Hearts in Darkness

"She wasn't. She was trying to discover more information about Vance Hutton." Nikki frowned. “The actor? Why?"



"He's disappeared from an exclusive resort in Jackson Hole, and apparently he's not the first."



"So why are you getting involved?"



"The resort is the base for some form of dark force. Whether it is a vampire or something worse, Seline can't say. So she sends a killer to hunt a killer."



A chill raced across her flesh. What in the hell could be worse than a vampire like Jasper? “So how did my name get involved?"



He shrugged gracefully. “Seline's visions sometimes have a will of their own."



"And you believe her?"



His dark gaze met hers. “I would not be here otherwise."



Though she'd known this all along, having it said out loud seemed to make it final. Unchangeable. Like he'd taken the knife from her boot and sliced open her heart.



She looked down at her coffee. A tear ran down her cheek and splashed against the back of her hand. She ignored it. “What happens if the kid I'm looking for isn't in Jackson Hole?” Even though it felt as if someone were squeezing her throat tight, her voice came out even, as devoid of emotion as his.



"If it comes to that, you can search nearby areas during the day." She frowned. It was tempting, if only because she'd be close to Michael. Yet she couldn't escape the feeling that he wasn't telling her everything. “How expensive is this place?"



"The Circle will pay for everything."



"And in return?"



He hesitated. “You are to be my cover. The resort is geared towards couples." A couple? How could that work when he couldn't even touch her? And even if he could, could she survive touching and kissing and loving him, knowing all along it was nothing more than a lie? That after the mission was over he'd simply leave? “If you think you can share my bed and just walk away again, I've got news for you—I'm not that easy."



"I never thought you were.” He sighed and looked away. “Believe me, this is as hard for me as it is for you. But we have no other choice."



"Bullshit, Michael. We have plenty of other choices. You're just afraid to try.” As she'd been, not so long ago. Yet even then, even as he'd tried to make her admit her feelings, he'd warned he would never stay. That she could never share his world.



She hadn't believed it then, and she didn't believe it now.



"I have watched the passing of three centuries,” he said softly. “I have buried those that I cared about more times than I want to remember. I do not want to have to bury you as well."



"And I have lived just over a quarter of a century, but I've watched my mother, father and lover die brutal deaths. What makes us so different?"



"The fact that I must drink blood to survive.” His voice was as hard as his expression.



"A fact I'm well aware of, believe me."



He made a chopping motion with his hand. “Enough, Nikki. This is strictly a business proposition, nothing more."



After what they'd been through? After what they'd shared? Not likely.



"Okay then,” she said, her voice sharp. “When do we leave?" He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “No further arguments? Questions?"



"Nope. You can brief me on the details during the flight there."



"Okay.” He hesitated, his expression a little confused. “We have seats booked on the eight-thirty flight." She glanced at her watch. If she went home now, she'd have plenty of time to catch a shower and rest before she had to get ready. She gulped down the last of her coffee and rose.



"Since it's nearly ten and the sun plays havoc with your health, do you want to stay here? The sofa's still in the storeroom if you want to lie down."



"If that is all right by you.” He was regarding her warily, as if expecting a violent explosion at any second.



"I have to see MacEwan at five, so I'll come by and pick you up after that."



"Fine.” He frowned. “Are you okay?"



"Yes.” She picked up her keys and headed for the door, then hesitated, looking back. “The last time you were in Lyndhurst, you taught me a very important lesson. Life is for living. You cannot fear it. You cannot retreat from it. I'm not retreating, Michael, and I'm sure as hell not giving up. I never will." She walked out, slamming the door shut behind her.



Chapter Seven



The aircraft engines’ droning was the only sound that broke the silence. Night filled the cabin, and around him, people slept and dreamed.



Michael stretched out his legs, grateful that Seline had booked first-class seats. He wasn't sure he could have handled anything else right now—he hated flying at the best of times, especially in economy, with its cramped seats and lack of elbow room. Conditions that would have been made all the more unbearable with Nikki wedged beside him.



He'd known his blood lust might pose a threat to her, especially since she'd been the first human he'd tasted in well over three hundred years. Yet the urge to feed off her had been surprisingly easy to control. What he hadn't expected was the fierce and utter joy of simply seeing her again. The need to touch her, kiss her, had been so strong that he'd walked across the office to her desk before he'd managed to restrain himself.



But like his lust for blood, his desire for her was something he could not afford. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, then looked at her. She was asleep, curled up in the seat next to him, her dark chestnut hair falling across her delicate features like a veil. She smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, of life and love and everything he wanted and couldn't have.



He reached out, gently tucking behind her ear the silken wisps of hair. She stirred at his touch, murmuring something he didn't catch. He trailed his fingers down to her mouth, remembering the last time they'd kissed, and the warmth of her lips against his. Remembered their mind's fiery dance that had made them one in a way the mere joining of their bodies never could. Memories that were dangerously seductive when she was so close. He dropped his hand and stared out the window again. The plane was beginning its descent. Lights twinkled starlike in the darkness beyond the window. The resort was sending a limousine to pick them up from the airport—an extravagant service that wasn't really surprising, given the sort of money they were paying.



"Just how expensive is this place?” Nikki said softly.



He glanced at her. Her smoky amber eyes regarded him steadily. Had his touch woken her, or had she been feigning sleep? “I thought you said you couldn't read my thoughts?" She frowned. “I get a whisper every now and then. Most of the time, it feels like there's interference on the line. All I get is a dead sort of silence."



