Claimed By Shadow

Page 47

Tomas looked both surprised and vastly relieved, his breath coming out in a hiss of pleasure. He got the idea, and began to pick up speed. My hips shifted and began to rotate of their own accord as Tomas set up a slow circular motion, caressing, pleasuring, and stretching simultaneously.
I soon found that I couldn't control the sounds I was making. I was burning up, scored by sensation, sobbing with it. I was lightheaded and my breath was coming faster and my hips were bucking and my sight was going dark. A thundering sensation was building inside me and, before I even realized what was happening, orgasm was spilling over me, my body spasming helplessly under Tomas' steady rhythm. A lovely, yellow glow suddenly suffused the room, a color so pure, so lush, that it seemed as if happiness had been condensed and given form. For a moment, I thought it was all part of the sensations running through me, but it kept building, drowning out the lamplight as if a small star had burst to life around us. Wildly twining filaments of white and gold energy sizzled and writhed everywhere, building in intensity until, like grounded lightning, they blinded me.
Without warning, the world fell away. I was plunged into a maelstrom of sights and sounds and colors, all swirling together far too quickly to follow. I couldn't sense Tomas, couldn't see him or even feel him. A vortex was rushing towards me at terrific speed, and I was powerless to do anything but let it come.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. When the afterimages faded enough for me to see again, I found myself alone on a hill, looking up at a temple. Behind it, an ocean sparkled under a hot yellow sun. I felt the brush of lips on my neck and heard a rumble of rich masculine laughter in my ear.
"I approve of my avatar," a voice said. I knew it came from the man behind me, but it seemed to echo from all directions at once, as if the temple, sky and ocean were also speaking. "The son of another of my priestesses—really, a nice touch.”
I blinked, dizzy and disbelieving, but the scene stayed the same. "Your what?" I finally croaked.
"The man chosen for the ceremony becomes my avatar for a time. His union with the heir consummates our marriage and confirms her in office.”
I choked. "I am not your wife!”
That laughter bubbled again, rich and infectious. "Do not be afraid, Herophile. It's a spiritual union—you could not withstand me in my physical form.”
"I'm not afraid," I said, and it was true. Compared to the visions I usually got, this one was a walk in the park. So far. 'And my name is Cassandra.”
"Not anymore.”
I tried to turn around, but strong arms held me tight. They were the color of spring pollen, a bright true yellow that sparkled as if dusted with gold. The light danced over his skin the way it does on water, so dazzling that it hurt my eyes. It should have looked extremely strange on a human body, but somehow it didn't. Suddenly the surroundings made more sense.
"You don't miss a cliché, do you?”
"Your mind chooses how to perceive me," he chided. "If there are clichés, they are yours.”
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"One who has waited long ages for someone like you. At last, things will begin to happen.”
"What things?”
"You will see. I have great faith in you.”
"Then you're crazy," I told him flatly. "I don't know how to use this power you've stuck me with, and Myra's going to kill me any minute now.”
"I sincerely hope not. As for the other, the power goes where it will. Once I gave it into human hands, I lost control.”
"But Myra—”
"Yes, for now, you must deal with your rival. We will speak again when that is done.”
"But that's the point! I don't know how to—" I never got to finish the sentence. There was an outpouring of heat and a rush of wind, and all around me surged a terrible, ancient power that rumbled through the ground and sent currents sizzling along my entire body. Then I was back in the cell, blinking in the suddenly dim light, unsure what had just happened.
Tomas had let himself go, and the sensations he was causing caught my breath in my throat and drove the questions from my mind. He pulled me closer to his chest, and I gasped as the length inside me shifted. His sweat-damp hair fell around me, and his teeth latched onto my throat. I felt my whole body constrict at the bite, and heard Tomas' pleased growl as my inner muscles tightened around him. Large hands gripped my hips, driving him into me as far as he could go. He released my throat without feeding, tongue swiping once along the abrasion; then his hips began pumping faster, his face slack with need, and I lost all ability to think for long minutes.
He finished inside me in a delicious rush that felt scorching next to the lingering bits of ice at my center. It ate that cold, consumed it, burnt the final vestiges of it away and filled me up with a heated languor that spread throughout my body. My own pleasure was less overpowering now, but deeper, more persistent and sweet. I felt boneless with Tomas draped over me like the best of heaters.
