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“Come back to MAGIC with me,” Mircea murmured, his hands finding the muscles of my neck and beginning to expertly knead away the tension. I told my body not to respond and it obeyed as well as it ever did when it came to Mircea—not at all. “My personal apartment is extensive. You can have your own room”—he nipped me lightly on the neck—“if you want it.”
“I don’t like MAGIC,” I told him unsteadily, turning away. I lost the thong and submerged myself in the tub.
“It’s the safest place for you,” he said lightly.
MAGIC, short for the Metaphysical Alliance for Greater Interspecies Cooperation, was the supernatural community’s version of the United Nations, allowing mages, vampires, Weres and even the Fey—when they bothered to show up—to talk out their difficulties. It had some of the strongest wards anywhere, powered by a potent energy source known as a ley line sink. Mircea was right—it was the safest place around.
For anyone not fighting a god, that is.
“There is no safe place for me,” I told him shortly, searching around under the bubbles for my loofah.
“Not if you continue to evade the protections placed around you.” Mircea pushed his sleeve up and plunged his arm into the almost scalding water, finding the loofah easily. He turned me around and began to wash my back in long, soothing strokes. I tried not to relax—I knew damn well what he was up to—but my body had other ideas. When he zeroed in on the knot at the small of my back, I couldn’t bite back a groan.
He finished my back and pulled me against him. He abandoned the loofah, lathered his hands with soap and began to wash my shoulders and arms. “You’ll ruin your clothes,” I protested weakly.
“I have others.”
I sighed and closed my eyes, letting my body go on autopilot for a few minutes. The warmth of his hands slowly worked the tension out of my muscles, making me feel almost human again. Soon I was holding out an arm or leg when instructed, so he could wash my elbows and the underside of my breasts, my calves and the back of my knees. . . .
I could feel his breath on my cheek as I relaxed back against the tub. My hand unconsciously went to his hair, feeling its softness as he massaged me with slow deliberate strokes, pulling a deep sigh from my aching body. God, it was unfair how easily he could make me melt, every good intention lost in pleasure after only a few touches. “I love how responsive you are,” he whispered, his fingers trailing a path of goose bumps down my stomach. When they brushed between my legs a moment later, I felt like I might climb out of my skin.
I sat up abruptly, grabbed a washcloth and took over before I ended up agreeing to whatever he wanted. “What are you doing, Mircea?” I asked unsteadily.
He sighed and sat back on his heels, but he didn’t pretend to misunderstand me. “Trying to keep you alive.”
“That won’t happen by hiding me away somewhere. And cowering in a corner until Apollo finds me isn’t—”
“Apollo.” Mircea’s voice held disdain. “You honor him by continuing to use that name.”
I shrugged. “It’s what he calls himself.”
“Because he enjoys pretending to godhood.”
“Whereas he’s really only an immensely powerful, ancient magical creature from another world,” I said sarcastically.
“Whatever he is, the Circle is better equipped—”
“No. They’re not. They’re in even more danger than I am.”
As the ancient legends said, Apollo had once lorded it over the Ear
th along with others of his kind. Among other things, their rule had involved a lot of smiting of worshippers who didn’t grovel sufficiently or, worse, failed to grovel at all, being too busy attempting to eject some godly butts from the planet. But the mages of the day hadn’t had much success with that: the “gods” had their own form of magic, one that was so different from the human variety that all attempts to dislodge them had failed.
That had continued to be true until Apollo’s sister, Artemis, realized that humankind was heading for extinction and gave some mages the spell to banish her kind and block the way back to Earth. The only ones not affected were of the demigod variety who had enough human blood to anchor them to this world, and most of them were soon rounded up and imprisoned by the magical community. Human rule over Earth was reestablished, and the Silver Circle formed to guard it.
That might have been the end of the story, except that Apollo had been able to keep in contact with his servants, the Pythias, through the power he’d bestowed on them. The Circle knew that, but the fact that the power migrated to a new host as soon as the old one died had made dealing with them a problem. They couldn’t kill every clairvoyant on the planet, so they compromised by ensuring that the Pythias stayed firmly under their magical thumb. That had remained true for thousands of years.
Until me.
The Circle’s fear of what Apollo might do through me was the main reason for their dogged attempts to put me in a grave situation. That was highly ironic, since almost the only thing I’d done with the power so far had been to use it against their old enemy. That had stuck me between the proverbial rock and a hard place, with both the Circle and Apollo wanting me dead.
It was nice that they could agree on something.
To add to the irony, the Circle and I were currently allies—at least technically. They had joined with the Senate, with whom I had an understanding, against Apollo and everyone he’d been able to con into supporting him—some rogue vampires and a powerful group of dark mages calling themselves the Black Circle. And so far things weren’t looking that great for our side, mainly because Apollo didn’t have to win in order for us to lose.
Artemis’ spell had a weakness—it took too much power for any one person to maintain. That was one reason the Circle had been set up in the first place: to parcel the load out onto thousands of mages. The Circle also had the advantage of being eternal, which dodged the inconvenient fact that spells don’t usually outlast the demise of the caster. With new mages being recruited as fast as the old ones died or retired, the Circle hadn’t had to worry about the deaths of individual members threatening the spell—unless it was the deaths of thousands of members.
All Apollo had to do was to keep chipping away at the Circle’s numbers and, sooner or later, there wouldn’t be enough people left to maintain the spell. The doorway would reopen and he and his kind would be back for an encore. And I doubted the magical community would enjoy, or survive, the experience. The other side was united, and if we didn’t manage the same soon, they’d wipe the floor with us.
