Cassandra Palmer 1(73)
Tomas licked his lips. «It was not frequent, Cassie. I had to know where you were at all times, and regular feedings create a bond. They helped me keep you safe.»
«How very generous of you.» I could barely get the words out; it felt like someone had hit me.
I started to rise—I'm not sure why—when Mircea put a restraining hand on my shoulder. His expression was suddenly serious, as if he realized something of how much the news had affected me. «You have every right to be annoyed with Tomas, dulceata, but now is not the time. It is my fault; I shouldn't have teased him. I will refrain, if you will please let it go for the moment. Otherwise we will waste the day in arguments.»
«I don't want to argue,» I said, and it was true. I wanted to throw something at Tomas' head, preferably something heavy. But that wouldn't get me answers, and right then, I needed information more than revenge. «Fine. Just get him away from me.»
«Done. Tomas, if you please?» Tomas looked like he was going to argue, but after a noticeable pause he moved off about two feet. Then he stopped, looking mulish. I would have pushed the issue, but he would only have said that he needed to be close to watch Pritkin. Since I tended to agree with that, I kept quiet.
Mircea sighed and cupped my face again. He didn't prolong it this time. His fingers gently stroked down my chin to my neck, and I could feel his power calling to me. His caress was delicate, barely a touch at all, but I shivered as a warm surge of pleasure danced through my body, driving away some of the shock I felt at Tomas' actions. My skin tingled and a mist of sparkling, delicious energy rose between us. I suddenly knew whose wards Billy Joe had broken earlier, whose power we had borrowed to fight off the attack at Dante's. This was the same giddy, bubbling, champagne-on-ice sensation I'd felt at the casino, a heady mix of desire and laughter and warmth that was almost instantly addictive. I knew I should be aggravated about the wards he'd put on my power, but no one could have bathed in that feeling and stayed angry. It was simply impossible. It poured over me like sunlight given form, and I laughed in wonder.
Mircea started when our energies mingled, then went very still. I barely noticed. I was happily drowning in a glorious, golden glow. It felt as though he was touching something far more intimate than my neck and, for a second, I actually thought that my robe had disappeared and a warm hand was caressing all the way down my body. I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry and a pulse began to throb insistently in tender places. I flashed on a long-ago evening, Mircea and I curled up together on the divan in Tony's study, him stroking my hair as he told me a story. I'd spent more time with him on that visit than Tony had, half of it snuggled in his lap, but I'd never reacted this way. Of course, I'd been eleven. Sitting on his lap now took on a completely new connotation.
Mircea was wearing an odd expression, almost confused, as if he'd never seen me before. He searched my face for a moment, then took my hand and bowed over it. I felt a brief touch of lips, then he released me and stepped back. The whole thing had taken maybe ten seconds, but it left me breathless, flushed and momentarily heartbroken, like the most precious thing in my life had been snatched away. I almost reached for him but managed to stop before I humiliated myself. I sat there, trying to lower my pulse back to something approaching normal, and stared at him.
I'd forgotten how much more personal vamp feedings were than what Billy did. I hadn't thought about that aspect with Mircea, a fact that amazed me now. He had the charisma for which his family was famous, his power was great enough for him to win and hold a Senate seat and there was no denying his masculine beauty. I had, of course, never met Dracula, who died long before I was born, or the unfortunate Radu, but looking at Mircea, I could understand why the family had become legendary. If you met one of them, you weren't likely to forget it, no matter what tricks were used to fog the memory.
I looked up to see Tomas scowling, his eyes moving back and forth between Mircea and me. What was his problem now? It was over. Then I glanced at my reflection and saw that my eyes had lost focus, I was rosy and my lips were half parted. I looked like I'd just had really good sex, which was not far from the truth. I quickly rearranged my face to look less like afterglow.
Pritkin appeared let down, as if he'd have liked to see something that caused pain, not pleasure. «I don't believe you fed. You didn't take blood; you never even broke the skin.»
«On the contrary,» Mircea adjusted his collar in an almost nervous gesture. «That was a feeding, if a very mild one.» He glanced at Tomas as if he was going to say something, then decided against it. He suddenly turned a wolfish smile on Pritkin. «Raphael will demonstrate it for you, if you like.»