Claimed by Shadow

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 i

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 begi

"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.”