Claimed By Shadow by Karen Chance Read Free Book Online

dress to an impossibly small waist, then disappeared, I assume so it wouldn’t detract from the fortune in diamonds she wore draped around her slim throat and clipped into her golden curls. I glanced at her lovely blue eyes, narrowed in distaste as she regarded me, and quickly looked away. It isn’t a good idea to stare a vampire in the eyes for long, and that is unquestionably what she was.
    I scrambled to my feet and got another shock. I almost fell again—only Tony would be sadistic enough to make waitresses wear three-inch heels—and a hand reached out to steady me. A very familiar hand.
    Like the woman, her escort was obviously dressed for evening, in a black swallowtail coat over a low-cut vest, white shirt and white bowtie. His highly polished shoes shone more than his understated jewelry—plain gold cufflinks that matched the clip holding his hair in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The discreet accessories didn’t surprise me—Mircea has never liked showy clothes. What threw me was the abrupt, overwhelming sense of joy that spread over me as soon as our eyes met.
    I was suddenly struck by the sheer masculine beauty of him. He was so gracefully made that I caught my breath, all long limbs and elegant lines, like a dancer or a long-distance runner—or what he was, the product of noble blood going back for generations. Only one feature didn’t fit that picture: his mouth was not the thin-lipped aristocratic version, but had the full, beautifully sculpted lips of a sensualist.
    Maybe there had been more peasant stock in the gene pool than the family would admit, people who might not have had the airs and graces of their lords, but who knew how to laugh and dance and drink with a passion the aristocrats had forgotten. Dracula was supposed to have been the one born of a fiery gypsy girl, but I’d sometimes wondered whether the old rumors had gotten things mixed up, and instead it was Mircea who had Romany blood. If so, it suited him.
    His hand was under my elbow in a light, impersonal touch, but for some reason it made my whole arm tingle. I tried to sense the geis Casanova had talked about, but nothing registered. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn there was no spell to find.
    I realized vaguely that my hands had begun smoothing the thick silk of Mircea’s waistcoat. It was crimson with red dragons embroidered on it and seemed a little flashy for him, although the tone on tone made the designs almost invisible unless the light hit them just right. The embroidery was smooth against my fingertips, a beautiful, intricate design. I could even see the tiny scales on the dragons. Then my wandering hands discovered something more interesting, the faint prick of nipples, barely discernable under several layers of fabric.
    My fingertips traced them delicately, my whole body vibrating with pleasure from that small sensation. Being near Mircea caused none of the mind-numbing effects of Casanova’s attempt at seduction. I could have pulled away; I just couldn’t think of anything I wanted less.
    Mircea also wasn’t going anywhere. He just stood there, looking bemused, but the hand on my arm began pulling me gently towards him.
    I went willingly, lost in admiration for the way the gas light gleamed in his hair, and a thrumming energy suddenly ran up my arm. It hit my shoulder, then dove back down to jump from my fingertips like electricity. Mircea jerked slightly as the sensation hit him, but he did not let go. The feeling echoed back and forth, holding the two of us in a loop of sensation that made the hairs on my arm stand up and my body tighten.
    The dark eyes examined me as slowly and thoroughly as I had inspected him. The sensation of that gaze made me shiver, and Mircea’s eyebrow climbed a fraction at my reaction. His hand moved to the small of my back but encountered only the tough frame of the corset. His touch slid down to the curve of my hip, his fingers splaying over the thin satin of my shorts