His irritation seared the link. 'Don't jump to conclusions, Nikki. It's dangerous.'
She snorted. 'And so is getting so lost in the past's afterglow that you can't smell the shit that's under your nose.'
He glanced at her, his expression so angry she took a hasty step back. 'Do not speak of her that way,' he warned softly.
Energy danced across her fingertips. She held her weapon in check and glared at him. 'Then don't ignore me or brush aside my suspicious just because you hold fond memories of that woman. People change, regardless of what you seem to think. Don't let the past color your judgement of the present.'
'I'm not.'
'Aren't you? You haven't even talked to her, and yet you're saying she can't be involved with the kidnappings or Jake's stabbing.'
He thrust a hand through his hair. Anger still whisked through the link, but it was muted by a hint of confusion. And guilt. 'You never saw the woman in the warehouse, and there's more than one female vampire on this Earth.'
But this particular female vampire was the only one who could totally destroy whatever feelings Michael might have for her . Nikki rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. 'Are you going down to talk to her?'
He sighed. It was a sound full of regret. 'No. Not yet. Seline is expecting a report this evening, and we should be seen in the restaurant to keep our cover intact.'
If this woman was involved in the kidnappings, then their cover might be well and truly blown. If Michael had sensed her presence then why wouldn't she, as his creator, know he was here? Jasper had always seemed to know where Monica was.
'When do you plan to talk to her, then?'
'After dinner. If she keeps to past patterns, she'll be in the bar, on the hunt for someone new to seduce.'
She had a sudden vision of a black widow spider, and a chill raced across her skin. Did this particular widow follow tradition and devour its mates? And if so, how had Michael escaped her net?
He tucked his fingers around her elbow and propelled her away from the pool. He seemed in an awful hurry again. Annoyance flashed through her, but she held her tongue. Anger wasn't going to get her anywhere. That much was obvious.
They changed in their room and headed down to the restaurant. Dinner was a silent affair. If we're here
After an hour of silence—an hour in which he'd either contemplated his untouched soup or stared thoughtfully out the window—she took the napkin off her lap and threw it on the table. 'I gather you don't want my company when you meet the ex-.' Her voice was tart, but she didn't really care. She grabbed her purse and stood up. 'So I'll just head on up to our room.'
His gaze jumped to hers. There was both understanding and annoyance in his eyes. 'She's no threat, Nikki.'
'No threat because there's no chance of a relationship between you and me, or no threat because you don't love her anymore?'
He didn't answer, and her anger stirred again. He was so pigheaded he'd probably turn to this damn woman just to get her out of his life. And all because of some vague, almost chivalrous concept that he had to protect her from the darkness of his life. As if she couldn't find enough darkness in her own life!
'Just don't forget what you came here to do,' she continued. 'Listen to what she says with your mind, not your heart.' And remember what we shared. What we could still share, if only you'd give us a
Not giving him the chance to reply and maybe break her heart, she made a hasty retreat from the room.
Michael scrubbed a hand across his jaw. The urge to run after Nikki, to hold her close and soothe away the hurt in her warm amber eyes, was so strong he actually half-stood. He sat back down, then grabbed his glass and downed the remainder of his wine.
He'd acted like a fool today. Acted like the young man he'd once been back in Dublin when he'd first set eyes on Elizabeth. And he wasn't even sure why. Hell, it had been a very long time indeed since Elizabeth had held any real grip on his thoughts or emotions.
Maybe it was simply the shock of feeling her here in America, the one place he'd always thought he would be free of her memory.
But Nikki was right. Two hundred years was a long time, and people could change. He had. He was no longer the young fool so rapturously in love with the dark-haired, doe-eyed Englishwoman that he'd willingly sacrificed life and all he had ever known to be by her side. No longer the man who had visited for a day of laughter in Paris two hundred years ago and ended up staying for more than a month. A month in which his resolution not to drink human blood, and maybe even his sanity, had been sorely tested.
There was a lot of darkness in Elizabeth, even if during his brief time with her he had never actually witnessed any real atrocities. He certainly couldn't deny she was capable of it, though.
She was his maker, and part of his heart would always belong to her. That was inevitable, and maybe even the reason he had acted as he had today. But his lifestyle had given him a strength she would never have, a strength that muted, if not cut, the ties that bound them.
It was probably the only reason he still lived to laugh and remember the good times with her. Most of her fledglings died young in her embrace.
He sighed softly, then rose. He'd better get this meeting over with. Given the furious state in which she'd left, he wouldn't put it past Nikki to go hunting Matthew or MacEwan's niece alone. She did stupid things like that when she was angry.
He was tempted to reach out through the link and tell her he was sorry for the thoughtless way in which he'd acted. But maybe it was better to wait until he could tell her in person. She deserved that much, at least. Besides, the more he opened the link, the harder it would be to keep it closed.
He made his way across the lobby and into the stylish bar. It was crowded with men and women dressed to the nines. Those who weren't sitting at the bar or around the scattered tables were slow dancing to the strains of a waltz being played on the piano.
He scanned the crowd and saw her sitting at the bar, watching a young man in the far corner. That the young man had a woman with him wouldn't have mattered to Elizabeth had she decided she wanted him.
As if she'd felt his stare, she turned around. There was no surprise in her dark, honey-colored gaze, only a welcoming warmth. Michael smiled. She must have sensed his presence near the pool earlier.
She stood as he approached, a smile touching her ruby lips. Like Nikki, she was short, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. Her dark hair had been pulled into the bun she favored for evening wear, and seemed to make her features look severe, almost gaunt. Or maybe they'd always been that way, and he'd never really noticed before.
'Michael,' she said, her voice melodious, soothing. 'So nice to see you again.'
'And you.' He kissed her cheeks and sat on the barstool next to her. 'Didn't think I'd ever see you in this part of the world.'
She grimaced prettily. 'I still prefer Paris, darling. So much more civilized.' She hesitated, generous lips curving into the smile he had once ached to see. 'Do you remember Paris? We had such fun.'
'Yes, we did.' Until she had tried—and very nearly succeeded—in bringing back his bloodlust. He ordered them both drinks from the bartender then touched her face, running his hand down the silk of her pale cheek. Her skin was hot—hotter than what was normal for a vampire. 'Do you still own that apartment?'
Her smile deepened. Heat flared deep in her eyes, echoing through him, though it was little more than the
