Shadow's Seduction Read online

  "Now I concentrate," Mirceo answered, tone curt. He drew in a deep breath, then exhaled, closing his eyes. Heartbeats passed.

  Damn it, Cas wasn't averse to holding another male's hand, it was just . . . new. He recalled the first time he'd sampled lobster. It'd smelled amazing, the tender meat glistening with butter, but he hesitated to try something unfamiliar.

  Cas had become set in his ways, but the vampire expected him to accept all these changes without even an afterthought. The temperature began to increase, distracting him. Was the air getting more humid? Mist arose, surrounding them.

  A comforting sense of warmth enveloped Cas, as if this bank of vapor blunted all of his concerns. The rest of the world melted into the background--there, but not there. Even the sound of the wind was subdued. Their bodies faded into faint, glittering outlines. "So this is really happening?" I'm nothing but mist.

  "Fate says you are a Dacian now--so you can join me. We can see, hear, and feel each other, but non-Dacians can't detect us. In theory."

  Only the two of them existed inside this cocoon. Cas felt connected to the vampire, as he'd never been to anyone else. He wished he could be enfolded like this when he had time to savor it. "I have to admit, this is a damn handy skill." What other jobs could they pull off together?

  "Are you ready?"

  Cas mimicked Mirceo: "I was born ready, sweetheart." He grinned when the vampire muttered, "Demonic lout."

  They began to float upward, levitating farther and farther off the ground. Cas had to stifle a laugh. Amazing! As they continued to rise like a cloud, they moved toward that boundary.

  Closer . . . closer . . . closer . . .

  Here--

  Tentacles burst from the ground, shooting toward them. Oh, fuck me! The scaly snakelike arms coiled around them--through them. Through our bodies!

  Somehow Cas choked back a yell. He was about to piss himself--how was Mirceo so calm and focused? With steely determination, the prince pressed on.

  They outdistanced the scyllas' reach! Cas murmured, "Nice play, vampire. No one has ever gotten this far."

  Mirceo didn't react, absorbed by his task.

  Still rising, they approached the top of the pyramid. Would he be able to mist them inside? Everything depended on this step--all the work they'd done, all the unwitting prep Cas had completed over the centuries.

  They neared . . . then passed through the stone. Cas's senses blanked, a feeling like being momentarily blinded and muffled in cotton. Then . . . flickering light?

  Gods almighty, they'd breached Harea's stronghold!

  So this is the lair of the notorious King of Sand. A fire illuminated the large chamber. Gold gilded the walls, the hearth encrusted with rubies. A scorpion the size of a small car slept before the fire. Yet more security?

  A massive bed levitated a couple of feet above the marble floor. In it, a dozen unclothed females slumbered around the sole male.

  The sorcerer.

  He was naked as well, passed out beside a large opium pipe. The drug's scent still spiced the air.

  The jewel-draped females must be his personal harem. The concubines came in all shapes, sizes, and colors--purple, black, white, blue--like a Miss Lore competition. Was Mirceo's gaze lingering on any of those beauties?

  "We're clear," Cas whispered. "I'll take Harea. You get the scorpion. But pay attention."

  As Mirceo made them solid, gravity weighed them down, their bodies reclaiming mass. The world suddenly seemed harder and colder than before. Mirceo released him, then they both drew their swords.

  The scorpion scuttled to life at once. Hissing at their scent, it snapped its claws and hoisted its meaty stinger. Acidic venom dripped from it, searing holes into the floor. Mirceo traced through the acrid smoke to fend off the creature.

  As females began to stir on the bed, Cas tucked his sword tip beneath Harea's chin. Yet the sorcerer didn't so much as twitch. Worry for Mirceo distracted Cas.

  The scorpion's tail shot forward with blistering speed, but Mirceo was just as quick, blocking the strike with his sword. The vampire wielded his blade as though it were an extension of his body. Gods, the way he moves. . . .

  Mirceo targeted the scorpion's head; it fended off his sword with its claws, jabbing that tail. The stinger plunged toward Mirceo's leg--

  Before Cas could draw a breath, the vampire glided out of the way, and the stinger crashed against the floor inches from one of his boots.

  Mirceo took that instant to swing his sword. The tail plopped to the floor, writhing and dribbling acid. He dodged two claw strikes, then planted the tip of his blade into the scorpion's head.

