rhythm to some unheard beat.
A warning tingled across her skin. They weren't lights. Weren't flame, either. Curiosity piqued, she walked around the pool and down the rough stone steps leading to the tennis courts.
She continued on, her footsteps sure despite the darkness. Oddly enough, she could see quite clearly.
Everything seemed bright, like frost shining on grass in the first rays of sunlight.
Her night vision had always been good, but never like this. What in the hell was happening to her? First
Ginger, now this. She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. Perhaps she should go back to the room and talk to Michael. But then, would he really help her? Or would he tell her only what he thought she needed to know?
She bit her lip. Ahead, the pearls of light continued their dance, swaying back and forth like autumn leaves tossed in the wind. She had to see what they were.
Manicured lawn gave way to meadow grass. Trees loomed—rich scented cottonwoods and ghostly aspens —casting threatening shadows through the ice-bright darkness.
The closer she got to the pearls, the more obvious it became that they had a life of their own. They reminded her of miniature comets, their incandescent tails trailing sparks through the night.
She stopped behind the deep-grooved trunks of some aspens. Half a dozen flames danced in the clearing, all circling an outcropping of rock. There was no wind, no sound, yet the hairs on her arms stood on end, and cold fingers of air crept across her skin. Evil was gathering out there in the darkness beyond the flames.
They danced on regardless, shivering and twirling to some tune of their own. They were too ethereal in form to be some sort of bird or animal, and their movements too controlled for them to be any sort of weather phenomenon.
The sense of evil grew closer, chilling in its intensity. She rubbed her arms and glanced at the flames.
They seem oblivious to everything but their dance. Should she somehow warn them? Whatever the flames were, they were doing no harm, simply enjoying the night and their dance. But whatever approached out there in the darkness was coming for them.
But how did you warn flames that danger was headed their way? She bit her lip, then stepped forward.
Only to stop as a warning tingled across the back of her neck. Someone was behind her.
Fear surged. She spun, but far too late. Something hit the side of her head, and the darkness claimed her.
Michael opened the patio door and stepped into the crisp night. The silence was intense, almost stifling.
To his left and right he could hear steady heartbeats—couples sleeping the night away. Like Nikki should be.
His gaze swept the darkness. Where in the hell had she got to? He made for the steps leading down to the pool, half expecting her to be swimming in the dark, clothes and all. But the clear water lay undisturbed.
He braced his hands on his hips, studying the night uneasily. Nikki could take care of herself, and had for many years before he'd come onto the scene. But there was a feel to this place he just didn't like. There was more than disappearances happening here, of that he was sure.
She could be anywhere. He opened the link and searched the darkness for the flame of her thoughts.
After several minutes he found her. If the distance of her thoughts was anything to go by, she was a good quarter mile away from the hotel. Why? Didn't she know it wasn't wise to wander around in the dark out here? Besides all the grizzly and brown bears, there was also the suspected vampire element living here.
He headed quickly down the steps and past the tennis courts, only running once he hit the meadow grass. The night became a blur around him. In the space of a heartbeat, he was with her.
She was sitting on a rock, her hands covering her face. She wasn't crying and her thoughts were free of hurt. But they were also indistinct. It was almost as if he were viewing them through some sort of haze.
He frowned.
Then he smelled the blood. Hunger surged, along with anger—at the person who'd touched her, at himself for letting her walk out that door alone.
'Nikki?' He knelt in front of her. Blood smeared her fingers and glistened in her hair. Hunger clenched his gut. He needed to feed or his demon-half might wrest control again. 'Are you all right?'
'Yes.' She sighed and pulled her hands away from her face. A cut on her forehead disappeared into her hairline. Blood smeared the left side of her face. He gently probed the wound. She winced, but remained silent. Thankfully, the cut wasn't deep. She'd probably have one hell of a bruise in the morning, though.
'What happened?' he asked. He could smell her blood on his hand and clenched his fingers against the sudden urge to taste it.
'Something attacked me.'
Why would someone attack her out here in the middle of nowhere? It didn't make any sense. 'What were you doing?'
She shrugged. 'Nothing much.'
Her gaze flickered away from his, studying the night behind him. Why was she lying? 'Did you sense something out here?'
She frowned. 'I was standing near that grove of aspens when I sensed evil approaching. Not exactly vampire-type evil but something else—something more sinister. Then someone hit me, and I blacked out.'
Which didn't tell him why she was out here in the first place. 'And you didn't feel or hear the approach of the person who attacked you?'
'No.'
The vagueness behind her words and her thoughts worried him. Maybe the bump on the head had given her a concussion. He'd better call the resort's doctor when they got back to their room.
'Are you up to walking back to the hotel?'
'I'm fine.'
No reaction to his question, no flash of annoyance in her thoughts. Worry bit through him. 'Can you stand?'
'Yes.'
He touched her arm, and she rose. There was no life in her eyes, no rainbow splash of color through the link. It was almost as if she was on automatic pilot. What in the hell had happened out here?
She began walking—away from the hotel, not towards it. He cursed and picked her up. She didn't struggle, didn't react in any way. The night blurred as he raced back to the hotel room.
He placed her on the bed, then washed the blood from his hands before wetting a cloth. He sat beside her and carefully cleaned her face.
'I'm okay. Stop worrying.'
She still sounded out of it. 'I'm calling a doctor just to be sure.'
'No.'
She touched his arm, her fingers pressing heat into his skin. Too much heat, in fact. He jerked his arm away from her touch. His flesh was red and beginning to blister. The sliver of worry became a knife.
'Really, I'll be fine,' she continued softly. 'I just need to sleep a while.'
He had a feeling that whatever was wrong with her wasn't going to be cured by a conventional doctor.
Something had happened out there in the field, something beyond the norm.
Besides, if it were just a concussion, she should be okay. She was a thrall. She shared his life force and could recover from just about any wound, given time.
'Please,' she murmured, closing her eyes.
He frowned, but the plea in her voice was one he could not ignore. He rose from the bed. She sighed and snuggled down into the thick comforter. Almost instantly, she was asleep. He pulled up a chair and rested his feet on the end of the bed. For the next three hours, he watched her. She barely stirred, but her dreams were filled with flame and sorrow. Worry continued to eat at him.
Dawn was spreading golden fingers across the cover of night when he finally rose. His need for blood was an ache that thrummed through his body. He had to hunt, and he had to do so before the day dawned fully or the other guests woke. He doubted if his control would last another twelve hours. It had taken several years to fully
