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"You should have pulled out sooner.” He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “If you don't, you run the danger of losing yourself in the other person's desires." She glanced up at him. There was a smudge of red on his cheek. Lipstick, from a kiss. This close, she could smell the other woman's perfume, a sickly-sweet scent reminiscent of orange and honey. But he was here, not with her , and for now, that was all that mattered.
"But why is this happening now? Is it some sort of fallout from you sharing your life force?"
"No. It's an ability you've always had.” He brushed the hair from her eyes, tucking it gently behind her ears.
Her skin tingled from his touch, and her heart began to accelerate. Deep inside, a familiar ache began. One she had no choice but to ignore. They didn't have the time. Or rather, Rachel's next victim didn't.
“But it's something I've never been able to do until recently." He raised an eyebrow. “Think about what you do. Psychometry is the ability to pull images of past events from certain objects, is it not?"
She nodded.
"But that is not what you do, is it? You use the objects to pull images from the present, to see where the owners are or what they are doing. Not strictly psychometry, more a light mind-meld, using the object in hand as a link."
Put like that, he was right. She'd never thought about it before. “But why is it showing up now?"
"It's probably a result of the mind-meld we did to find Jake. Up until then, you hadn't realized the full extent of your capabilities."
Another shudder ran through her. Touching someone's mind so intimately that she felt their needs and desires wasn't a capability she wanted. “We have to stop Rachel. And we have to stop her tonight, before she kills anyone else. But we can't kill her. Something strange is going on with her." He rose, then pulled her up as well. “We may have no option.” He tugged her so close their bodies molded against each other, then wrapped his arms around her waist. “Have I ever mentioned the fact that you smell delicious?"
She grinned. “Even when I've been throwing my guts up in the toilet?"
"Even then,” he said and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Let's go capture this vampire of yours." Right then, with her lips still tingling from his brief kiss and his arms around her waist so tight it felt as if he would never let her go, moving was the last thing she wanted to do. But move she had to if she wanted to stop Rachel killing again.>"And that's why you're here?"
"Partially.” It was no good lying to her—she would sense it the minute he tried. And if she was involved in the disappearances, it would only make matters worse.
"And you're not here alone."
It was a statement rather than a question, and unease slithered through his gut. Elizabeth knew about Nikki. How? Had she checked the hotel register when she'd felt his presence this afternoon, or had she known all along that Nikki was here with him?
Their chance meeting might not owe so much to chance as to planning. “She's not a companion. She's a thrall."
It might have been dangerous telling Elizabeth that, but it was just as dangerous not telling her. Even if she wasn't involved in whatever was happening here at the resort, he wouldn't put it past her to seek Nikki out and play a few games with her. He'd seen her do it to lovers of her other fledglings too often in the past. And Elizabeth's games always ended with bloodshed. But if she thought Nikki no more than a thrall, a servant to his wishes and desires, she might leave her alone. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow again. “I remember telling you about thralls. You swore at the time you could never do it to another."
"I've sworn a lot of things over the years.” He shrugged again. “But I found I just needed the company." "You always did. It was one of your failings as a vampire. You'd rather talk to your prey than eat them." He smiled slightly. “Still do."
She sighed softly. “Where did I go wrong?"
"You didn't."
He touched her hand, briefly wrapping his fingers around hers. Her palm was heavily blistered, which could have only happened if she'd grabbed something silver. Perhaps a silver knife—just like the one that had stabbed Jake.
Her pulse was slow but steady. She wasn't worried by his appearance here. Maybe she thought he presented no real threat. “So tell me,” he asked after a moment. “Why are you here?"
"Why am I anywhere?” Her gaze met his, challenging him. Ask what you came here to ask , it said. Don't play games with me.
He let go of her hand and picked up his wine, taking a drink. “Are you here to hunt?"
"I hunt every day, Michael, no matter where I am."
True. But it wasn't so much the sweet strength of human blood she was addicted to, but the rush of her victim's fear and loathing, the sense of power and utter domination such a killing gave her. And while there had been a spate of disappearances from the hotel, all but three of those had returned. If Elizabeth was hunting, she wasn't doing it here or in nearby Jackson Hole.
"What happened to Vance Hutton?"
A slow smile spread across her face. “What do you think happened to him?" He studied her for a moment. Hutton was dead, consumed by Elizabeth—that much was obvious from the amused light in her eyes. He would have been too tasty a morsel for her to resist. Michael wondered where she'd dumped the body. “Are you involved in the disappearances?" Excitement began to overtake the amusement in her eyes. She'd always liked a challenge. “Maybe.” She paused. “Are you here to stop me?"
He met her gaze steadily. “Maybe."
"Interesting. What if I say I am not in this alone?"