  Creature defeated, Mirceo flashed Cas that mind-scrambling grin.

  Focus. As more concubines awakened, Cas turned to a blue zalos demoness. "We're here to apprehend Harea. I assume we have the right sorcerer."

  "Uh-huh." She showed no distress that Harea was being taken or that their pet scorpion had just been put down. "He probably won't wake. Been on a bender." She canted her head. "How did you get inside? We've watched failed attempts for ages."

  "How?" Mirceo answered, striding toward the bed. "We're a soon-to-be-legendary hunting partnership. 'Impossible' is our middle name."

  What am I going to do with this vampire? Cas pulled the mystical restraints off his belt, then tossed them to Mirceo. "Bind the prisoner."

  Cuffs in hand, the vampire knelt on the bed. "Pardon me, tulips." His grin deepened as he waded on his knees through beautiful females to reach Harea. Instead of fighting to protect their master, the concubines giggled and made eyes at gorgeous Mirceo.

  Cas clenched his jaw. Mind on the job. Harea was incredibly dangerous.

  Or the degenerate would be--if he ever woke.

  As Mirceo shackled the male's wrists behind his back, Harea mumbled, "Even sorcery . . . can't get my staff hard again. Pipe, females, PIPE." But he didn't rouse.

  Mirceo rolled Harea over, his gaze raking over the sorcerer's unclothed body. Harea's olive skin was deeply tanned, and tattooed hieroglyphics marked his chest. He had shoulder-length black hair, wavier than Mirceo's stick-straight locks, and a tall, generously muscled build.

  Harea was not a little hung.

  Cas scowled at the vampire. "Getting an eyeful?" he said, unable to keep the jealousy out of his tone.

  Mirceo winked at him, then asked the harem, "Ladies, will one of you fetch a pair of pants for the sorcerer?"

  Another naked concubine--a godsdamned redheaded nymph--slid off the bed and sauntered off to retrieve some. As she sashayed back to Mirceo, she held the vampire's eyes.

  He gave her a courteous bow. "My thanks, tulip." He began to dress the man, threading Harea's legs into the slim-fitting pants. Cas gritted his teeth when Mirceo had to lean his face down close to the male's groin.

  The redhead rejoined the harem on the bed. "If you're taking him away, who will tend to our lusts?"

  Mirceo laced the breeches over Harea's member, then grinned at Cas. "It does sound like a quandary, doesn't it, demon?"

  "You two should stay for a bit." The redhead's hand dipped between her thighs. "We'll pleasure you so hard that you'll never want to leave us." The others murmured encouragement.

  "Will you, indeed?" Mirceo said with a devilish light in his eyes. "Tell us more, tulip. . . ."

  TWENTY-ONE

  "Tulip? Tulip?" the demon snapped at Mirceo. "Why do you call females that?" In the alley behind the Red Flag, Caspion dropped the still-unconscious sorcerer onto the grimy bricks. Harea hadn't so much as twitched when they'd teleported him from Poly.

  The weather between dimensions had gone from freezing grit to muggy fog. In this plane, mere seconds had passed since Mirceo and Caspion had left.

  Mirceo leaned against a lamppost, grinning at the demon's jealousy. "Because they love it when I do."

  As they awaited the Gaolers, Caspion kept his sword at the ready. "Are you going to continue fucking them? They also love it when you do that."

 
"I only have eyes for you." Sometime over the last three nights, Mirceo's fascination with his mate had escalated into . . . hero worship. Whenever he gazed at the demon, he was almost humbled that fate had connected them.

  Caspion paced the alley. "Perhaps at present."

  Who could compete with such a warrior? One day Mirceo would convince the stubborn demon that he would be faithful. "There's a difference between trifling and fucking, love. A bevy of beauties was flirting with me, and I flirted back--a touch. Face it, my charm's the only thing that got us out of there with our virtue intact."

  Caspion shook his head hard. "You're a player. You always will be."

  "This jealousy of yours is delicious." Mirceo licked his bottom lip.

  The demon's gaze locked it. "You're never going to change."

  "Exchanging repartee is a far cry from plowing through them all."

  Caspion slowed his pacing. "Did you . . . did you want to?"

  "No. Not whatsoever." They both knew he couldn't lie.

