He glanced at his watch. It was nearing one. Nikki had been gone ten minutes. Good. I'll contact you tonight.
Do that. And remember what I said earlier. Her heart lies wrapped in darkness, Michael. Don't trust her. He frowned. Trust who? Nikki?
But once again, the old witch cut the connection before he could finish his thoughts. He thumped the window frame. Damn, she could be annoying.
He glanced at his watch again. If Nikki didn't come back within the next five minutes, he was going after her—no matter how mad that might make her.
He couldn't let her wander around alone at night in a place where people had a habit of disappearing.
Nikki stopped beside the pool and stared into the crystal water. The lights had switched off as she'd come down the stairs, and only moonlight played on the gently rippling water. She glanced at her watch. It was close to one, so maybe the lights were on a timer. Most normal people were asleep at this hour, anyway, not wandering the night as furious as hell.
But then, most normal people weren't in love with a vampire who had the mindset of a brick wall. For half a minute she thought about jumping in the pool, clothes and all, simply to cool down. Only the fact she'd have to walk dripping wet through the hotel stopped her. Yet she was more annoyed at herself than she was at Michael. He'd warned her from the very beginning that he couldn't share his life with her. Warned her that no matter what, he would walk away. It shouldn't come as any surprise that he was fighting his feelings, fighting her , every step of the way. She scrubbed a hand through her hair. She didn't know if she had the strength for the battle that lay ahead. But what other choice did she have? She couldn't just walk away, as much as he wished her to. She'd sworn not so long ago to stop running, to start fighting for what she wanted—and what she wanted was to be a part of Michael's life, now and forever. Sighing softly, she stared into the darkness. In the distant ink of the night, lights moved. Pearls of orange, red and gold danced and swayed, as if in rhythm to some unheard beat.
A warning tingled across her skin. They weren't lights. Weren't flame, either. Curiosity piqued, she walked around the pool and down the rough stone steps leading to the tennis courts. She continued on, her footsteps sure despite the darkness. Oddly enough, she could see quite clearly. Everything seemed bright, like frost shining on grass in the first rays of sunlight. Her night vision had always been good, but never like this. What in the hell was happening to her? First Ginger, now this. She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. Perhaps she should go back to the room and talk to Michael. But then, would he really help her? Or would he tell her only what he thought she needed to know?
She bit her lip. Ahead, the pearls of light continued their dance, swaying back and forth like autumn leaves tossed in the wind. She had to see what they were.
Manicured lawn gave way to meadow grass. Trees loomed—rich scented cottonwoods and ghostly aspens—casting threatening shadows through the ice-bright darkness. The closer she got to the pearls, the more obvious it became that they had a life of their own. They reminded her of miniature comets, their incandescent tails trailing sparks through the night. She stopped behind the deep-grooved trunks of some aspens. Half a dozen flames danced in the clearing, all circling an outcropping of rock. There was no wind, no sound, yet the hairs on her arms stood on end, and cold fingers of air crept across her skin. Evil was gathering out there in the darkness beyond the flames.
They danced on regardless, shivering and twirling to some tune of their own. They were too ethereal in form to be some sort of bird or animal, and their movements too controlled for them to be any sort of weather phenomenon.
The sense of evil grew closer, chilling in its intensity. She rubbed her arms and glanced at the flames. They seem oblivious to everything but their dance. Should she somehow warn them? Whatever the flames were, they were doing no harm, simply enjoying the night and their dance. But whatever approached out there in the darkness was coming for them.
But how did you warn flames that danger was headed their way? She bit her lip, then stepped forward. Only to stop as a warning tingled across the back of her neck. Someone was behind her. Fear surged. She spun, but far too late. Something hit the side of her head, and the darkness claimed her.
Michael opened the patio door and stepped into the crisp night. The silence was intense, almost stifling. To his left and right he could hear steady heartbeats—couples sleeping the night away. Like Nikki should be.
