Shadow's Seduction(3)

Tonight this deliciously dominant male had given Mirceo two things no one else here would dare: a refusal and an order. Mirceo found his lack of deference . . . thrilling. “Straight down to business, then? Am I such loathsome company that you can’t wait to get out of my clutches?” I need to clutch those bronzed pecs. While nuzzling the golden chest hair between them. “Very well, demon, I want to know what you were thinking about in that orgy. You certainly didn’t have your mind on your partners.”

Tension stole over his broad shoulders. “I heard no complaints.”

Sensitive, sweetheart? “Indeed not. That’s part of my interest. Though your thoughts were a million leagues away, you wrung orgasms from those females like juice from grapes.” He’d been all-alpha, calling the shots—as Mirceo himself always did.

“Sometimes my mind wanders during sex.” When Caspion rubbed his nape, Mirceo’s attention flicked from the demon’s bulging bicep to the sexy blond hair of his armpit. “How long were you watching me?”

“Long enough to grow intrigued.” Mirceo met his gaze. “I must know what you were contemplating.”

“I’m not used to revealing private details to strangers.” He took a generous swig of his drink, blue eyes growing stormy.

Gods, those eyes. I want to look up into them as I take his shaft between my lips. Mirceo stilled at the thought. He’d never been the one on his knees—he was a prince, after all—but he might sample a cock if it belonged to Caspion. Perhaps I should get pointers from the demoness server? “Shall I go first?” he asked. “Will you trust me if I tell you details from my own life?”

“Depends on what you share.”

“Very well.” Lowering his tone—one of Mirceo’s most foolproof seduction weapons was his raspy, accented voice—he murmured, “I come from a fabled realm that few outsiders have ever seen.” Hidden within a mountain, the kingdom of Dacia spreads beneath a soaring cavern. “Considered a vampire’s paradise, it’s filled with riches.” Blood runs in fountains, fog wisps over cobblestone streets, and a giant diamond in the highest part of the cavern filters the sun. “My kind have abilities that other vampires do not.” We can turn into mist and levitate. “I’m forbidden to leave my kingdom without the permission of a gatekeeper—yet I do leave, often.” Because the gatekeeper likes his blood mead a little too well. “Though I’m to stay hidden in mist, unseen by anyone outside of our realm—I am seen by others, regularly.”

If one departed Dacia without permission, he could never trace home, and memories of the kingdom’s location would fade. But I found ways around that.

The demon’s lids were half-masted. He looked as if he could have listened to Mirceo speak for eternity. “Is your father the king?”

“We have no king at present.” Even over the smells of hot springs and sex, Mirceo caught a thread of Caspion’s natural scent—a heady blend that called to mind raindrops and leather. As one who hailed from a realm with no rain, Mirceo found the demon’s scent as exotic as it was tantalizing.

Caspion took a deep drink. “If you’re a prince, why haven’t you taken the throne?”

“Others in my family have as much claim as I. The situation is fraught. There’s another who could rule us—the rightful heir.” Lothaire the Enemy of Old, a three-thousand-year-old vampire. “But his eyes are red.” He was half Horde, half Dacian.

“From bloodlust.”

“Indeed.” Mirceo sipped his chalice. “He’s crazed with it. In my particular kingdom, drinking from the flesh is considered a heinous taboo. Naturally I fantasize about it without cease.” Caspion’s pulse point drew his gaze, and the demon noticed, swallowing thickly. “My relatives and I have agreed to think on the matter and decide soon.” Mirceo would vote to install Lothaire without hesitation. Nothing could shatter Dacia’s blood-taking taboo like a red-eyed king. “Are you satisfied with my details?”

Caspion nodded. His drink seemed to be hitting him. He must be unused to the potency of expensive vintages. “My oldest friend—a Sorceri/demon halfling—was assaulted by a gang of Vrekeners.” Eyes flickering black with emotion, he said, “The attack was more vicious than anything I’ve ever seen; she barely survived. For sixty days, I sat at her bedside while she recovered. For sixty nights, I set out into the worlds to hunt her assailants.” She sounds like more than a friend. “I’m a bounty hunter by trade, but those winged fiends are hidden from me, their floating lair constantly moving. Today I was ordered off the search.”