The Indigo Spell

He brushed aside the wig's hair and turned my face toward him. "Everything's going to be okay. She doesn't know about you."

I knew he was right, but it was hollow comfort. I leaned my head against his shoulder, wishing I could fix everything. That was my job, right? "All that means is that someone else could suffer in my place. I don't want that. I need to stop her once and for all."

"So brave." He gave me a small smile. His fingertips slid down from my face, lightly stroking the line of my neck, down toward my shoulder. Everywhere he touched, a trail of goose bumps appeared. How did he keep doing this to me? Marcus - who made every girl in the world swoon - had zero effect on me. But one whisper of a touch from Adrian completely undid me. "You could give Castile a run for his money," he added.

"Stop that," I warned.

"Comparing you to Castile?"

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it." His hands were too dangerous, as was being with him on a bed. Terrified I might be kissed again, I jerked away, and the sudden movement caught him by surprise. His fingers got tangled in my hair, as well as in my two necklaces, which resulted in him snapping both chains and nearly pulling off the brown wig. I quickly caught the garnet before it could fall off, but the cross slipped away. Thank God I'd kept the important one on. "No more kissing," I warned. I refastened the charm and straightened the wig.

"You mean no more kissing unless it's a romantic place," he reminded me. "Are you saying this place doesn't scream romance?" He nodded around to our tacky velvet surroundings. He then picked up the small cross and held it in the air, growing thoughtful as he studied the way the light played off the gold surface. "You gave this to me once."

"And you gave it back."

"I was angry."

"And now?"

He shrugged. "Now I'm just determined."

"Adrian." I sighed. "Why do you keep doing this? The touching . . . the kissing . . . you know I don't want it."

"You don't act that way."

"Stop saying that. It's obnoxious. Next you'll be saying I'm 'asking for it.'" Why did he have to be so infuriating? Okay . . . I hadn't really sent a clear message back at the sorority. Or Pies and Stuff. But this time I'd done better. "I just pulled away. How much more direct do I have to be?"

"It's not your actions, exactly" he said. He still clutched the cross in his hand. "It's your aura."

I groaned. "No, no, not that. I don't want to hear about auras."

"But I'm serious." He shifted over and stretched out on the bed, lying on his side. He patted the bed near him. "Lie down."

"Adrian - "

"I won't kiss you," he said. "I promise."

"How stupid do you think I am?" I said. "I'm not falling for this."

He gave me a long, level look. "Do you really think I'd assault you or something?"

"No," I said quickly. "Of course not."

"Then humor me."

Warily, I lay down on my side as well, facing him with only a few powerful inches between us. An enraptured, slightly distracted look appeared in his eyes. He'd given himself over to spirit. "Do you know what I see in you now? The usual aura. A steady golden yellow, healthy and strong, with spikes of purple here and there. But when I do this. . . ."

He rested a hand on my hip, and my whole body tensed up. That hand moved around my hip, slipping under my shirt to rest on the small of my back. My skin burned where he touched me, and the places that were untouched longed for that heat.

"See?" he said. He was in the throes of spirit now, though with me at the same time. "Well, I guess you can't. But when I touch you, your aura . . . it smolders. The colors deepen, it burns more intensely, the purple increases. Why? Why, Sydney?" He used that hand on me to pull me closer. "Why do you react that way if I don't mean anything to you?" There was a desperation in his voice, and it was legitimate.

It was hard for me to talk. "It's instinct. Or something. You're a Moroi. I'm an Alchemist. Of course I'd have a response. You think I'd be indifferent?"

"Most Alchemist responses would involve disgust, revulsion, and holy water."

That was an excellent point. "Well . . . I'm a little more relaxed around Moroi than most Alchemists. Probably this is just some purely physical response driven by hormones and years of evolution. My body doesn't know any better. I'm as susceptible to lust as anyone else." There was probably a book about that or at least an article in Cosmopolitan.

The hint of a smile played over his lips. He was fully in tune with me again. "No, you aren't. I mean, you are, but not without reason. I know you well enough to realize that now. You're not the kind of person who's 'susceptible to lust' without some emotion to back it." He moved his hand back to my hip, sliding it down my leg. I shuddered, and his face moved closer to mine. There was so much in his eyes, so much desire and longing. "See? There it is again. My flame in the dark."

"Don't kiss me," I whispered. It was the only defense I could muster. If he kissed me, I'd be lost. I closed my eyes. "You said you wouldn't."

"I won't." His lips were only a breath away. "Unless you want me to."

I opened my eyes, ready to tell him no, that it didn't matter what my aura allegedly said . . . this couldn't keep happening. There was no emotion backing this desire, and I tried to cling to my earlier argument. I was so comfortable around Moroi now that clearly some primal part of me kept forgetting what he was. This was a base instinct. I was simply having a physical reaction to him, to his hands, to his lips, to his body. . . .

He caught hold of my arm and rolled me over. I closed my eyes again and wrapped my arms around his neck. I felt his lips touch mine, not quite a kiss, just the barest brush of -

The door opened, and I flinched. Alicia stepped inside, gasped, and put a hand up over her mouth to cover a shocked squeal. "O-oh," she stammered. "I'm so sorry . . . I . . . I didn't realize . . ."

Adrian and I jerked away and sat up. My heart was ready to beat out of my chest, and I knew I was blushing. I quickly patted my wig and was relieved to feel it was still in place. He recovered his voice more quickly.

"Sorry . . . we kind of got carried away. We started checking out the other rooms and decided to, uh, try them out." Despite his sheepish words, there was a smug look on his face, the kind you'd expect from a guy who'd just made a conquest. Was it part of the act, or did he really think he'd gotten away with something?