“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 line. “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.
One of those dark eyebrows lifted in a very familiar gesture. “Why should I tell you? I know what you are. I try to be open-minded about these things, at least when the sorceress is young, pretty and thoughtfully wears so few clothes.” He ran a single finger up my spine, dancing lightly along the vertebrae. “You have less on every time we meet—I applaud the trend.” His words were light, but his eyes were intense on my face. “But however trying Augusta may be at times, her death would be more so.”
“Then help me prevent it!”
“But are you here to prevent it? You rescued a man who slipped us poison—”
“Someone else slipped it to you! He was trying to take it away!”
“—and will not even give me your name. Yet you ask for my trust.”
“If you think I’m an enemy, why rescue me? Why not let Dmitri do his worst?”
Mircea’s mouth curled into a predatory smile. “A show of strength is often useful on these occasions, and I do not care for the man. Dmitri’s tastes are well known, and I find them . . . displeasing. Depriving him of a prize was no hardship. ” His hand smoothed down the bow of my back, and my spine turned liquid. “Now, little witch, you are going to tell me what you are doing here, and explain some very curious events at the theatre two nights ago.”
I stared at him, my mind blank. The truth was impossible if I had any hope of not messing up the timeline more than it already was, but he would smell a lie before I finished getting the words out. There was only one possibility that might work. “Take me to Augusta, and I’ll think about it.” When he hesitated, I forced a laugh. “The great Mircea, afraid of an unarmed girl!”
His lips quirked upward with slow mirth. After a moment, his expression slipped into a true grin, one that made him look years younger. He raised my hand and kissed the palm. “You are quite correct, of course. What is life without a taste of danger?” He tucked my arm into his. “Come, let us see what Augusta can make of you.”
Despite the crowded ballroom, Augusta was not difficult to find. She and another female vamp, a petite brunette, had commandeered a spot on the other side of the room and cleared a space on the floor. A crowd had gathered around them, laughing and calling out encouragement, although I couldn’t see the attraction. The two vampires appeared merely to be standing in the middle of the circle.
We stopped by the vamp in the toga. “Your Augusta is making herself very popular,” he observed.
Mircea looked pained. “She is not my Augusta,” he murmured, and the vamp laughed. He’d seemed plain before, with flyaway brown hair that looked like he went to Pritkin’s barber and a wind-chapped complexion. But laughter changed the face entirely, adding animation to the whiskey-colored eyes and charm to the expression. When he laughed, he was handsome.
“That’s not what she says.”
“As you should know better than anyone, Consul, some women are prone to exaggeration . . . and fits of temper.”
“The more passionate ones,” he agreed. “Although they are frequently worth the trouble. Speaking of passionate shrews, how is your Consul?”
“She is well. I wondered that you did not ask before.”
“Your news fair drove all else from my mind.”
“Shall I tell her so?”
That produced another chuckle. “Only if you wish to incite a war, my friend.” The vampire hadn’t so much as glanced at me, which I’d assumed was due to my status as party snack. But his eyes suddenly slid in my direction. “And who is this? Are you beginning a collection of dainty blondes, Mircea?”
The Consul smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Mircea’s grip tightened a fraction. “Are we not permitted to bring guests, Consul?”
“Guests, yes. As long as they are one of us, or human.”
He tilted my chin up with a finger. Something shifted behind his eyes, a killer peeking out from behind the jovial mask. “Very pretty. And very powerful. You will answer for her actions, of course.”
Mircea bowed slightly and the Consul left to work the room, chatting and talking, back to charming in a blink. I repressed a shiver. “They don’t seem to like magic users here,” I said weakly.
“They can complicate matters. Different precautions must be taken than are needed for our people.”
“I’m surprised he let me stay, then.”
“You caught him in a good mood. Augusta and I recently removed a problem for him.”
“I’m not planning to cause any trouble,” I assured him fervently. Mircea just looked at me, a wry quirk to his lips. “I’m not!”
“Why would I doubt you? Merely because the first time we met, I was almost poisoned, and the second, I came very close to a duel?” His smile broadened. “Fortunately, I don’t mind trouble. If, as the Consul said, the reward is worth it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that so we watched the women for a while. I still couldn’t tell what they were doing, possibly because they had their backs to us. The brunette was in pale blue, the icy color embellished with too much lace, but Augusta wore a gorgeous off-the-shoulder champagne satin gown with a gold and cream brocade train. I might not like her, but there was no question that she knew how to dress. The full skirts blocked my view for a moment; then something tore through the middle of them, coming straight at me.
“Oh, no! He’s loose!” Augusta’s voice rang out over the room, shaking with laughter. A wild-eyed, naked creature scrabbled on hands and knees for the edge of the circle, leaving a trail of droplets behind him. They were black and oily looking against the deep green. Right before he could reach me, something snapped his head back, throwing him twitching onto his side.
Augusta had a leash in her hand as she walked towards him, one end of which was looped around his neck. He lay on his back, quivering in terror, as she stood over him. “Up,” she said impatiently, tugging on the leash.
It forced his chin up, and I got a glimpse of his face through a snarl of greasy black hair. His mouth worked with pain, then tightened into a rictus of rage, distorting his features beyond recognition. But I knew those beetle black eyes. I’d seen them in more than a few nightmares.
“Jack,” I whispered, and he stared up at me blindly.