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"I don't love her.” It was the truth. He hadn't loved Elizabeth for a very long time—if he'd ever truly loved her. It had just taken him a long time to realize it.
"But you did love her once."
"Perhaps.” He touched her back, feeling the chill in her skin through the dampness of her clothes. She needed warmth, not darkness and death. He guided her past the traps. “Let's move, before she gets back."
She shivered, but he wasn't sure if it was the cold or the thought of Elizabeth returning.
"Will she come after us in revenge for Matthew?"
He doubted very much whether Elizabeth would really even care about the boy. She'd had her fun, and it was Cordell who'd wanted the teenager's help, not her. Besides, if she had really wanted them dead, she would have attacked right away, when she'd had the upper hand.
"I think it's Cordell we have to worry about, not Elizabeth." Doubt ran through the link, as bright as fire. “Don't trust her, Michael. The darkness in her heart is stronger than you think."
Seline had said much the same thing, and he wasn't about to take either warning lightly. “It's Cordell who's pulling everyone's strings, Elizabeth's included.” And it was about time he did something about it. But not before he got Nikki out of this resort and back home to safety.
Chapter Eighteen
Nikki flopped on the bed and closed her eyes. Images ran past her eyelids—visions of fear intermixed with pleasure. Elizabeth had sucked Matthew's mind dry even as she made love to him. And it had all happened in that office, with Cordell watching avidly.
Sick. They were all sick. She swallowed heavily. They might be sick, but they were also very dangerous. Michael had locked all the doors to their room, but she couldn't escape the notion that if Cordell wanted to get in here, he could do so without using the doors. Easily. From the bathroom came the sound of running water. Michael preparing the hot tub for a bath she didn't want. She didn't care about the need to get warm. She just wanted Michael to take her in his arms and hold her. She had a very strong suspicion time was running out for them. She knew, too, that he intended to ask her to go home. But he had a snowball's chance in hell of making that happen. He was going to need her help to survive the battle that loomed, and she had no intention of going anywhere.
"You're not getting undressed."
She opened her eyes. He leaned against the bathroom door frame, dark hair tousled and a warm light in his eyes. “I don't have the energy."
"If you don't get up and undressed, I'll throw you in, clothes and all."
"If I go in, you're going in, buddy."
His sudden grin was almost boyish, and he looked so damn sexy she just wanted to grab him and kiss him and make love to him. How could he treat her with such warmth and tenderness and expect to keep her at arm's length?
She couldn't. Wouldn't. Not this time.
"Up, woman. You need to get clean, and you need to get warm. I will not take no for an answer." She smiled slightly. Neither would she. She kicked off her shoes then stopped. “Sorry. Too much effort involved."
"You're going to make me pick you up, aren't you?"
"Uh huh.” She closed her eyes and waited.
His hands slipped under her, trailing heat through her body. He lifted her, holding her close, his grip gentle and his body warm against hers.
"Now, this I can handle.” Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his neck and lightly kissed his chin.
“I'll warm up in no time if you just keep your arms around me like this."
"But it won't wash the dirt from your skin,” he said dryly as he carried her into the bathroom and stopped beside the hot tub. “And I may have a vampire's strength, but even my arms would protest after the first hour or so of holding you."
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a dead weight?" He glanced down at her, dark eyes suddenly intense. “Never that,” he said softly. Then the boyish grin hit her again, warming her senses to overload. “In you go."
"Don't,” she yelped, only to have the words snatched away as she went under the water. She came up spluttering. The bubbling water was frothy and hot. The mild perfume, a mix of jasmine and rose, caught her nose and made her sneeze. Foam flew, covering her face and hair. Michael watched, a silly grin on his face.
"Think it's funny, do you?” she muttered, and hit him with kinetic energy. A second later, he was spluttering in the hot tub beside her. “Told you,” she continued, voice all innocence. “I go in, you go in."
"Witch.” He grabbed her shirt and tugged her toward him. “Whatever am I going to do with you?" She kissed his wet lips. “Washing me would be a good start." He raised an eyebrow. “Too weak, are we?"
"No.” She smiled sweetly. “I just want your hands on me."
"Well,” he said, sounding as put out as all hell—an image somewhat destroyed by the amused anticipation in his eyes, “for the sake of sleeping in clean sheets, I guess I shall have to help." He undid her shirt and slid it from her shoulders, his hands skimming her skin and caressing heat through her body. Her jeans and undergarments quickly followed and were tossed wetly on the tiles beside her shirt.