  "And Harea? You couldn't have gotten your mouth closer to the sorcerer's dick without biting it." Caspion's fierce expression made Mirceo's toes curl in his boots.

  "One more time: I want my mate alone."

  "Why would you clothe Harea?"

  "Seemed like a decent thing to do. Hell, demon, a few months ago, we might have befriended a hedonist like him. And for the record--I was trying to make you jealous."

  "Maybe I'm not jealous. Maybe I'm pissed because you keep throwing out this idea that we're fated--yet your behavior doesn't back that up whatsoever. I'm too old for bullshit."

  "Your pique isn't surprising. Your demonic temper will continue to get more volatile the longer you go without claiming your mate." He pointed a thumb at himself. "Claiming me."

  "If you are mine."

  "Uh-huh." The demon wasn't going down without a fight. But that was okay. Mirceo had always savored a good conquest. He'd first viewed Caspion as only a conquest. One day Mirceo would have to come clean about that wager. And about the demon's last night in Dacia.

  But for now . . . "What about you? Did you desire the concubines?"

  He so clearly wanted to lie. But other than when he denied his feelings, Caspion had always been honest with Mirceo. "Why wouldn't I? I'm not mated."

  Deflection! "It's a simple question. Did you want any--or all--of them?"

  "My mind was on the job." Caspion's scowl deepened as Mirceo's grin spread.

  "Right. Back to the job. Should we have a plan in place for when the Gaolers show?"

  "Yeah, the plan is: let Caspion do the talking."

  Mirceo gave a mock bow. The demon could be overly domineering--nature of the beast--but luckily Mirceo had a more laid-back disposition. Such a change from how I used to be when young.

  Otherwise he and Caspion would never make it. Now more than ever, Mirceo believed they would. Yes, seeing the hell his mate had called home had undermined his confidence. But the two of them had triumphed over incredible odds. Mirceo had pulled his weight and demonstrated that he could be an asset--

  Harea heaved. Vomit spewed from his lips onto the street. And still he didn't wake. Brows drawn, the sorcerer mumbled, "Dragon's breath. Apocalypse. Nightside is real."

  Mirceo chuckled. "I think we did that harem a favor. . . ." He trailed off when his breaths condensed into puffs of smoke. In this warm air? "Caspion?"

  The demon's alert gaze swept over their surroundings. "I see it."

  Mirceo stepped back to view the larger side street beyond this alleyway, his eyes going wide. A garbageman was poised with a can over his head, motionless, the truck's compactor suddenly silent. "Time's standing still." The driver had been pouring coffee out of his window--the fluid hung suspended in midair--when he'd been frozen in place.

  Caspion gave a curt nod, reaching for Mirceo. "Closer to me, vampire."

  Not a problem. He'd just traced to the demon's side when four males appeared. Wearing frayed black cloaks, the phantasms sat astride ghostly horses.

  The Gaolers.

  Hello, fodder of all future nightmares. They looked like skeletal reapers--at first glance. But then Mirceo realized their ragged faces had been tattooed to look like skulls. In places, inked flesh had peeled from actual bone. Both they and their mounts appeared to be decomposing. They had no eyeballs, but seemed to possess sight.

  Caspion sidled in front of Mirceo protectively--awww--and boldly announced, "We claim the bounty on this sorcerer, the King of Sand."

  At last Harea began to come to with a pained groan. Twisting on the ground, he slurred, "Where'm I?"

  May I never get that high. At least, not without Caspion to watch his back.

  Harea tried to rise, finally managing to sit upright. "The hell's going on?" Swinging his head toward Mirceo and Caspion, he said, "Who're you?" His bleary eyes were a golden color, shot through with red.

  Mirceo felt for the male. To go to sleep buried in trim, then wake to a capture and decomposing jailers? Harsh. "I'm Mirceo Daciano. My mate and I have captured you for the bounty. No hard feelings."

  "Can't be." Harea's head snapped toward the Gaolers. "No." Visible chill bumps arose over the sorcerer's dark skin. He grappled against the restraints. Light glowed in his palms, but the shackles deactivated his powers. Sobering swiftly, he faced Mirceo and Caspion again. "I'll kill you two for this! I'll destroy anything you care about and murder anyone you love." Lips drawn back from his teeth, he hissed, "I'll replace the blood in your veins with sand!"

  "Note to self"--Mirceo tapped his temple--"beware of the sand man."

