Karen Chance - Claimed by Shadow

"Cassie, no!" It sounded tight, like he was forcing the word out. He put both hands on my upper arms, holding me away from him, but they trembled, and the strong column of his throat worked in a silent swallow. He was fighting the geis, I finally realized, but I couldn't help him. His hands moved up to cradle my head, smoothing my hair. The pain and pleasure together were devastating. My body was wracked by alternating surges of agony and ecstasy, and my pulse roared so loudly in my ears that I could hardly hear.

Just when I thought I would tip over the brink into insanity, the energy flared and reformed into something completely new-a sparkling brilliance, like water under a desert sun. It broke over us like a tidal wave, and the pain was simply gone. In its place was an overwhelming sense of relief, followed by a rush of pure joy. I saw the astonishment in Mircea's eyes as it broke over him, too.

I realized abruptly that more tears were streaming down my face. It wasn't from memory of the pain, but from how good, how safe I felt being near him. It was every dream I'd ever had rolled up into one-home, family, love, acceptance-and so exhilarating that it blinded me to everything else. For an instant, I forgot about Tomas and Myra, about Tony and my whole laundry list of problems. They didn't seem to matter anymore.

I shook in dawning comprehension. I wasn't simply attracted to Mircea. Attraction didn't feel like this, didn't destroy my ability to breathe, didn't make me ache, didn't make me feel hopeless and desperate at the thought of being apart from him. I clung to him, knowing there was no way he could possibly return my feelings unless a spell compelled him, and I didn't care. It didn't matter if he loved me back. I craved him like a drug, needed him to feel alive and whole. Much more of this and I would do anything, anything at all, never to be parted from him again.

I felt an answering emotion in the tightness of his grip and finally understood. It seemed that passion was only one of the tricks in the geis' repertoire, and not the most devastating. Not by half.

"When did you place the spell?" the Consul demanded.

I gazed at her blankly, having forgotten she was even there. My thoughts were thick and sluggish, the very air around me heavy, and I had to fight to understand the question. I considered my options and they were sobering. "I don't know" wasn't likely to go over well, but pointing out the obvious fact that the Consul was mistaken wasn't likely to do any better. I had no idea what answer might satisfy her, or how long I needed to stall. And Mircea jabbing something into my rib cage wasn't helping.

I looked down to see that the offending object was a pale pink high heel that he must have been concealing in an inner pocket of his coat. It was oddly fragile looking, with the delicate satin material starting to flake off in places and a few darker colored sequins hanging by threads. It looked like an antique, except for the design. I didn't think they made three-inch spiked heels in the good old days.

After a minute, my brain caught up. I'd hobbled around Dante's kitchen that morning because I'd lost a shoe. It had been bright red, not shell pink, and had looked brand new, but otherwise it was the twin of this one. Luckily, Mircea's body mostly blocked me from view, because I doubt I managed to keep my face under control. The theatre. I'd lost that shoe more than a hundred years ago in a London theatre.

"Cassandra?" The Consul did not sound pleased at the delay, which was ironic considering her habit of fading out at inopportune moments. I didn't answer, remembering the spark I thought I'd imagined in that other time. The Mircea of that era had not been under the geis, but I had. The spell must have recognized him as the needed element to complete itself, and made the connection on its own. The implication hit me like a sledgehammer. I'd inadvertently laid a spell on him that had had more than a century to grow.

"How long?" the Consul repeated in the voice of someone not accustomed to having to say anything twice.

"I'm not sure," I finally said. My voice was hoarse, but I couldn't seem to clear my throat. "Possibly…" I finally managed to swallow. "It may have been the 1880s.”

Someone uttered a profanity, but I didn't see who. It was as much as I could do to keep even part of my concentration on the Consul. The heat of Mircea's body and the horror at what I'd done to him were causing chaos in my emotions. Passion and guilt struggled for dominance, but fear was making a strong showing, too. My stomach contracted viciously.

The Consul did not look pleased. “The geis went dormant after you left, unable to complete itself without you," she mused. "And when the two of you encountered each other again, you were only a child-too young for it to manifest. But when you met as adults, it activated and its power began to build.”

I managed to nod. Mircea had been caressing my hand to keep contact between us, stroking the bones in my wrist and sliding down to massage my palm with his thumb. But now he'd graduated to running his hands up and down my arm, as if craving more contact. And everywhere he touched left what felt like liquid pleasure behind. It soaked into my skin, making me as giddy as if his touch was an intoxicant, and maybe it was. I didn't know how the spell worked, only that it was far too good at what it did.

All I wanted was to stay there forever, the geis flowing around us like a dazzling waterfall. I knew it wasn't real, that it was just a spell that had had far too long to take hold, but it was very hard to care. When in my life would I ever feel like this again? I'd had twenty-four years of reality and never even come close. Wasn't a lie this good worth something? My body's answer was a resounding yes. Only, some tiny voice whispered, that wasn't really the question, was it? Not was it worth something, but was it worth everything, because that was what the spell demanded.

And that it couldn't have.

"The person who initiates the spell controls it," the Consul was saying. "But you left it untended for more than a century.”

"Not intentionally!”

She arched a perfect eyebrow and repeated the unofficial vampire code. "We are discussing outcome, not intent." Vamps are extremely practical about such things. The results of an action are always more important than whether or not harm was intended. And the result of my action was catastrophic.

"What about the original spell-the one Mircea put on me?" I asked desperately. "If he removes it, maybe the… the effects will lessen." And buy us time to find a mage who could lift the duplicate.

"That has already been tried, Cassandra," the Consul informed me patiently. "The spell is proving remarkably… resilient.”

"It won't break?" I tried to wrap my mind around that, but Mircea was making deep thought impossible. I tried to step out of his embrace, just long enough to clear my head, but he gave an inarticulate sound of protest and pulled me closer.

"It will not," the Consul said mildly.

I gave her a look meant to scald, uncaring for the moment how stupid that was. If she wanted to help Mircea, she was doing a lousy job of it. According to Casanova, the spell would grow faster with Mircea and me in close proximity, and we couldn't get much closer than we currently were. Soon, neither of us would care about anything else. And that meant there would be no one to stop Myra. I was beginning to see how my vision could easily come true.

For a moment, I contemplated trying to explain the situation to the Consul, but I doubted she'd believe me. I had zero proof to offer, and vamps aren't exactly known for taking things on faith. I moved slightly so that I was momentarily hidden from her sharp gaze and met Mircea's eyes. He'd thought to bring the shoe, which meant that, at some point, he must have figured out what had happened. I just hoped he remained lucid enough to understand what I needed to tell him.