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Her heart skipped several beats. She clenched her fists against the fear pounding through her heart.
“What do you mean?"
"Your life force is linked to mine. As long as I live, you cannot die." She groped for the edge of the bench, her knees suddenly weak. “Oh God, Michael, you're kidding ... right?"
"No. Unless you're beheaded, or have your neck broken, you cannot die.” There was no remorse in his voice, only an odd harshness that somehow spoke of pain.
She ignored it. She was immortal? As eternal as the moon and the stars ... and Michael?
"I am not immortal, Nikki. You noted that yourself some days ago." "Damn it, Michael, that's not the point."
"Then what is?” he asked wearily.
"I don't want to spend eternity with a man who lives his life in shadow, a man who could rule my every thought and desire!"
He made no comment, but his anger rolled across the darkness towards her. Energy burned at her fingertips. She clenched her fists against it. “Could you control me now, if you tried?"
He seemed to hesitate. “I don't know."
She closed her eyes, fighting terror. Michael wasn't Jasper. He wouldn't want to control every aspect of her life. At least not now. But what about one hundred, two hundred years from now? What would happen when he tired of her?
"Questions that mean nothing, because nothing will ever evolve from this. You do not want me in your life, Nikki, and I...?” He hesitated. “...cannot have you in mine." Cannot, or would not have? Either way, it made little difference. “Then why save me? Why not let me die?"
Again he hesitated. “Had you died in Jasper's trap, he could have raised you as one of the undead. I couldn't have stood that."
She rubbed her arms. What a choice. Life as the undead, or life everlasting. Both had their drawbacks, though in far different ways. “How could you possibly share a life force, Michael? How is something like that even conceivable?"
"I'm not sure of the mechanics of it myself. I only know it is possible when two people are ... compatible."
What had he meant to say? She shook her head, not sure if it even really mattered. “Is this the first time you've attempted something like this?"
"Yes.” And the last, if the acidity in his voice was anything to go by. “Do you think it was easy, Nikki, to tear part of what I am away to give you life?"
She winced at his anger. She wasn't a complete fool. Life was a miracle she surely didn't deserve. She was just trying to understand the ramifications.
"Do all vampires do this?"
He hesitated, and doubt ran through the color of his emotions.
"Very few. There are problems. I know of only one other, and he found himself in need of an ... assistant."
"A servant,” she corrected tightly.
He sighed. “There were reasons, Nikki, and his friend was very willing."
"Well, at least the friend was given a damn choice!" A short, sharp movement stirred the air. Light filled the room with brightness, then she was spun around. His eyes glittered with fury and some deeper, darker emotion she couldn't define.
"What is your problem, Nikki? Why do you refuse to trust me? Why can't you just accept the gift I gave you?"
I can't trust you because I might find I love you. And I don't want you to die. “I don't want eternity, Michael. I don't want to live with the fear that one day you will turn on me." His breath hissed through clenched teeth. “If you think me such a monster, then kill me. Take the knife from your boot and stab it through my heart. It will end my life and revert yours back to normal." She stared at him, appalled he could think her capable of such a brutal act.
"Why not? You're doing a damn fine job of it as it is. Why not finish it?” His grip on her arms tightened, bruising her. “But maybe you're happier wrapped in a cocoon of ice. Maybe I was a fool to think otherwise."
"Maybe you are,” she muttered.
He let her go suddenly and thrust a hand through his hair. “Christ, I don't even know why I'm bothering." He turned and walked to the other side of the room. It was a distancing that was mental as much as it was physical. And though this was what she had wanted, it still tore at her.
"What are we going to do then?” he asked after a moment. Arms crossed, he leaned against the wall, his face impassive, distant. As cold as when they'd first met.