After a long moment, Tomas pulled back to gaze into my half-closed eyes. He searched my expression, but whatever he was looking for, he didn't seem to find. He kissed me anyway, and I arched into the sensual heat of his mouth, feeling somewhat bereft when he ended the contact too soon. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his thumb tracing my lower lip.
I smoothed one of his fine, dark eyebrows with a finger. "What's wrong?”
He took my face between his hands and gently kissed my forehead. "It's all right, Cassie. It will be all right.”
"What will?" My afterglow was fast disappearing.
Tomas hesitated, then let his breath out in a sigh. "I can still feel the geis around you, like a cloud." His jaw tightened. "It seems Mircea does not wish to release his claim.”
I shook my head. "There was a complication with the spell. Mircea couldn't remove it, either." I'd known this was a possibility, but it was still a crushing disappointment.
Tomas started to say something else, but the door suddenly swung inward and there was Françoise, hands on hips, looking impatient. She tossed a bundle of clothes at me. "It's about time! It's supposed to be a ritual, not a marathon.”
I scrambled to my feet, shivering in air that felt cold against my flushed skin. "What?”
"Well, come on! Get dressed! The king wants an audience, and he doesn't wait well. Piss him off, and none of us are getting out of here.”
"Françoise?" I was getting a very bad feeling about this. The accent was suddenly gone, and the look on her face didn't remind me much of the French girl's usual nervousness.
She smiled grimly. "Françoise isn't home right now. Can I take a message?" Before I could come up with an answer to that, she grimaced and clutched the wall, her fingers clawed and white with strain, as if they were trying to dig into the stone. "Damn it! Not now, girl! Do you want to stay here forever?”
Tomas was looking back and forth between the two of us, but I could only shake my head at him. I had no idea what was wrong with her. "Um, Françoise," I finally said, as she began to vibrate as if her finger were stuck in a socket. "Is there something we can ... do for you?”
She suddenly stopped, stock-still, and stared at me, impatience flooding her features. "Yes! You can get dressed! How many times do I have to say it?”
I was cold without Tomas' body heat, so I decided to humor her. The dress was too large, and stiff with embroidery, but the dark red wool was warm. I decided that my best bet was to concentrate on one problem at a time, and Françoise's mental glitches weren't even close to top of the list.
"Françoise, do you have friends here? People who would help you?”
She narrowed her eyes. "Why?”
"It's Tomas.... If he leaves Faerie, he'll be killed. He can't go back, but he can't stay in this place, waiting to be executed, either. Do you know someone who can hide him?”
"Cassie." Tomas touched my elbow. "What are you doing?”
"I need to know that you're safe. What if the king orders us deported back to MAGIC? If you return, they'll kill you!" The Consul had offered me his life, but only in return for information I didn't have. I hadn't meant to place the geis on Mircea, and I certainly couldn't lift it.
"And if you go before the king without me, he may blame you for my escape. I won't endanger you further," Tomas said flatly. I would have argued, but the set of his jaw told me it would be a waste of time. Besides, Françoise was looking apoplectic.
"You're worried about a vampire... now, of all times?" She shook her head. "Cassie, he was a means to an end, that's all. He served his purpose; let him look after himself. They're pretty good at that, you know.”
Okay, that clinched it. There was more going on here than Françoise having a fit. "You want to tell me who you are right now? Because I never told Françoise my name. Not to mention that she only used to speak French.”
"We don't have time for this!”
I sat on the bunk and looked at her mulishly. "I'm not going anywhere until I know who you are and what is going on." I'd had about enough of flying by the seat of my pants. The past week had taught me the hard way that I sucked at it.
She threw up her hands in an oddly familiar gesture. Somewhere, I'd seen someone use that movement in the same way, but it eluded me. "I told you once you'd be either the best of us all or the very worst. Want to bet which way I'm leaning?”
It took a few seconds to sink in, and even when it did, I didn't believe it. "Agnes? What... what the hell are you doing in there?”
"Existing," she said bitterly. "Some afterlife.”
"But... but... I didn't know you could even do possessions! The mages said—”
"Right. Like we tell them everything!" She put her hands back on her hips in another eerily familiar gesture. "The less the Circle knows about our abilities, the better! Did you really believe you could do it and I couldn't?”