stomach and made my toes curl. I heard myself groan into his mouth, my entire body leaping at his touch, and suddenly a kiss wasn’t enough. I wanted to taste all of him, to learn the texture and sensitivity of every inch of flesh.
But that was exactly what I couldn’t do. If I wanted any chance of making up with the Circle, I had to avoid things that might increase their distaste for me. Like rumors connecting me to a Senate member.
The North American Vampire Senate was one of six sovereign bodies that ruled the world’s vampire population the way the Circle did the mages. It and the Circle were currently allies, but it was a new association that had done little to erase centuries of dislike and mistrust. The Circle viewed a Pythia who was out of their control as bad enough; one under the thumb, or so they believed, of the vampires was a worst-case scenario.
Unless it was a Pythia dating a senator, that is.
Not that Mircea and I were dating. In fact, I’d been studiously avoiding him lately. Add lingering traces of a childhood infatuation, a powerful devotion spell that had only recently been lifted and a guy who even non-bespelled women went stupid over, and what did you get? A mess.
I knew what I felt for Mircea, but I wasn’t sure why; even worse, I didn’t have any idea what he felt for me. While under the spell, he’d been genuinely infatuated. But with it no longer in the picture, I had to wonder what attraction I would hold for a five-hundred-year-old master vampire if I wasn’t the reigning Pythia and we weren’t in the middle of a war.
Until I found out, I didn’t want my heartbeat to pick up speed every time I thought of him. I didn’t want to feel that smile, lazy and suggestive and full of promise, when he kissed me; didn’t want to smell the intoxicating scent of his neck under his shirt collar, to taste his sweat and hear his voice break. I didn’t want to want.
“Dulceaţă , ” Mircea said quietly, using the pet name he’d given me as a child, meaning “dear one.” And despite everything, that word in that voice made my heart give a little start behind my ribs.
It didn’t matter what my heart said, I reminded myself. My heart told me stupid stuff all the time. My heart should just shut the hell up.
“Come back to MAGIC with me,” Mircea murmured, his hands finding the muscles of my neck and beginning to expertly knead away the tension. I told my body not to respond and it obeyed as well as it ever did when it came to Mircea—not at all. “My personal apartment is extensive. You can have your own room”—he nipped me lightly on the neck—“if you want it.”
“I don’t like MAGIC,” I told him unsteadily, turning away. I lost the thong and submerged myself in the tub.
“It’s the safest place for you,” he said lightly.
MAGIC, short for the Metaphysical Alliance for Greater Interspecies Cooperation, was the supernatural community’s version of the United Nations, allowing mages, vampires, Weres and even the Fey—when they bothered to show up—to talk out their difficulties. It had some of the strongest wards anywhere, powered by a potent energy source known as a ley line sink. Mircea was right—it was the safest place around.
For anyone not fighting a god, that is.
“There is no safe place for me,” I told him shortly, searching around under the bubbles for my loofah.
“Not if you continue to evade the protections placed around you.” Mircea pushed his sleeve up and plunged his arm into the almost scalding water, finding the loofah easily. He turned me around and began to wash my back in long, soothing strokes. I tried not to relax—I knew damn well what he was up to—but my body had other ideas. When he zeroed in on the knot at the small of my back, I couldn’t bite back a groan.
He finished my back and pulled me against him. He abandoned the loofah, lathered his hands with soap and began to wash my shoulders and arms. “You’ll ruin your
But that was exactly what I couldn’t do. If I wanted any chance of making up with the Circle, I had to avoid things that might increase their distaste for me. Like rumors connecting me to a Senate member.
The North American Vampire Senate was one of six sovereign bodies that ruled the world’s vampire population the way the Circle did the mages. It and the Circle were currently allies, but it was a new association that had done little to erase centuries of dislike and mistrust. The Circle viewed a Pythia who was out of their control as bad enough; one under the thumb, or so they believed, of the vampires was a worst-case scenario.
Unless it was a Pythia dating a senator, that is.
Not that Mircea and I were dating. In fact, I’d been studiously avoiding him lately. Add lingering traces of a childhood infatuation, a powerful devotion spell that had only recently been lifted and a guy who even non-bespelled women went stupid over, and what did you get? A mess.
I knew what I felt for Mircea, but I wasn’t sure why; even worse, I didn’t have any idea what he felt for me. While under the spell, he’d been genuinely infatuated. But with it no longer in the picture, I had to wonder what attraction I would hold for a five-hundred-year-old master vampire if I wasn’t the reigning Pythia and we weren’t in the middle of a war.
Until I found out, I didn’t want my heartbeat to pick up speed every time I thought of him. I didn’t want to feel that smile, lazy and suggestive and full of promise, when he kissed me; didn’t want to smell the intoxicating scent of his neck under his shirt collar, to taste his sweat and hear his voice break. I didn’t want to want.
“Dulceaţă , ” Mircea said quietly, using the pet name he’d given me as a child, meaning “dear one.” And despite everything, that word in that voice made my heart give a little start behind my ribs.
It didn’t matter what my heart said, I reminded myself. My heart told me stupid stuff all the time. My heart should just shut the hell up.
“Come back to MAGIC with me,” Mircea murmured, his hands finding the muscles of my neck and beginning to expertly knead away the tension. I told my body not to respond and it obeyed as well as it ever did when it came to Mircea—not at all. “My personal apartment is extensive. You can have your own room”—he nipped me lightly on the neck—“if you want it.”
“I don’t like MAGIC,” I told him unsteadily, turning away. I lost the thong and submerged myself in the tub.
“It’s the safest place for you,” he said lightly.
MAGIC, short for the Metaphysical Alliance for Greater Interspecies Cooperation, was the supernatural community’s version of the United Nations, allowing mages, vampires, Weres and even the Fey—when they bothered to show up—to talk out their difficulties. It had some of the strongest wards anywhere, powered by a potent energy source known as a ley line sink. Mircea was right—it was the safest place around.
For anyone not fighting a god, that is.
“There is no safe place for me,” I told him shortly, searching around under the bubbles for my loofah.
“Not if you continue to evade the protections placed around you.” Mircea pushed his sleeve up and plunged his arm into the almost scalding water, finding the loofah easily. He turned me around and began to wash my back in long, soothing strokes. I tried not to relax—I knew damn well what he was up to—but my body had other ideas. When he zeroed in on the knot at the small of my back, I couldn’t bite back a groan.
He finished my back and pulled me against him. He abandoned the loofah, lathered his hands with soap and began to wash my shoulders and arms. “You’ll ruin your
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