly out of my daze, I looked away. I wondered whether the girl realized that she was merely a conduit for other people’s passion. I wondered whether she’d go to her death smiling, or if draining the refreshments dry was considered bad taste. Most of all, I wondered whether that was how Mircea saw me. Just a conduit—in my case, to power.

  Warm lips found my neck. “The only humans here tonight are entertainment and food,” he murmured, a husky whisper in the dark. “Which are you?”

  His breath feathering over my nape and shoulders was enough to speed my pulse, to make my body tighten. He breathed deeply of my scent and I trembled, caught between fear and desire. The geis didn’t care that this wasn’t the Mircea I knew, that this was a master vampire who had no reason to protect me. It didn’t understand that he was interested only in satisfying his curiosity over what had occurred at the theatre. It didn’t care that he might be hungry.

  “I’m here to warn you. You’re in danger.” It sounded lame even to my ears, but there was so much I couldn’t tell him that it was almost the only thing left.

  “Yes, I know. Dmitri is watching. And he does not release prey easily. We will have to be convincing, will we not?”

  I saw the flash of heat in his eyes a second before a hand slid behind my head and a hot mouth descended onto mine. I’d expected passion, but not the rush of overwhelming relief that filled me and spilled over into a strange and quiet joy. It felt like I’d been holding my breath for too long and was finally allowed to breathe. My hands curled reflexively where they lay against his chest, and for a long moment I was motionless, letting myself be kissed. Then my hand moved off his shoulder and down the side of his torso to the warm, sleek swell of Mircea’s hip. It wasn’t meant to be a caress, but somehow it turned into one. A broad palm circled my waist, a warm tongue slipped between my lips, and the geis really woke up.

  It was the difference between a single match and a bonfire. I inhaled a sobbing gasp, and tugged him downward. Fire gathered in that kiss, collected between our bodies and spilled over our skin, sending a shower of sparks through me. It was better than I’d thought it could be: strong and hard and hot and fierce. My hands seemed to exist only to tangle in that rich, dark hair, my mouth only to taste that smooth tongue.

  Powerful arms swept me up and he backed me into the wall; then we were devouring each other with shuddering, desperate hunger. His arm tightened around my waist, his legs shifted to make way for mine, drawing my thigh between the warm, muscular columns of his. I ached to feel him inside me, and like the girl, I suddenly didn’t care about the surroundings, or the desperate noises I was making. I wanted him with an ache that threatened to devour me.

  The kiss finally broke for lack of air on my part and I pressed my cheek against Mircea’s chest, gasping for breath. The pine scent that always clung to him engulfed me—it was almost as if I could see the forest, verdant and deep, spread out under an evening sky. I inhaled against the warm heat of his body, and felt weak. The only thing holding me up was his strength, bracing me against the wall, pressing skintight against me.

  Mircea drew back after a moment, looking a little shaken himself, and I somehow found my legs. “You seem to have a number of talents, little witch.”

  Any answer I might have made caught in my throat when I noticed what he was wearing. His clothes at the theatre had seemed a bit off, but this was really over the top. My hands sank into a claret-colored coat voluminous enough to act like a cloak. It was made of rich, heavy wool with a silken nap, edged by a thick band of gold embroidery. It fell a little past his knees, brushing the tops of dark brown boots. The outer garment opened to reveal a thin, golden brown inner robe, so soft that it had to be cashmere. It was loose but light enough that it clung to his body, outlining the sharply defined muscles of his chest, the long waist, the narrow hips, and the heavy weight of his sex.

  I assumed it was traditional Romanian dress for a noble and, oddly enough, it suited him. But I doubted he’d chosen it for fashion’s sake. Mircea preferred simple clothes that stood out because of superb tailoring. Tonight he was making a statement, the outfit a far more potent reminder of his lineage than the vest he’d worn to the theatre had been. The dragons on the waistcoat had been almost invisible— although I assumed vampiric sight would have picked them out easily enough—a subtle reference to his family symbol. Where it had whispered a reminder of his rank, his current outfit screamed it. I wondered who the message was for, and why he would need to make it badly enough to go around looking like a barbarian chief.

  The impression was reinforced by the sword hanging from a jeweled belt at his waist. The gold and cabochon rubies glinted dimly in the thin light, heavy and obviously old, like something out of a crusader’s treasure. As perhaps it was. I’d never seen Mircea carry a weapon before—when you’re a master vampire, it’s a little redundant—and it startled me. “You’re armed.”

  “In this company, certainly.” He moved behind me, baring my body to the room, and an arm slid around my waist, pulling me tight against him. As he kissed along my shoulder, silky hair, longer than my own, fell forward over my throat, but that wasn’t his destination. He brought my arm up and around his neck in a backwards embrace, and the pinpricks of fangs dented my skin.

  He was directly over the artery in my upper arm, but he wasn’t feeding—I’d have felt the energy drain, even if he didn’t pierce the skin. But it probably looked convincing. It also put him in perfect position to whisper in my ear, his voice low and dangerous. “What concerns me is that you, who claim to be merely human, are not. You are either very foolish or . . . more than you appear. What urgent business brings you here tonight?”

  The geis was enjoying the silk of Mircea’s breath against my cheek. It flooded my body with molten sweetness to the point that I could barely breathe, much less talk. And what would I have told him? There was a problem, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, but I had no idea what it was. And in this company, it was beyond ludicrous to think that I could affect anything. I was seriously beginning to doubt that my power knew what it was doing.

  “You ruined the play for me,” Mircea whispered. “I could not stop thinking about you. All I could see was that lovely body spread out for me . . . in my box . . . in my carriage . . . in my bed.”

  He pulled me around to face him and his mouth covered mine again, sweeping us away. The kiss was rougher and sweeter at the same time, threatening to overwhelm me with the mindlessness of pleasure. I could have no more broken away than I could have fought the whole room and won.

  Mircea finally pulled back, eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed. “Why do I want to touch you so badly?” The voice turned rough. “What have you done to me?”

  I thought that should be my lin
e. “I’m here to help,” I told him shakily. “You’re in danger.”

  His fingers stroked along the curve of my face, slowly, tenderly, as if he were touching something far more intimate. I licked my lips, and Mircea’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “I can see that.”

  “Mircea! I’m serious!”

  “So we are already on a first-name basis. Good; I despise formality.” As he spoke, the geis tugged at me with a persistent, unfulfilled ache. I felt the power of his shoulders under my hands and masculine hardness against my hip. It took an incredible amount of control not to let my body arch against him, silently begging to be taken. “As you know mine, do you think I could have your name?”

  I almost told him; that’s how far gone I was. Some tiny sliver of reason spoke up at the last minute, shouting a warning, and I bit my tongue to cut off the words. The pain brought me back to sanity, to the strains of a waltz and the hum of conversation.

  I looked around, but all I could see beyond the orchestra was a flickering darkness studded with candle flame. The high ceiling disappeared into shadow, the only bright spots a few glints where candlelight splashed over cracking gilt in faded murals. Nearby, the two vamps had finished their meal, and surprisingly the young woman was still alive. The male vamp was giving her something to drink out of a flask, and she accepted it without hesitation. At this point, she’d probably dive headfirst off the roof if he told her.

  Somewhere in all this was the problem I’d been sent to fix, and I had to concentrate if I had any hope of finding it. “It could be the woman—the one who was with you at the theatre—who’s the target,” I told Mircea. “Is she here?” It would be better to have them together, although what I was supposed to do if another master attacked them I had no idea.