His gaze swept the darkness. Where in the hell had she got to? He made for the steps leading down to the pool, half expecting her to be swimming in the dark, clothes and all. But the clear water lay undisturbed.
He braced his hands on his hips, studying the night uneasily. Nikki could take care of herself, and had for many years before he'd come onto the scene. But there was a feel to this place he just didn't like. There was more than disappearances happening here, of that he was sure. She could be anywhere. He opened the link and searched the darkness for the flame of her thoughts. After several minutes he found her. If the distance of her thoughts was anything to go by, she was a good quarter mile away from the hotel. Why? Didn't she know it wasn't wise to wander around in the dark out here? Besides all the grizzly and brown bears, there was also the suspected vampire element living here. He headed quickly down the steps and past the tennis courts, only running once he hit the meadow grass. The night became a blur around him. In the space of a heartbeat, he was with her. She was sitting on a rock, her hands covering her face. She wasn't crying and her thoughts were free of hurt. But they were also indistinct. It was almost as if he were viewing them through some sort of haze. He frowned.
Then he smelled the blood. Hunger surged, along with anger—at the person who'd touched her, at himself for letting her walk out that door alone.
"Nikki?” He knelt in front of her. Blood smeared her fingers and glistened in her hair. Hunger clenched his gut. He needed to feed or his demon-half might wrest control again. “Are you all right?"
"Yes.” She sighed and pulled her hands away from her face. A cut on her forehead disappeared into her hairline. Blood smeared the left side of her face. He gently probed the wound. She winced, but remained silent. Thankfully, the cut wasn't deep. She'd probably have one hell of a bruise in the morning, though.
"What happened?” he asked. He could smell her blood on his hand and clenched his fingers against the sudden urge to taste it.
"Something attacked me."
Why would someone attack her out here in the middle of nowhere? It didn't make any sense. “What were you doing?"
She shrugged. “Nothing much."
Her gaze flickered away from his, studying the night behind him. Why was she lying? “Did you sense something out here?"
She frowned. “I was standing near that grove of aspens when I sensed evil approaching. Not exactly vampire-type evil but something else—something more sinister. Then someone hit me, and I blacked out."
Which didn't tell him why she was out here in the first place. “And you didn't feel or hear the approach of the person who attacked you?"
"No."
The vagueness behind her words and her thoughts worried him. Maybe the bump on the head had given her a concussion. He'd better call the resort's doctor when they got back to their room.
"Are you up to walking back to the hotel?"
"I'm fine."
No reaction to his question, no flash of annoyance in her thoughts. Worry bit through him. “Can you stand?"
"Yes."
He touched her arm, and she rose. There was no life in her eyes, no rainbow splash of color through the link. It was almost as if she was on automatic pilot. What in the hell had happened out here?
She began walking—away from the hotel, not towards it. He cursed and picked her up. She didn't struggle, didn't react in any way. The night blurred as he raced back to the hotel room. He placed her on the bed, then washed the blood from his hands before wetting a cloth. He sat beside her and carefully cleaned her face.
"I'm okay. Stop worrying."
She still sounded out of it. “I'm calling a doctor just to be sure."
"No."
She touched his arm, her fingers pressing heat into his skin. Too much heat, in fact. He jerked his arm away from her touch. His flesh was red and beginning to blister. The sliver of worry became a knife.
"Really, I'll be fine,” she continued softly. “I just need to sleep a while." He had a feeling that whatever was wrong with her wasn't going to be cured by a conventional doctor. Something had happened out there in the field, something beyond the norm. Besides, if it were just a concussion, she should be okay. She was a thrall. She shared his life force and could recover from just about any wound, given time.
"Please,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
He frowned, but the plea in her voice was one he could not ignore. He rose from the bed. She sighed and snuggled down into the thick comforter. Almost instantly, she was asleep. He pulled up a chair and rested his feet on the end of the bed. For the next three hours, he watched her. She barely stirred, but her dreams were filled with flame and sorrow. Worry continued to eat at him. Dawn was spreading golden fingers across the cover of night when he finally rose. His need for blood was an ache that thrummed through his body. He had to hunt, and he had to do so before the day dawned fully or the other guests woke. He doubted if his control would last another twelve hours. It had taken several years to fully control his demon the first time. He couldn't expect miracles in a mere six months.
