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She lifted her gaze, finally meeting his.
His eyes were endless pools of ebony in which she'd once so gladly lost her heart. “I thought you said I couldn't die as long as you lived."
"You are not immortal, Nikki, as I am not immortal.” He hesitated. “And because it is my psyche you share, I can kill you more easily than other vampires could." You have the taste of another vampire on you, the woman in the warehouse had said. Did that mean she'd sensed the life force Michael had shared with her? Or did it mean Jasper had left an imprint when he'd dined on her blood?
She shivered. She had to hope it was the former. The thought that a small part of Jasper might linger within her chilled her soul.
"And that's why you walked away?” Jake had said as much in the hospital, but she hadn't been willing to believe Michael would walk away over something so trivial. Besides, if he'd had the strength to stop drinking her blood when he was basically unconscious, what made him think he wouldn't when he was fully aware of what he was doing?
He met her gaze. There was no emotion in his eyes, no emotion in his expression. Nothing that would give her some clue to what he was thinking and feeling.
But perhaps she was looking for something that had never really been there in the first place. He'd once suggested that theirs was a love destined to burn brightly but die quickly. He might still care, but caring wasn't the same as loving.
Damn it, why wasn't the link active between them? If ever there was a time she needed to read the color of his thoughts, it was now.
"It is for the best,” he said flatly.
Her smile felt as brittle as her heart. “You once asked me if I had the courage to look beyond the gift you gave me. Perhaps it is a question you should also ask yourself." A gentle, almost wistful, smile touched his lips. “Nikki, I have had six months to think about nothing else.” He raised a hand, pushing a wisp of limp hair away from her eyes. His fingers trailed heat against her skin. “There has been enough darkness in your life. I cannot change what I am or what I do, and I will not bring you into the darkness of my world any more than I already have." She raised an eyebrow. “Don't you think that's a decision I should at least have a say in?" His fingers drifted down her cheek. She clenched her hands, resisting the temptation to step into his arms. To hold him and never let him go.
"No.” His voice was distant, distracted. His fingertips fell to her neck and brushed back her hair. Though his touch was gentle, it burned deep. She wanted, needed, this man in her life.
"Jasper was but a taste of the things I hunt, Nikki. Do you really think you could walk in that darkness all the time?"
Did he really think she could walk through the years ahead without him? Damn it, she loved him. If he could read her thoughts so clearly, surely he could see the three words she feared to say out loud.
"I don't know.” She hesitated, staring at him. Just for an instant, something glimmered in his dark eyes—an echo of depravity that reminded her of Jasper.
He snatched his hand away from her neck, then spun and walked away. Fear stepped further into her heart as she watched his retreat.
Instinct suggested she'd come close to death. Suggested that Michael's vampire instincts had almost overridden his control.
And it was her fault. In saving his life by feeding him her blood, she'd destroyed the control it had taken him three hundred years to achieve.
"Oh, God, Michael, I'm so sorry,” she whispered.
"Don't."
He'd stopped near Jake's desk. She stared at his back, saw the tension in the set of his shoulders and arms. Could feel his anger and frustration, a wave of heat that boiled across her skin.
"You did what you thought was best,” he continued.
Yes, she had, but what good had it done? In some respects, she'd still lost him. She rubbed her eyes wearily. “Why are you here?"
He glanced around. The wisp of depravity had left his eyes, but the anger still burned. “You are working on a case at the moment, are you not?"
"I'm a private investigator,” she reminded him blandly. “That's what I do." Two could play word games. If he wouldn't come straight out and tell her why he was here, why should she offer anything more than what he'd actually asked?
He sat on the edge of Jake's desk and slowly swung one leg. He looked casual, unconcerned, yet she knew the appearance was a lie. Tension and worry were emanating from him in waves thick enough to touch.
"This is a case that has gone wrong,” he said.
"Lots of cases go wrong, Michael. Take Monica Trevgard's case. It certainly didn't end the way I wanted it to."
If her words had any impact, it certainly didn't show. His face remained as impassive as ever. “Stop playing games, Nikki. You need to go to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and I need your help."
"I'm not the one playing games. Nor am I the one skirting the real issue here.” She stared at him for several seconds. When he didn't respond, she sighed and wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, studying the dark liquid intently. “Why me? Why now? Don't you belong to some organization full of psychics and vampires and God knows what else?"
His reply was terse. “Yes. And it is the lady in charge of that organization who insists I accompany you." Obviously, given the choice, he'd rather be anywhere else than here. She closed her eyes, fighting the sting of tears. “That still doesn't answer the question of why it has to be me." He hesitated. “Seline did a reading. If you go there alone, you will die." Fear rose. Yet death, in one form or another, had been a constant shadow in her life. She glanced up sharply. “Why was she doing a reading on me?"
