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"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?"
