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"I guess she didn't say what?"
"No vampire is that chatty.” Her voice held a slight edge of sarcasm. “Not the ones I've met, anyway." He smiled slightly. “Did she say anything else?"
She hesitated. “Yeah. She said I had the taste of a vampire on me, and that she didn't want to upset my master.” Her expression was curious and more than a touch afraid. “What did she mean by that?"
"It means she could sense my life force in you.” And meant this woman was old—older than he, even. Only the very old vampires knew about thralls—and only they could sense them. Could this woman be the darkness Seline had sensed at the resort?
"But what did she mean by my master?” She hesitated again, glancing around at the other passengers.
"Don't worry,” he said. “They're all asleep.” He'd touched their thoughts and made sure of that a few hours ago.
Her quick frown made him wonder if she'd realized what he'd done. She hated any sort of psychic intrusion, even when it was attempted on other people. And her first lover, Tommy, and to some extent Jasper, had certainly insured that she feared it.
"And why did she say I'm not human? If I'm not, then what the hell am I?"
"You are still human, Nikki, as I am still human."
She snorted. “Oh, that's so very comforting. You have a serious aversion to sunlight and drink blood to survive."
"And you do not."
"No. But there are drawbacks you haven't told me about, aren't there?"
"No,” he said, even though there were. Lots of them. Like being an easy target for those vampires old enough to know what she was—and how to use her to get to him and destroy him. If the vampire who'd taken Matthew was also involved in the resort kidnappings, they were both in serious danger. But he also knew he didn't have a hope in Hades of getting her to turn around and go home. As she'd warned, she didn't give up and she didn't give in. He'd just have to find some way to keep her out of trouble.
"Why can't you just be honest with me, Michael? Even on something as simple as this?" He looked away from the accusation in her eyes. “I can not change three hundred years of habit in a matter of months."
"Can't, or won't?” she muttered.
"Both.” Because honesty was a dangerous weapon when you held as many secrets as he did. She pulled her gaze from his, but not before he'd seen the glitter of tears. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and silently cursed the capriciousness of fate. Why couldn't it have just left well enough alone? He didn't want to hurt her, but he had no doubt that he would, and more than once—until she accepted they were something that could never be.
And what is she supposed to do in the long years that lie ahead? He shoved the thought aside and reached for the briefcase near his feet. “You should read this,” he said, handing her a manila folder.
"What is it?” She accepted the folder without looking at him.
"Background info. How we met, when we were married."
"I see we're on our honeymoon.” She snorted softly and glanced up. “That'll be a hard act to pull off when you won't even touch me."
"As you can see,” he said, ignoring the tartness in her words, “Seline kept as close to the truth as she could. Less room for mistakes that way."
"Are you rich? This implies you're a multimillionaire.” She raised an eyebrow and studied him warily. Why? What was it about wealth that worried her? “You cannot live for as long as I have without collecting a certain amount of financial independence."
"Which is a roundabout way of saying you're swimming in it.” She shook her head, then added in a voice that was little more than a murmur, “I really don't know anything about you, do I?" And that was the way he intended to keep it. He pointed to the ring taped to the top of the folder. “Your wedding ring."
"Not what I would have chosen,” she muttered. She slipped it on her finger, then held out her hand, studying it. The diamond crusted ring looked huge on her. “Ugly. I hope you didn't choose this monstrosity."
"No, that's Seline's doing, and part of the cover.” If he ever gave Nikki a ring, it certainly wouldn't be made of diamonds or gold. It would be simple, carved from the stone of his birthplace, Eire. Like the ring he wore on his right hand—the ring his grandfather had made. A ring made from the heart. She glanced back to the folder. “Oh great,” she continued after a few moments. “I not only have bad taste in rings, but I'm a gold-digger as well."
"Nine of the fifteen people who have disappeared from the resort had marriages that could be classified as dubious—huge age discrepancies or vastly different socioeconomic backgrounds."
"So? Old rich guys marry dumb, busty women all the time. If you ask me, it's a fair swap. She gets his money, and he gets a pretty body to play with until he dies.” She closed the folder and handed it back.
“Besides, Vance Hutton hardly falls into that category."
"No, he doesn't. But what is even odder is the fact that his wife is the only one who's actually raised a fuss."
Nikki raised her eyebrows. “You mean, fifteen mega-wealthy men have disappeared and no one's noticed? That's not possible."
