And then I was back, clinging to strong, bare shoulders, fingers slipping on sweat-slicked skin. Even to someone used to the abrupt way visions came and went, it was a bit of a jolt. Especially since Mircea was still feeding, and it was still amazing.
I’d never felt this connected, this anchored, this close to anyone, and I wanted it to go on forever. Only that’s what it seemed to be doing, I realized after a moment. Despite the fact that my heart was thundering in my ears and little spots were swimming in front of my eyes and my breath was coming in strangled gasps, he wasn’t stopping.
“Let go, Mircea,” I said as clearly as I could, considering the fangs in my throat. Nothing happened, unless you counted the tightening of his hand on my hip, fever-hot even through the material. “Mircea! Unless you plan to kill me, let go!”
I pushed as hard as I could, not caring at that moment if the movement tore my neck, just wanting him off. My hands were at an awkward angle on his shoulders and my strength was no match for his, but something about the action seemed to get through. He stopped.
I could feel the hesitation in him, need warring with whatever reason he had left, and for a long moment I really didn’t know which would win. Then slowly, as if he were moving underwater, he pulled back, his teeth sliding out of me cleanly.
“Cassie…” He looked dazed, and his voice was rough and cracked a bit at the edges. “I thought you were a dream.”
I stared at him dizzily. “I think maybe I am.”
He stared at me, swallowing harshly, the feverish glitter of his eyes even brighter, like an addict who has had a fix. “Then my dreams are improving.”
I kissed him, a quick tangling of tongues, heat and softness. “We’re working on a solution.”
“I know.” He paused and looked around the room, as if he was expecting to see someone or something. When he didn’t, he fell back, a shudder shivering through him as he pulled away.
“You know? How?” The only answer was the tightening of his muscles under my hands.
He closed his eyes, blocking out my face. “You must go, Cassie.”
It was good advice, but it made no sense that Mircea was giving it to me. I knew why I was doing my best to avoid completing the geis, but he had no reason to do so. It would get him out of his current torment and gain him a valuable servant. There was no downside.
“You don’t want to complete the geis?” I asked slowly, sure I was missing something.
“No.” His fists clenched in the sheets, hard enough that the knuckles showed white. “I want you to leave!”
“I don’t understand—” I touched his shoulder, not thinking, my own mind still muddied from the spell, and he flinched like I’d slapped him. He jerked away from me, all the way to the other side of the bed, and sat there facing the wall. “Go, Cassie! Please.”
“Yes, all right.” Something weird was definitely going on, but I didn’t have time to figure it out. There was a crack like a gunshot, and I jumped, then realized that no one was shooting at me. The hand Mircea had curled around the huge bedpost had snapped it in two like a twig.
In the next heartbeat, I was flying, the room swallowed by darkness behind me. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision, and when I looked again I was back in the bar. The bartender gave a sudden start at the sight of me and fled to the back room.
I stared blankly after him, then caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bottled liquors. It reflected wide eyes, flushed cheeks and a kiss-swollen mouth. I put a hand to my neck, and it came b
ack red. I stared at the blood on my palm, and tried to say something. I failed.
Rafe handed me a napkin and I pressed it to my throat, Mircea’s kiss still throbbing on my lips. Already, the lack of his touch was a fierce ache behind my ribs, as if he’d left fingerprints on something deeper than skin. “Now do you understand?” Rafe asked softly.
I slowly nodded. That had been no vision. I’d unconsciously shifted, straight to Mircea’s side. And if I’d lost that much control, how much worse must it be for him? The geis wouldn’t kill him, I realized; it would drive him mad. And to stop hunger like that, sooner or later a person would pay any price.
Even take his own life.
Chapter 5
Crystal Gazing is not the supernatural community’s most respected journalistic voice. Its tagline, “All the news that’s not fit to print,” pretty much says it all. But, once in a while, its scandal-hunting reporters turn up a story that the more respectable papers reject as mere rumor. And even more rarely, that rumor turns out to be true.
But so far, although there was a lot of speculation about the identity of the new Pythia, no one had managed to come up with my name. It was only a matter of time, but I was grateful for any reprieve. And the lack of new information had allowed juicier stories to bump that one to the back pages. Today’s screaming headline concerned an unknown woman who’d been raiding the Circle’s facilities, although as usual, the article was short on facts and long on terms like “vixen vigilante” and “fetching fanatic.” I silently wished her luck. Her activities might account for why no one had yet managed to track me down.
My break was over, so I stuck the rag in my locker, getting ready to go back to work. My current time-killing activity involved Casanova’s never-ending search for new ways to make a buck. He’d somehow conned an up-and-coming fashion designer into renting one of the overpriced shops in the gallery. Part of the deal had been space for a fashion show at the beginning of each new season, along with the services of the showgirls as models and enough casino grunts to handle the heavy lifting. I, of course, was one of the grunts.
A pretty brunette was at the locker next to mine, and we paused to size up each other’s outfit. Hers consisted of a lot of corpse-like paint, a necklace of skulls and a skirt composed of withered arms. They’d been cut off at the elbow, so they formed a miniskirt effect, and were moving around just enough to be creepy.
“Zombie,” she told me, fixing her lipstick in the mirror on the inside of her locker.
“I beg your pardon?”