We might as well be married as far as vamps were concerned, despite the fact that I hadn't actually been asked. Hadn't, in fact, realized what was happening until the marking was long over. It wouldn't have mattered to another vampire, who would have considered herself lucky to belong to a Senate member. But although I might have grown up with them, I wasn't a vamp. And I wasn't thrilled with the idea of being owned, no matter how nice the fringe benefits.
"You aren't going to distract me," I told Mircea severely, because he was doing a damn good job of it. "I need to come to terms with the Circle, and they aren't going to understand my living with you."
"You're already living with me. I own this hotel."
"It's open to the public and you aren't here on a regular basis. Moving into your personal quarters, even if they are the size of a house, isn't the same thing. The Circle won't like it."
Mircea bent down and trailed his lips over the twin marks, making me shiver. "Do you know, dulceaţ, I am getting very tired of hearing about what the Circle does and does not like."
"So am I. But we have to face—"
He stopped me with a kiss that turned my spine to JellO. This wasn't the way this argument was supposed to go, I thought vaguely as my fingers curled into the wet fabric of his shirt. I was right; I should be winning. And nobody should be sticking a tongue in anybody else's mouth.
"You're too precious to lose," he told me, when I broke for air.
"If anything happens, I'm sure the Senate will—"
"I wasn't talking about the Senate," he said, a strange smile ghosting his lips.
Our eyes met and it was suddenly hard to breathe. "Oh." I felt oddly small and strangely powerful at the same time.
"And I am not proposing to take you to MAGIC, at least not immediately. I have been called away on family business."
"Again? You just got back."
"And because I cannot trust you not to undermine my servants in my absence—"
"I didn't—"
"— or to stay out of trouble for even a few days, you are coming with me."
Chapter Four
The family's customized Boeing Business Jet wasn't so much a plane as a flying hotel suite. It had glove leather seats the size of recliners in the dining area that were clustered around a shiny maple table. There was more maple on the walls and a luxurious coffee-and-cream-patterned carpet on the floor, and the bathroom boasted almost as much granite as the one at Dante's.
Mircea was sitting on a cream leather sofa in the lounge area, looking perfectly at home in a silver-gray shirt and tie and a sleek black suit. I felt a little too informal in a pair of jean shorts and a blue and white striped tank top, but I hadn't had a chance to ask where we were going before getting dressed. At least I was clean.
Mircea had been staring out the window instead of at the forty-seven-inch plasma TV on the wall, but he looked up when I returned from my exploration. "There's an actual bed in the next room," I informed him, before realizing how that sounded.
His lips did a slow curve. "We aren't going that far."
"Where are we going, exactly?"
"To Radu's home, near Napa."
I knew Mircea had a brother named Radu. I'd even met him on one very memorable occasion. But this seemed an odd time for a social call.
"It has been my experience that family business never waits for a convenient time," he commented when I said as much. "Although this will be a quick visit. The Consul is expecting to receive her African and European counterparts in two days, and I must be there."
"They're coming here?"
"With their entourages."
"But. . I didn't think consuls traveled much." A consul was the head of a senate and as such was seen as too valuable to risk. Not that the ones I'd met had seemed in need of much protection. They were pretty scary all on their own.
"These are difficult times. The danger in not combining our strength is far greater than any risks required to do so. If we don't align our interests for the war, we may soon find ourselves without any."
Mircea sounded like maybe he'd made that argument more than a few times lately. "Is that a prepared speech?"
He ran a hand over his face, and for the first time, he looked tired. "Yes, but it's not supposed to sound like one."
A steward came in and set a silver tray with some covered chafing dishes on the coffee table. They turned out to be hiding eggs, bacon and thick-sliced French toast. Orange juice in a cut crystal carafe sat on the side, along with a small bowl of fresh peaches. The sun wouldn't rise for another hour or so, but my stomach grumbled anyway. I'd missed dinner by about four hundred years.
I ate some of everything, even the eggs, despite the pearl-gray caviar the steward had insisted on piling on top. Mircea had coffee. But as stimulants don't work too well on vampires, I doubted it was doing much for him.
He resumed staring out the window while I ate, which alone would have told me that something was wrong. He was the reigning champion of idle chitchat. And that was with someone he didn't know.
Everyone on the Senate had a job, what in a president's cabinet would be called a portfolio. Mircea was the Consul's chief negotiator, the go-to guy when people were being stubborn about giving her what she wanted. Normally, he was able to engineer miracles, bringing even the most obstinate types around to her way of thinking. But this time, she might have asked too much.
"Do you really think the other senates are going to get on board?" I asked.
"What do your cards say?" he countered, obviously not wanting to give odds.
The only tarot deck I had on me had been a present from an old friend who'd had them spelled as a joke. I didn't know who had done the charm, but it was a damn good one. Doing a spread with them was a real pain, but they were eerily good at predicting the overall magical climate of a situation.
"It won't be a normal reading," I warned him, fishing them out. "They don't shut up long enough."
I'd barely gotten the words out when two cards popped up all on their own from the deck.
"The Emperor," a light tenor proclaimed, while a deeper voice majestically intoned, "Death!" After that, it was a little hard to tell what they said, as they kept trying to talk over one another. They got progressively louder in the process until I finally managed to shove them back in the pack and snap it shut.
"The Emperor stands for strength, assertiveness, sometimes aggression," I told Mircea, who was looking amused. "If referring to a person, it usually signifies a father or father figure, a leader or employer, or a king or despot. If to a situation, it indicates a time when bold moves are needed for success."
"Should I worry that the Death card came up as well?" he asked lightly.
"Not really. It almost never means actual death. Normally it foretells the end of something—a dream, an ambition, a relationship. ."
"For some reason I do not feel particularly reassured" was the dry response.
"In this case, it modifies the Emperor," I explained. "The two cards are often associated with each other. An emperor only secures power through the death of his predecessor, he stays in power partially by the fear of death he inspires and his power ends with his own death."
Mircea frowned. "We will shortly have three consuls together for the first time in centuries. Do not take this the wrong way, but I sincerely hope that your interpretation is not the correct one."
So did I.
"What do you plan to do with the alliance, if you get it?" I asked.