He had to hope so, given the psychic strength he was expending trying to keep the link closed between them—something that wouldn't have been possible before he'd shared his life force and made them one. The joining had given him that much control, at least. “Give it time, Nikki." She raised an eyebrow, her gaze clearly skeptical. “Will time make any real difference?" It wouldn't, and they both knew it. He could see the understanding, the hurt, deep in the amber depths of her eyes. “Have you got a photo of the child you're looking for?" She regarded him a minute longer, then shrugged and dug into her purse. “Matthew Kincaid,” she said, handing him a photo of a red-haired, gangly-looking youth. “Sixteen years old and has an I.Q. rated in the genius class. Few friends in or out of school, but plenty on the Net, according to his mother."



"And it was one of those friends who abducted him?"



She nodded. “Only the friend was a very old vamp with lots of vamp buddies." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why do you think it was a very old vampire he met?" She frowned slightly. “Just a feeling I got. She felt evil, like Jasper—only different."



"Different how?” And what was it about Lyndhurst that seemed to attract vampires like Jasper—and now this woman?



Her frown deepened, and worry etched deep lines across her forehead. He clenched his hand against the sudden desire to smooth them away.



"I don't know how to explain it,” she said softly. “It's just a feeling I get—a taste, if you like.” She hesitated, her gaze searching his. “Remember when you were following me through that park, before we actually met? I knew then what you were capable of. I knew you'd come to Lyndhurst to kill. But you didn't feel evil, and I never really feared you. Not like Jasper—or this woman." The fear she refused to show now ran wild in her thoughts. He touched her hand, gently entwining his fingers with hers. The warmth of her skin cut through him, as sharp as any knife. “Can you describe her?" She looked down, a small smile touching her lips. “No. She kept to the shadows. I only saw her assistants clearly."



"How many did she have?"



"Four or five. Which was odd, really, considering their quarry was only a gawky teenager." He frowned. If the vampire were as old as Nikki seemed to think, she certainly wouldn't have any need for one assistant, let alone five. “Did she say anything?" Nikki's shoulders tensed, and her heart rate jumped several notches. Hunger stirred to sluggish life deep in his gut. He frowned and untwined his fingers from hers. Too much too soon, he thought, and knew he was going to have to tread carefully around her. The hunger for her blood might be under control, but it hadn't yet abated.



She crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, a distancing that was as much mental as it was physical. Yet in her eyes he saw understanding. She knew what was happening to him.



"Actually, for a vampire she was a damn chatterbox. I don't think she intends to kill Matthew right away. She said they have other plans for him."



"I guess she didn't say what?"



"No vampire is that chatty.” Her voice held a slight edge of sarcasm. “Not the ones I've met, anyway." He smiled slightly. “Did she say anything else?"



She hesitated. “Yeah. She said I had the taste of a vampire on me, and that she didn't want to upset my master.” Her expression was curious and more than a touch afraid. “What did she mean by that?"



"It means she could sense my life force in you.” And meant this woman was old—older than he, even. Only the very old vampires knew about thralls—and only they could sense them. Could this woman be the darkness Seline had sensed at the resort?



"But what did she mean by my master?” She hesitated again, glancing around at the other passengers.



"Don't worry,” he said. “They're all asleep.” He'd touched their thoughts and made sure of that a few hours ago.



Her quick frown made him wonder if she'd realized what he'd done. She hated any sort of psychic intrusion, even when it was attempted on other people. And her first lover, Tommy, and to some extent Jasper, had certainly insured that she feared it.



"And why did she say I'm not human? If I'm not, then what the hell am I?"



"You are still human, Nikki, as I am still human."



She snorted. “Oh, that's so very comforting. You have a serious aversion to sunlight and drink blood to survive."



"And you do not."



"No. But there are drawbacks you haven't told me about, aren't there?"



"No,” he said, even though there were. Lots of them. Like being an easy target for those vampires old enough to know what she was—and how to use her to get to him and destroy him. If the vampire who'd taken Matthew was also involved in the resort kidnappings, they were both in serious danger. But he also knew he didn't have a hope in Hades of getting her to turn around and go home. As she'd warned, she didn't give up and she didn't give in. He'd just have to find some way to keep her out of trouble.



"Why can't you just be honest with me, Michael? Even on something as simple as this?" He looked away from the accusation in her eyes. “I can not change three hundred years of habit in a matter of months."



"Can't, or won't?” she muttered.



"Both.” Because honesty was a dangerous weapon when you held as many secrets as he did. She pulled her gaze from his, but not before he'd seen the glitter of tears. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and silently cursed the capriciousness of fate. Why couldn't it have just left well enough alone? He didn't want to hurt her, but he had no doubt that he would, and more than once—until she accepted they were something that could never be.



And what is she supposed to do in the long years that lie ahead? He shoved the thought aside and reached for the briefcase near his feet. “You should read this,” he said, handing her a manila folder.



"What is it?” She accepted the folder without looking at him.



"Background info. How we met, when we were married."



"I see we're on our honeymoon.” She snorted softly and glanced up. “That'll be a hard act to pull off when you won't even touch me."



"As you can see,” he said, ignoring the tartness in her words, “Seline kept as close to the truth as she could. Less room for mistakes that way."



"Are you rich? This implies you're a multimillionaire.” She raised an eyebrow and studied him warily. Why? What was it about wealth that worried her? “You cannot live for as long as I have without collecting a certain amount of financial independence."



"Which is a roundabout way of saying you're swimming in it.” She shook her head, then added in a voice that was little more than a murmur, “I really don't know anything about you, do I?" And that was the way he intended to keep it. He pointed to the ring taped to the top of the folder. “Your wedding ring."