"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."