"The choice is yours, Cassie. You know how I feel.”

I looked at him searchingly. "Do I? Louis-César commanded you to come to me. All those months, you were doing a job.”

Tomas' hands stilled. "And am I still doing that job, Cassie? Is this all an elaborate hoax to persuade you to accept a position you do not want?”

"No." Vamps might not have the same reaction to pain as humans, but no one would allow himself to be carved up like that, not for any reason.

He pulled me against him, his eyes burning. "Do you think I am trying to win back the Consul's good graces by completing my original mission? Is that it?”

I didn't answer immediately. Tomas had betrayed me before, and although I'd convinced myself that he'd done the wrong thing for the right reasons, what if he hadn't? I knew for a fact that he was a good actor—most of the old vamps were. If they weren't born that way, they acquired the skill through centuries of practice. But it didn't make sense for him to be playing me. Even if the Senate was willing to wipe the slate clean and take him back, that wasn't what Tomas wanted. His main goal was to be free of his master's control in order to kill Alejandro. No matter how much they wanted me back, the Senate wasn't going to make war on another sovereign vampire body—especially not when they already had a war on their hands. They couldn't give Tomas what he truly wanted, and I didn't believe he'd sell me out for less.

"No," I finally admitted. "I don't think that.”

"But you don't trust me.”

It wasn't a question, so I didn't answer it. What could I say? He was right.

Tomas laughed mirthlessly. "How can I blame you? You put your trust in me once, and I lied to you. Anything I say now would only be words.”

"I'd still like to hear them," I said tentatively. Tomas had given me an explanation for the betrayal, but he'd said nothing about us. I needed to hear that not everything about our time together had been a lie.

He kissed me lightly, just below the indentation of my throat. "All my life, I only knew people who wanted something from me. When I was young, it was protection and a chance for revenge. After Alejandro turned me, it was skill in battle and a knowledge of the land that he didn't possess. For Louis-César, I was a living trophy, a testament to his power." He caressed my hair, lightly, reverently. "Only you ever cared about me as a person, without wanting anything in return. Te amo, Cassie. Te querré para siempre.”

I don't speak Spanish, but I got the idea. Once I'd have given a lot to hear those words, in any language, but now my feelings were too confused to even begin sorting out. I didn't know what I felt, much less what to say. "Tomas, I—”

"Don't. I want to remember this, just as it is. I will have to go back soon and I do not want to take lies with me, no matter how sweet they sound. The Senate deals in lies. This"—he rested his cheek against my chest—"this is real.”

"You don't have to go back, Tomas! I told you, we'll find a way to hide you.”

He laughed, and it sounded more genuine this time. "Little Cassie, always looking out for everyone. I am the one supposed to be rescuing you, didn't you know? Is that not how the fairy tales go?" His expression darkened suddenly. "But why should you think that way? I have been little enough use so far!”

"You saved me from Tony's thugs, or doesn't that count?" Tony had sent a crew to the nightclub where I'd been working to take me out. They didn't succeed partly because the Senate had assigned Tomas to guard me. Despite everything, I hadn't forgotten that he'd saved my life. But apparently he had, because he brushed it away with a gesture.

"You would have managed. You always do." His expression grew fierce. "Cassie, if you doubt how I feel, let me show you! Let me do this for you!”

I let my hand comb through the silky mass of his hair. The Pythia's position might be a cage, but at least it was one over which I'd have some say. I'd be stuck with the job, but I'd retain control over the rest of my life—something the geis would deny me.

"You'll hurt yourself," I protested as Tomas' breath started to come faster. A first-level master could heal almost anything, but there was no way Tomas was over his injuries already.

A rumble of laughter sounded in my ear. "It hurt far more, seeing you every day, being surrounded by your scent for months, and not being allowed to touch you. I lived with you for half a year, yet I never saw your body. I will remember this," he said wonderingly, his hand gliding down my side.

"I won't risk hurting you," I insisted, trying to sound stronger than I felt.

Tomas laughed again, and laid me back against the cot. He bent over me, his hair forming a tent around our faces that was intimate instead of suffocating. Only his eyes were clearly visible, brimming with humor. "I think we can do this," he whispered, "if you promise to be gentle.”

