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She rose and wrapped her hands around his neck, her lips brushing heat across his. He groaned and pulled her close, claiming her mouth. She tasted as warm as sunshine, as rich as honey. Heat flared in the link, a caress that stole past his heart and wrapped around his soul. She was everything he had ever longed for and everything he dared not take.
Her heartbeat pulsed through the silence, an unsteady rhythm that matched his own. His need for her was an ache that sang though his entire being. But deep down, the demon stirred. He dare not embrace what he might just destroy. Until his control was absolute, he would not take the risk of losing himself in her touch.
Even then, it might not be wise. He doubted if he could make love to her and have the strength to walk away from her again.
He pulled back, his breathing a little ragged. “Bedroom tactics will not win the day." Her expression was a picture of mischief. “We'll just have to see, won't we?"
"I'm going,” he said, not trusting her—or himself.
"Like that?” Her gaze scooted down his body, and she grinned. “The staff's female members will be impressed."
He tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans to hide his erection. “Just go to sleep. And don't go anywhere until I get back."
"Only if you promise not to be long."
The low pitch of her voice sent heat racing to his loins and almost shot his control to hell. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and got out of the room.
Chapter Twelve
It was close to four by the time she woke. Nikki yawned and stretched, then felt across the bed with one hand. She'd spent the day alone.
Sighing, she got up and grabbed fresh clothes, then headed into the bathroom. The cut on her hand was little more than a pink scar. Even the cut on her head looked half-healed, though the bruise around it was awful—a big, blackish-purple mass stretching from her temple to just above her eye. Not good, when Michael and she were supposed to be honeymooners. Biting her lip, she studied her reflection for several minutes. It wasn't natural to heal so fast—wasn't human. Ignoring the chill that raced across her skin, she turned on the taps and stepped into the shower.
Once she'd dressed, she walked over to her suitcase and pulled out the two plastic-wrapped items MacEwan had given her. Even through the plastic, Matthew's watch sent images scattering through her mind. If the strength of these were anything to go by, he was close. She shoved the watch into her shorts pocket, then opened the second bag. The bra belonging to MacEwan's niece felt dead when compared to Matthew's watch. She sat down and closed her eyes, reaching for whatever images the bra might give her. Gradually, they came.
Darkness. Fear. Hunger so fierce it burned through every fiber of her being. Words softly spoken, spinning through the darkness, surrounding her with power, locking her in chains. Heat burning through her body, through her soul. Sadness that rose in a wave, consuming her consciousness... Nikki dropped the bra into her lap and rubbed her eyes. She had no idea what was happening to Rachel, but one thing was certain—it wasn't good. The voice that had flowed so powerfully through the darkness was the same voice evident in the images she'd received when she'd touched Ginger's hand. But how were MacEwan's niece and the flame imps connected?
She put the bra back into the plastic and returned it to her suitcase. She couldn't exactly run around the resort holding a bra, so finding Rachel would have to wait until the other guests were asleep. She grabbed a room key and headed down to the library. Probably a dozen or so people were in the airy room, browsing the shelves or sitting in the overstuffed armchairs reading newspapers. Michael was close to the ceiling-high windows, nose deep in a book. Given it was well after three, the fading rays of sunlight did little more than glimmer off his damp, dark hair.
She knelt next to him, resting her elbows on one arm of the chair. “You've changed." The black shirt he now wore clung to his body and seemed to emphasize the lean strength of his shoulders and forearms. She resisted the urge to touch him then remembered they were supposed to be honeymooners. She ran her fingers up his forearm and played with his ear. He pulled her hand away, brushing a kiss across her fingers before releasing them. Amusement touched the corners of his eyes.
"And you're awake.” He dropped the book onto the nearby coffee table. “You were snoring last time I saw you."
"I don't snore!” She slapped his leg. “Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you needed sleep.” He touched her face, his fingers warm and oh-so-gentle. “People are going to think I hit you."
She placed her hand over his, pressing his palm against her cheek. Heat slithered through her body, and deep inside the trembling began. Lord, she craved this man's touch so much it was beginning to hurt. “Let them. You and I know the truth, and that's all that matters. Did you find anything here?" He withdrew his hand, but the heat of his touch still lingered on her skin. “Nothing much. A few vague mentions of underground caverns in the area's history, but nothing concrete. They haven't anything official on the area's geology.">"Who binds you?” she asked eventually.
Her question sparked feverish activity in the lights. Rainbows splashed across the darkness, reflecting brightly off the black stone walls that surrounded them.
"He does,” Ginger said.
Nikki snorted softly. “Yeah, but who is he?"
"He who is accompanied by she."
This was not making a whole lot of sense. It had to be a dream, surely. “And she is?"
"She has the darkness in her. Like the man who accompanies you." A chill ran through her. She swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in her throat. “What do you mean?"
"She feeds off life. She walks in darkness and knows no light." Vampire, Nikki thought, rubbing her arms. Perhaps the same vampire that had attacked her in the warehouse. “But what did you mean about Michael?"
Ginger shrugged. It seemed an awkward movement. “He walks the line between light and dark. He has the taste of the woman on him."
Her words made no sense. In three hundred years, Michael had only tasted one human—her. Or was that a lie, too? The chill biting through her limbs increased. “Meaning?" "We can not trust him. Only you. You must help us."
"How can I help you when I don't understand what it is you want?"
