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She heard the door open, then Jake's voice greeting Michael. She sighed, gathered some clothes, then headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.
When she entered the living room ten minutes later, Michael was on the sofa reading a newspaper, his bare feet propped up on the ornate coffee table. He looked casual, at ease—an image at odds with the tension she could still feel in him. She didn't bother trying to read his thoughts, simply because she knew he'd block her. Next to his feet were two plastic bags. Dale Wainwright's belongings, no doubt. Jake was standing near the windows. He glanced around, but his welcoming smile failed to mask the concern in his eyes. “I hate to hurry you, Nik, but we really need to get moving on this." She sat down opposite Michael, who made no comment at her choice of seating. “What's happened,”
she said, picking up the plastic bag with the bra in it. Images skittered through her mind, muted flashes of color and sound. She only had to reach a little and she'd be with Dale Wainwright, sharing her thoughts and her feelings. Nikki licked her lips, not sure she was ready to face all that again.
"They found the second victim,” Jake said grimly. “From what the cops said to Mark, she was pretty beaten up. Worse than the first victim."
"Then we'd better hurry.” She took a deep breath and met Michael's dark gaze. “I don't like the feel of the images coming from this. You'll pull me out if things get too heavy, won't you?" Irritation seared the link, though his face remained expressionless. “Of course." She opened the plastic bag and let the bra fall into her hand. Images surged, too fast and too sharp to capture fully. She frowned, trying to gain some focus, trying to see where Dale was. Control it, Nikki. Don't let yourself be pulled too deeply into her mind. Going deep might be the only way I can find out where she is. The images flowed past her, quicksilver thrusts that refused to be pinned. She bit her lip and pushed a little deeper. Fear swam around her, a cloying scent that clogged her throat, making it difficult to breathe. It's too dangerous. Just sort through the images, and we'll see where they lead us. They didn't have the time—Dale didn't have the time. She could feel it in the other woman's fear—feel it in her hurt and humiliation.>“All I need now is coffee, and my life is once again complete." He raised a dark eyebrow, amusement in his eyes. “Really?” His hand slipped between her legs. “You sure I can't interest you in anything else?"
Pleasure rippled through her. “Well, maybe there is one other thing I might be interested in.” Her voice came out a little breathless, and she growled in frustration when his touch left her. He smiled and caught her hand, kissing her fingertips. “I have discovered something over these last three weeks."
"What's that?” She hooked a leg over his hip and pulled him close, so that the hard length of him rested against her. Gently, she began rocking her hips.
Heat slithered through the link between them, wildfire ready to explode.
"I've discovered that celibacy is not something I care for."
"Well, don't come to me looking for pity. You're the one who won't let me accompany you."
"I know, but someone has to keep you safe.” He leaned forward and kissed her with a tender urgency that shivered through her entire being.
"I don't want safe,” she said against his lips. “I just want you." His gaze met hers, rich with desire and love. “You have my heart, you have my soul, and right now, you can have as much of my body as you can handle."
She raised an eyebrow, a grin teasing her lips. “I can handle quite a lot, you know." "I certainly hope so,” he murmured and rolled on top of her. She shifted her legs to accommodate him, and he slid deep inside. “Oh my,” she whispered, wrapping her legs around him. “That's an awful lot of missing you have there." He grinned at her. “You haven't felt the half of it yet, my love." And he proceeded to show her just what he meant.
* * * *
The scent of fresh coffee stirred her sometime later. She yawned and stretched and decided she felt like a cat who'd just feasted on cream—deliciously wicked and terribly contented. It was, she thought with a smile, amazing just how much several hours of good loving could improve your outlook on life. Michael appeared in the doorway. He'd obviously taken a shower because his dark hair was still damp. He was barefoot, and looked damn sexy in thigh hugging jeans and a black cotton sweater—one, she noted with pleasure, that she'd bought him just before he'd left for Ireland.
"Coffee, ma'am,” he said, placing a tray on her bedside table. “And breakfast." She scooted up in the bed and accepted the coffee he handed her. She took a sip—it was strong and sweet and just the way she liked it—and sighed in contentment. “Now I am a happy woman."
"So easily pleased,” he teased and sat down beside her. “How is your arm?" She glanced down in surprise, having totally forgotten about it. The doctor had placed a clear plastic film over the wound, and it was easy to see that there was no sign of infection. “Fine. Doesn't even hurt when I move it."
He touched her arm, gently probing around the wound. “It should nearly be healed, but we'll leave the film on until tomorrow."
She nodded and tried to ignore the sliver of unease. When he'd shared his life force with her, he'd also shared his amazing healing capabilities. It was something she was still trying to adjust to.
"Tell me about the vampire who attacked you."
She shrugged and sipped her coffee. “There's not much to tell. He had to be a fairly new vampire, and he was pretty much convinced of his invincibility."
"Most newly turned are,” Michael said, voice dry. “Comes with the condition, I'm afraid." She raised an eyebrow. “Were you?"
His dark gaze searched hers. She wondered why. “Yes,” he said after a moment, “though it took me less time than others to realize my mortality."
"Why?"
He hesitated. “Elizabeth generally liked her men young and in harems. I was but one of three she turned that year, and the shock of learning that—combined with having to fight for her affections—brought me to my senses sooner."
Pain slithered through her, even though she knew it was ridiculous. They both had pasts—and ex's—that were best forgotten. Yet she hadn't given up life and everything she'd ever known for her ex-. “So why did you stay with her?"
He smiled—a gentle, loving smile that warmed her entire being. “I have never said I was very bright back then."
Which didn't entirely answer her question, but she didn't push.
"Can you remember anything else about this vampire?” he asked. She frowned. “He was wearing a leather jacket. And biker's colors." Though he raised an eyebrow, he didn't seem surprised. “Did you recognize them?" She shook her head. “I wasn't exactly concentrating on them. But he knew my name, which has to mean he somehow knew I was coming."
"Yes. And until we know exactly why that vamp was after you, we had better be doubly careful.” He glanced at the clock. “Jake will be up here in a few minutes. Apparently his friend is getting pretty worried."
