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"Like hell.” Yet even as she said the words, fear trembled through her. Kinnard sucked deep and smiled. “Ah, there's nothing that tastes quite so good." Damn it, she couldn't let him get to her. He wasn't going to get fat on her fear, not if she could do anything to stop it.
"Why the gnome face, Kinnard?” she bit back. “Why not the pretty boy features? Hell, evil coming from such perfection would terrorize your victims more, wouldn't it?"
"This is the face I was born with, and the one I am most comfortable with.” His mouth twisted. “Emmett is the pretty boy. Because I'm his twin, I can share his form."
"And the slug?"
"We come from a family of shifters."
"And ugly boy got the ugly form?"
Hate glittered in his eyes. Hate and old anger. Yep, this was definitely one of his hot buttons.
"That form is more versatile than most would think."
"But I bet you weren't exactly welcome amongst the shifter fraternity.” Especially considering what he liked doing while in that form...
He snorted softly. “They're all—” He stopped and swung around. “So, your lover is free."
"You never can keep a good vampire down,” she commented, twisting and tugging on her bonds less cautiously. Now that Kinnard knew Michael was free, her window of escape had decidedly shrunk.
"It won't matter, you know. I'm not foolish enough to leave the church unguarded." Even as he spoke, the sounds of fighting began to drift down into their hole.
"And here I thought you didn't have too many conscripts left in town." Kinnard flashed her a cold, cruel smile. “There are the women and the barkeep. And since your vampire considers himself a protector of women, I doubt whether he'd use full force on them. It'll delay him, and in that delay, you'll die."
He began to murmur again. She knew she couldn't let him complete whatever spell it was he was working on, because if he did, she suspected she'd be gone. The two men on the roof had died with a smile on their faces, and the spell was probably the reason why. She tilted her head back, her gaze locking on the coffin. Reaching deep, she called forth her flames, putting as much force into them as she could, willing them to burn wood and flesh and bone until there was nothing left, not even dust.
Power burned through her body and leapt from her fingers in a huge ball of fire. Dunleavy made a strangled sound in this throat and flung out a hand. White light darted across the room, clashing with the flames. For an instant, they stopped, as white light and red rolled and boiled around each other in midair. Another wave of power surged through her, though this time the call was not her doing. It was almost as if the flames themselves were calling for more energy. The fire ball burned brighter, then broke away from the white light and leapt across the coffin.
Kinnard's furious howl wasn't even remotely human. Nikki tugged harder on the ropes, and managed to get one arm free. She twisted, grabbing the rope binding her right wrist and pulling on it as hard as she could.
Air screamed above her. She looked up and saw the hilt of the knife aimed at her head. She threw herself away, the rope burning into her wrist as it bought her to an abrupt halt. The knife hilt smashed across the side of her face, and everything seemed to go red. Skin tore, bone cracked. Despite her vow, she screamed.
There was an answering bellow from above, and fury burned through her mind, through her soul. That was the answer, she thought dazedly. That would free them. Save them.
"Move and she dies,” Kinnard yelled. “Your choice, vampire."
"If you don't move, your brother burns.” Michael's voice was cold, harsh. And weary. Nikki blinked back tears and fought the pain that threatened to sweep her into unconsciousness. Kinnard stood above her, his arm raised, the silver knife glittering in the harsh light of the flames behind them.
"My magic protects my brother. The flames only consume wood." She closed her eyes and reached for the link. You can use the flames to attack Kinnard. He won't be expecting that.
You sure?
Yes. Why she was so sure, she couldn't say. But she'd always trusted her instincts, and she wasn't about to stop now. Do you remember that moment of oneness when we last made love?
Sunshine ran briefly through her mind. I'm not likely to forget something as beautiful as that. If we repeat that, I think we might be able to use our psi skills. Kinnard's spells cater to the particular talents of a particular person. By binding our minds, we bypass his spell.
"Show yourself,” Kinnard continued. “Come down here. But cautiously, mind you, or the knife will feast on the girlie's heart."
"I'm coming down."
Through the blur of tears, she saw his silhouette appear briefly above them. Then he crouched and leapt down. She tried to look at him, but Kinnard's boot hit her cheek. Pain flashed white-hot through her face, and bile rose to her throat. She swallowed heavily and remained still. If I had the strength and the time, I'd rip the bastard apart limb by limb for what he's done to you. I'm okay. It was a lie, and he undoubtedly knew it. We need to link. Done. He thrust the link wide open, and suddenly, she was with him, in him, part of him. Their souls twined, merged, and every fiber of their beings rejoiced in a joining that was sensual, powerful, and very definitely otherworldly.
Power surged through them, became them. Flame flickered to life across Michael's fingers, and he raised them.
Kinnard's eyes widened. “That's not possible."
"I warned you, Kinnard,” he said. “You didn't know enough about either of us." Kinnard made a gargling sound, and the knife plunged toward her. Michael made a flicking motion with one hand, and the knife was torn from Kinnard's fingers. Then that energy was battering Kinnard, and he flew across the room, smashing through the shelving before sliding to the ground. Michael's gaze met hers. Suddenly, the power that flowed through them both was concentrating on her, sweeping down her limbs, across her fingers, and around her ankles. The ropes binding her fell away. Get Kinnard. Was it her thought or his? She wasn't sure, and in the end, it didn't matter. Not as long as Kinnard was taken care of.