He bent and brushed a kiss across Nikki's forehead. Her heartbeat was strong and steady, a siren's song that called to the darkness in him. His canines extended, anxious to taste the sweet offering of life. Cursing, he swung away and walked quickly from the room.
When he came back an hour later, his thirst finally slaked, Nikki was gone. And the link was dead.
Chapter Eleven
Nikki jerked awake. For several seconds she lay in the darkness, wondering where in the world she was. The stars had disappeared from overhead, as had the dancing pearls of light. She frowned and glanced around. So had the trees.
She sat upright. Hot lances of fire shot through her skull like some madman with a jackhammer was loose in her head. Her stomach turned, threatening to leap into her throat. She took a deep breath and gently massaged her temples.
Only to discover that hurt almost as much. She touched her left temple gently. Her head had been cut, and her hair was matted with blood. She must have done it when she'd fallen. Warmth began dribbling down her cheek.
The headache eased slightly but not the sick churning in her stomach. What had happened?
The last thing she could remember was something smashing into her head, but she had an odd feeling a fair amount of time had passed. She reached out for Michael, but the link was dead. And she wasn't sure if that deadness was due to the wall he had raised between them since his return, or something else entirely.
She swept a hand cautiously through the darkness. Stone met her touch, not grass. She licked her lips. She wasn't in the meadow. Someone had moved her.
Light gleamed briefly in the darkness to her left. It reappeared minutes later, closer than before. Whatever it was, it was moving toward her. She inched away, but her back hit something solid. She swallowed her gasp and carefully felt behind her. It was a wall of some kind. The stone was as smooth as ice, yet felt almost furnace hot. It burned into her back, easing the chill of her fear. The light grew closer still. Energy crackled across her fingertips, firefly bright in the darkness. She clenched her fist and waited. There was no sound, no whisper of breathing, nothing to indicate that whatever approached was anything remotely human.
More importantly, though, there was no whisper of evil, no taste of death. Whatever that light represented, it wasn't a vampire.
Another light appeared to her right, dancing brightness through the cover of night. This time she recognized it. The lights she'd seen in the meadow. More appeared, until a semicircular ring of warmth surround her.
Through this warmth walked Ginger.
Surprise rippled through Nikki. There was an ethereal glow to the redhead's skin, and a light in her eye that recalled the heat of flames. She looked very much at home with the stale-smelling darkness and the dancing pearls of light.
She stopped several feet away, regarding Nikki steadily, her head tilted slightly to one side. “You are all right?"
Nikki nodded. There was something not quite right about the way Ginger moved and spoke. In some ways it reminded her of a newborn—or maybe someone just recovering from a major accident who had to learn to control her body all over again. “Why am I here?" "You saved our lives.” Ginger waved a hand around the darkness. The lights shivered in response, their brightness muting and casting shadows the color of rich amber through the night. “We are sorry if we hurt you. We did not mean to."
Nikki waved the apology away. For now, the wound on her head was the least of her worries. “How did I save you when I didn't do anything?"
Ginger smiled. “You felt him coming."
She must mean the evil Nikki had felt approaching before something smacked into her head and the lights went out. “Yeah, so?"
"We felt your fear. It warned us. We hid in your unconscious form, and he did not find us." Nikki scrubbed a hand across her eyes. This was making less and less sense. “Ginger, what the hell are you talking about?"
"He binds us,” she continued. “He captures us, forces us into human form. You must stop him." The lights behind her shivered and swayed, as if emphasizing her words . I've stepped into wonderland, she thought, and felt the lump on the side of her head. Maybe this was all just some weird dream. Maybe she was still unconscious in the meadow.
