Prince of Twilight by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page A

fact, that she woke from her lucid sleep to find him lying there, still inside her, on top of her, holding her, kissing her neck and licking at the wounds he’d left in her throat, even as he began moving again to rebuild the fire.
    Elisabeta came to fierce, fighting life, and Stormy barely had time to whisper “No” before she was gone. Her time with Vlad was over. The invader had driven her out.
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    When her nails raked his back, Vlad realized she had changed. No longer responding only to his mind’s suggestions, Tempest had instead taken control. She was moving frantically beneath him, making demands of her own, unspoken but clear in the movements of her body. He drew back to stare down at her, wondering how she had managed to escape the power of his mind, and he saw that her eyes were wide open and blazing…
    â€¦and jet-black.
    â€œTempest…”
    â€œShe’s gone. And I won’t let her come back. Not this time, Vlad. This body is mine.” Elisabeta wrapped her arms around his neck to draw him more deeply inside her.
    He drove once, twice, then closed his eyes and gave in to the passion that rose up in him. He was shaking with desire and need. And it didn’t matter who owned the body any more than it mattered who owned the blood that he needed to stay alive. He took what he needed from anyone he pleased. He always had. This was no different.
    And he took her. He took them. Elisabeta, Tempest, both of them. Neither would have turned him away. He wouldn’t have cared if either of them had.
    Harder and harder he rode her, until she was panting and gasping beneath him, her nails raking his back until the pain burned along every path she made, but it only enhanced his pleasure. The bed slammed against the wall with the force of his thrusts, and he pushed her still harder. He didn’t care if he hurt her.
    â€œElisabeta!” He growled her name as he spurted into her, holding her hard and mercilessly as he drove to even greater depths and then held there, pulsing, throbbing, into her.
    She grunted, perhaps in pain or maybe in pleasure. He couldn’t be sure and told himself it didn’tmatter. Slowly he eased himself out of her, but he didn’t lie there on the bed to embrace her. He got up. Got to his feet, began reaching for his clothes.
    â€œI’ve come back to you, Vlad,” Elisabeta whispered. She twisted in the bed like a contented cat, hugging the pillow, clutching the sheet. “And this time, it will be forever.”
    â€œIs she dead, then? Have you managed to evict her from the body without my help after all?”
    Beta thrust out her lower lip, sitting up in the bed. “Why do you care? I’m the one you love. I’m the one you’re meant to be with. Your wife, Vlad. I’m your wife.”
    â€œYou don’t have to remind me of that. I’ve been trying to find you again since you died, Elisabeta.”
    â€œBut I didn’t die,” she told him. “Not completely. Your magicians and your sorcerers wouldn’t let me die. They imprisoned my essence in some in-between state—they bound it to the ring. I couldn’t have moved on even had I wanted to. But I didn’t want to, Vlad. I didn’t want to leave you. And I haven’t.”
    She blinked those huge, dark eyes up at him, and he saw them fill with tears. “Vlad, why aren’t you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
    â€œIt’s all I’ve wanted,” he told her. He put on hisclothes, but she was still weeping, and he didn’t have it in him to turn a cold shoulder to her. Even as unused as he was to showing affection, he couldn’t remain cold. Not to her, not to his Elisabeta. He sank onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, holding her gently. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Beta. Nor stopped wishing you could return. But I have to know—is she dead?”
    She stared at him, and he knew,