was impossible to tell where one body began and the other ended.
I screamed and jerked away, causing the scene to shatter. I stumbled backward, too desperate to get away from the images to worry about dignity. I stared around frantically, but most of the vamps were still fixated on Mircea. A few spared me a puzzled glance, but none looked as if they had seen anything unusual, much less the gory death of one of their senior members. But there was no doubt in my mind what I'd witnessed. Somewhere, somewhen, Myra had succeeded.
It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice cubes into my stomach. My visions always came true-always. I'd tried to change the outcome of things before, especially when I was younger. I'd gone to Tony numerous times to report upcoming disasters, believing him when he swore he would do everything in his power to stop them. But, of course, the only thing he'd ever done was to figure out how to profit from them. And, in the end, everything had always happened exactly as I'd foreseen. The same held true for a vision I'd seen as an adult, when I tried to warn a friend of his impending assassination. I didn't know whether he'd received the message or not, but it hadn't mattered. He still died.
But all that was before I became Pythia, or, at least, her heir. I had changed things since then, hadn't I? And, if Myra had won, why was Mircea still here?
I finally focused on the Consul. I needed answers and Mircea was in no shape to give them to me. "What is going on? Is this a trick?" Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't. I'd had enough visions to know the real thing when I felt it.
The Consul's eyes narrowed to slits. "Do you play with me?" she demanded, so quietly that I hardly heard her.
I looked down at Tomas and drew in a sharp breath. I wasn't the one playing here. "I want Tomas," I said, more unsteadily than I liked. "You obviously want something, too. Tell me what it is and maybe we can make a trade.”
"You don't know." I finally saw emotion cross that lovely face. It was surprise.
Tomas made a small sound and I lost it. "Just tell me!" The vision had shattered my nerves, and I didn't feel like chatting while Tomas slowly bled out.
The Consul took a breath, which she didn't need, and nodded. "Very well. Remove the geis you placed on Lord Mircea, and I will give you the traitor.”
I goggled at her. "What?" Somewhere along the line, I'd missed something. "The only geis around here is the one he put on me! It's been causing me hell.”
"Hell?" Mircea laughed abruptly, but it was mirthless. "What do you know of hell?" He tore free of his living restraints and dropped to the floor. Two vamps dove under the table after him, but I never saw how close they came. All I know is, it wasn't close enough. I was suddenly crushed against a hard chest. "Try mine," he whispered before catching my lips in a bruising kiss.
The punch of his emotions came clearly through the geis, hitting me like a kick to the stomach. The same energy that arced between us whenever we met thrummed through Mircea, only it had grown. This was no vague frisson of passion. The craving had lain smoldering, waiting for the proper fuel, and now it ignited into a roaring blaze. It was like drowning in a river of molten lava. I felt it in his veins for an instant, pleasure as sharp as pain, before it poured into mine in a scalding wash of desire. I felt myself flounder, falling into heat, falling away from thought to a place that was all-consuming sensation. Fire. Sweet fire.
The kiss was hard and brutal, as if he would eat me alive. There was nothing gentle about it, nothing romantic. And it was just what I wanted. My hands closed convulsively on his shoulders, my nails digging into his coat. His mouth was relentless on mine, fierce and insistent, and a hard hand slid behind my head to hold me in place. One of his fangs nicked me and I tasted my own blood. He made a strangled cry and pulled back, his eyes wild, his face beautifully feral.
His tongue darted out to taste my blood on his lips; then his eyes closed and he shuddered. I ripped