I couldn't help it—I laughed, and the next moment he was kissing me with an intensity that left me breathless. I slid my arms under the heavy mane of hair and clasped them around Tomas' neck. His grip was strong but careful, and although I could feel the weight of him against my leg, hot and hard and ready, he held back, waiting for me to make the first move. Suddenly, there was no more doubt. It wasn't just the geis tugging at me. It wasn't just that I wanted a way out of the current mess. I wanted him.

"Do it," I said, "quick, while we have time.”

"Quick is not what I had in mind," Tomas said, frowning. "Particularly not the first time.”

"We don't have time for anything else," I said impatiently. For once the geis, the power and I all agreed on something, and Tomas was being difficult.

I wrapped my hand around him and was rewarded with a deep shiver and the wonderful feel of sweet, ardent flesh against my palm.

I desperately wanted to watch that thick shaft disappear into me. I knew it would stretch me to the limit, that the fit would be tight, the friction maddening, and that sounded perfect. I wanted to feel him work his way into me, wanted the pressure, craved the burn.

"It will hurt you," he protested, his voice ragged.

I ran my tongue up the column of his neck. "Let it.”

Tomas was trembling but was stubbornly not giving in. I decided to forget about talking and persuade him another way. I kissed him, my mouth hungry against his, then slid down to fasten my teeth firmly on the joint of his neck and shoulder. It was exactly where a vampire would bite, but instead I sucked some of that taut skin into my mouth, marking him. I let my hands wander where they would, memorizing the contours of the muscle and sinew under that warm, satin skin. Then, without warning, I bit down.

Tomas' breath had been making low growls in his throat, but at the feel of my teeth sliding into his flesh, he groaned. Judging by the way the hardness pressing into my hip expanded in a sudden leap, it wasn't in protest. His narrowed eyes glittered when I finally released his neck. "You don't fight fair," he complained, his voice dark and heavy. He drew in a deep breath, released it and slid a finger inside me. I gasped at the unexpected invasion, and arched, tightening convulsively around him. "Not fair at all," he said hoarsely.

I tangled my hands in his hair as a talented tongue replaced the finger. He drew my flesh into his mouth, the suction pulling my hips with it, causing me to fall into a rhythm I couldn't even think about resisting. He pushed my legs wider for better access, until one was dangling inelegantly off the cot. I didn't care—the sight of him devouring my body made my breath catch almost as much as the sensation did.

My world narrowed to that luscious mouth; that slow, wet glide; those big, strong hands. Warm, rough palms smoothed again and again over the muscles of my abdomen as if they couldn't stop, then finally slid to my hip, slowly kneading the trembling muscle they found there. God, a girl could fall in love with those hands.

His mouth felt like liquid flame as he explored me, finding places that sent shock waves of ecstasy through my body. I gasped softly, amazed by the gentle, intimate examination, the deep, delicate touch. I collapsed back against the mattress and let those wet touches drag me under. Surges of pleasure rippled up my spine as he caressed me from the inside, and suddenly the angle and pressure were perfect. It seemed like his mouth was everywhere, tasting, sucking, touching, filling. He polished his performance quickly, picking up the clues from my body, noting what made me cry out and repeating it until sunbursts of pleasure started exploding behind my eyes. Every move of his lips seared along my nerves until it threatened to take the top of my head off.

"Tomas! Please!" Before I'd finished speaking, he had changed positions and was poised over me. He stopped, struggling for control, and I growled at him. Finally he moved forward, sinking slowly into me. And, God, it was good—no, better than good, if the sparks behind my eyelids were anything to go on. He had laid me open to a dance of sensation with his hands and tongue alone, but the feel of him moving into my body was even better, stretching, wonderfully filling, remaking my flesh until I fit him like a glove.

He was ample enough to be a tight fit, but his firm flesh was smooth and yielding, molding to mine with only a slight ache when he moved across skin abraded in the attack. But he bit his lip, keeping all that power on a thin leash, his breath coming in ragged gasps from the excruciating care he was taking. He slid forward a scant half-inch at a time, warming me by fractions when I wanted the whole searing length of him. But finally he was there, nestled fully within me, radiating heat to my very core. His eyes were closed, his long lashes sweeping his flushed cheeks as he held himself motionless for a long moment. He left me breathless.

His entrance hadn't hurt, but waiting for him to move, to shift position, to do something before I completely lost my mind, did. When he started withdrawing again, with that same agonizing slowness, my patience broke. I twined myself around him as he pulled out, then suddenly thrust up to meet him, sinking him completely inside me again in a single, groan-inducing stroke.