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Michael climbed out of the cab and glanced up at the sky. It was close to ten, but the fog had hung around, muting the full force of the sun. Even so, he could feel it itching across his skin. He collected his bag and strode toward the hotel. He'd barely entered the lobby when the feeling that something was wrong hit him.
A feeling not helped when he saw Jake striding towards him.
"Michael,” Jake said, holding out his hand. “Nice to see you again." He restrained the urge to read Jake's thoughts and shook his hand impatiently. “What's wrong?" Jake sighed. “You're almost as bad as Nikki. There's no hiding a problem from either—"
"Is she okay?” he said sharply.
"She's fine. I'll take you there now.” Jake motioned Michael toward the elevator. Once the doors were closed, he continued, “She was attacked this morning by a vampire. She took care of him, but he managed to nick her arm with a knife, and I think she overextended her abilities." Relief ran through him. At least that explained the haze of pain he'd been getting from her all morning. “I gather it wasn't a random attack?"
Jake shook his head. “He knew her name."
"Did she get anything else from him?"
"No. He jumped through the window and fried rather than tell her anything." He frowned. That sounded more a compulsion than fear. If Nikki had overstretched her abilities, she certainly wouldn't have been much of a threat to the vampire—psychically, anyway. He could have escaped if he'd wanted to.
If it was a compulsion, it could mean real trouble. There weren't many vampires strong enough to force their will upon another brother of the night. Elizabeth had been capable of it. So was he. He knew of maybe three or four others, but none of them were currently in America. All of them were what he termed ‘master’ vampires—vampires who had lived long enough to fully understand and control all the gifts vampirism endowed.
And he had no doubt that this attack was somehow connected to the vampires who'd snatched the three women. It was too much of a coincidence, otherwise.
"How many people know she's staying here?"
"Besides me and Mary, only Mark. Nik's helping me find his wife."
"Yes, I know all about that.” The elevator came to a halt, and the door opened, revealing a burly security guard. Michael glanced at Jake. “Thanks for taking extra precautions." Jake smiled. “I love her, too, you know."
Michael nodded and tried to curb the growing need to see her. To take her in his arms and breathe in the sweet, warm scent of her. “Has she tried to track Dale Wainwright yet?"
"No. But only because of the attack."
At least he had something to thank the attacker for. He had no doubt she would have tried it otherwise—despite the dangers involved. Sometimes, she could be incredibly blind to her own safety. Jake swiped the card through the lock. “How did you know it was Dale Wainwright we're looking for?" Michael waited until they were in the suite and the door closed to answer. “The Circle sent me here to sort it out. We think a gang of vampires are behind the kidnappings." He dropped his bag on the sofa and walked over to the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to breathe deep. She smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. Of life and love, and everything he'd ever longed for. She was asleep, facing away from him, shoulders bare and one arm exposed. His body stirred at the thought of holding her close, caressing the warm silk of her skin—something he could not do just yet. She was here, she was safe and, for now, that was all he needed to know.
"Oh great,” Jake said behind him. “So Dale could be dead right now, for all we know?" "Not necessarily. The first victim lasted almost two weeks before they killed her.” Two weeks that had surely been hell, but there was no need to tell Jake that. “You want to show me where the attack against Nikki happened?"
Jake led him into the other suite, and he walked across to the window. The glass had yet to be replaced, and soot still dusted the balcony below them. “What time did the attack happen?" Jake frowned. “A little before seven. Why?"
He shrugged. “Just curious.” At that hour, the rising sun had little strength. The only way it could have killed Nikki's attacker was if the vampire was fairly new to his condition. If that were the case, even the sunrise would have been deadly. So how did he get into the hotel, if not via the streets?
"Has the Circle given you any idea what we're up against?” Jake continued. Michael glanced toward him. “We're?"
Jake's expression was resolute. “You're not getting rid of either of us on this one." He'd known he couldn't stop Nikki's involvement—he might as well try to stop the San Francisco earth from ever shaking. But he had hoped to avoid dragging Jake in as well, especially since he'd just recovered from major surgery.
"What does Mary think of you getting involved?"
Jake shrugged. “Mark's a good friend. I've known him all my life. Mary understands that." Michael studied him for a moment. Mary might have understood his friendship with Mark, but if Jake's thoughts were anything to go by, she certainly didn't understand his need to get involved with the case and perhaps endanger his life again. One long-time relationship headed for the rocks, Michael thought, and remembered Seline's warning.
He frowned and crossed his arms, watching the stirring breeze brush the remnants of the vampire from the balcony.
"Did your boss provide you with any other clues?” Jake continued. Michael smiled. Seline would laugh at the thought of anyone calling her his boss. She gave him assignments and ran the Circle, yes, but she was far from his employer. “Other than there being six vampires involved, no."
Jake grimaced. “We barely survived Jasper and Monica—how are we going to survive six of the bastards?"
"Not all vampires are as sick as Jasper.” He couldn't help the edge of self-derision in his voice. Mainly because many of them were—even him, in times past. And given what Seline had told him, these six certainly rated high in that category.
"Great.” Jake took a deep breath. “Look, I'll let you go back and get some rest. I told Nik to page me when she wakes."
Michael returned to the other suite and walked into the bedroom, stopping near the bed. He watched her breathe and listened to the steady beat of her heart—a siren's song that stirred the darkness in him despite his tight leash of control. He let his gaze drink in her face, from the fullness of her mouth to the small lines of laughter beginning to appear near her eyes. Lines that had not been there when they'd first met.
He stripped and climbed into bed. She stirred, her thoughts touching his, warm and fuzzy with sleep, yet still flushed with pain. Closing his eyes, he reached into her mind, easing the surface turmoil, drawing in her pain. After a while, she sighed, and her frown disappeared. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. And, for the first time in weeks, felt a sense of peace. Coming home had never felt so good.