  One of the Gaolers raised a putrefying hand. A drawstring coin bag materialized above his palm. Without a word, he dropped the clinking bag at Caspion's feet.

  Harea met Mirceo's eyes a last time. He mouthed, You're a dead man.

  The Gaolers--and the sorcerer--disappeared.

  Out in the side street, the garbage truck's compactor roared to life. Releasing a pent-up breath, Caspion sheathed his sword, then dipped to collect the coin bag. He hefted the weight, smiling at the metallic jingle.

  "That's what I'd call a no-nonsense transaction." The tension in Mirceo's knotted muscles faded. "We make a good team, demon."

  Caspion hiked his shoulders. "We completed a tough job."

  "Tough? You called it impossible, one of the longest-standing bounties in the Lore. You said no one could get close to that sorcerer. And so on and so forth."

  Caspion opened the bag and investigated the contents. "I'll be damned. It's real dragon gold."

  "I've never seen it before." Mirceo traced closer for a look. "It truly is red." The coins had been struck with the image of flames. "If neither of us needs the money, you should give these to your friend Bettina. Wouldn't a goldsmith like her enjoy it?"

  "She would go insane for this." All Sorceri worshipped gold, but Bettina doubly so. "You'd really give up your share for her?"

  "Of course."

  "I'm surprised you remember what I told you about her passion. You always seemed to be in your own little world whenever I opened up."

  "Because I was committing every word to memory."

  Surprise flashed in the demon's expression. "You . . . can't lie."

  "I told you I was interested in your mind. Your divine body and blood are simply the cherries on top."

  For long moments, Caspion stared at Mirceo. Seeming to make a decision, the demon said, "I think it's time to celebrate."

  TWENTY-TWO

  "DRINK!"

  At a crowded table inside the Red Flag, Cas and the vampire raised their cups, then emptied them.

  Earlier, when Cas had pinned the bounty parchment on the board for completed jobs, all the hunters had clamored to buy him and Mirceo rounds.

  For a few hours Cas had been able to forget his history with the prince and enjoy his company. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but tonight he'd been proud of Mirceo--as only a friend would be.

  Lie to yourself, Cas.

  To
the very fucking end.

  "Come on, vampire," said one of the demon hunters. "Divvy how you stole into the sorcerer's lair."

  These pros had been stunned to hear that Cas and Mirceo had taken out more than a hundred Wendigos. And that'd only been the first step.

  Mirceo cast them his arrogant, sexy-as-hell grin. "Trade secret." His words were slurred--because the vampire was drinking demon brew.

  That libation provided an even buzz, right up until the bomb of total drunkenness hit. Cas had begun monitoring his own consumption. In the past, one of them had always remained a touch more sober in case they ran into threats.

  Earlier, Cas had taken him outside, telling him, "You don't have to drink every time they toast us. And you sure as hell don't have to down brew. It gains on you with every drop."

  Mirceo had grazed his finger over Cas's collarbone, saying, "My aim is to impress your friends."

  He already had. "Color them impressed. Besides, Bettina is the only friend I care about, apart from you."

  "Are we friends?"

  "We could be, if you were content to remain that way."

  "Hmm." What did that mean? "Even after what happened in the cave?"

  He'd had no answer for that.

  "Admit it, demon. You're having fun with me. Just as we always used to."

  "I don't deny that." The vampire made life more exciting. Made each second taste better. If he was honest, Cas would admit this might be the best day of his life.

  Unequaled bounty. Unequaled pleasure.

  Unequaled mate? No! There was still hope for self-preservation. . . .

  "Can I tell them you're mine?" Mirceo had asked.

  "Sure you don't want to keep your options open, tulip?"

  Mirceo had grabbed Cas's balls.

  GULP. "Easy, vampire."

  Mirceo had given them a tug that sent Cas rocking to his toes. "I'd like to tell the world that these are mine. That all of you belongs to me."

  The vampire's show of possessiveness had been . . . thrilling.

  Now a lion shifter leaned in toward Mirceo and said, "At least tell us how you got past the sand scyllas." That shifter was irritatingly bewitched with the sophisticated prince.

  In fact, all of the rough-and-tumble hunters were, which made Cas's own possessiveness--already off the charts--spike even higher.

  Mirceo had pointed out that Cas's demonic temper would continue to grow more volatile. Too true.