Kiss The Night Goodbye (Nikki & Michael 4)

She rolled onto her hands and feet and crawled out of the unfinished pentagram. Pain was a distant echo, held at bay by the oneness, but they'd both pay for it later. She knew that without a doubt. Michael hadn't moved. He raised another hand, and suddenly Kinnard was there, right in front of them, squirming like the worm he was as he dangled several feet off the ground.

"You know, if I had the time, I'd ensure your death was as painful as I could possibly make it." Michael's voice was flat, devoid of any sort of emotion. Yet, she could feel his anger, his weariness, and most of all, his desire to just get it over with so they could get back to a more normal life.

"But as much as you deserve to die like you made your victims die, I can't be bothered wasting the time on a worm. Especially when I have wedding plans to finalize." Kinnard snorted. “Your woman's dead, vampire. I killed her. Arranged to have her pretty head sliced off in an accident."

"You think so? I think she's sitting very close by." Kinnard's daze darted to her then back to Michael. “No."

"Yes. That's Nikki, Kinnard. Not Seline. Your ceremony was doomed to failure from the very start." He screamed then, a high, unearthly sound that vibrated off the walls and sent chills racing down her spine. The power surged. Kinnard's silver knife rose from the ground and slashed with unearthly force across Kinnard's neck. The screaming stopped, and the power died. Kinnard hit the ground, his body flopping at odd angles, his head rolling away into the darkness. Suddenly, Michael dropped beside her and carefully dragged her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed the good side of her face against his chest, listening to the wild beat of his heart, knowing her own strained just as badly.

"So,” she said, her voice cracked with exhaustion. “What now?"

"Now, we sit here and watch the bonfire while we wait for the cavalry to come and pick up the pieces." And that's exactly what they did.

Chapter Fifteen

Nikki glanced at the clock as she leaned a shoulder against the windowsill. It was hard to believe that in ten minutes she'd become Mrs. Michael Kelly. Even though she'd been rushing around all week finalizing the details, part of her kept insisting it was nothing more than a giddy dream. Now, the day was here, and it wasn't a dream but reality. She'd been grinning like a village idiot all morning.

And even the weather gods had decided to bless them. Despite the fact that it had rained most of the week, yesterday and today had dawned fine and clear, giving the soggy ground a chance to dry out. Not that there was much grass or soil to be seen in the immediate area. It had all disappeared under the sea of buttercups that had been specially planted for the day. The pretty flowers—her favorites—also surrounded the path that ran from the house to the rose-covered gazebo. In the warm morning sun, the orange, yellow and red roses were glowing so brightly the building looked afire. She'd wanted a wedding that was simple. Just her and Michael and few close friends, here in the backyard of their home. Michael had taken the idea and run with it, and the stunning vista before her was the result.

"I wasn't about to let my one and only marriage begin on a simple note,” he said, as he stepped into the room. “Not when the woman I'm marrying deserves a whole lot more than that." She grinned, hitched up her dress and ran across the room. She flung her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly, then said, “You do realize, of course, that you've set the tone for the rest of our marriage." He raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes glittering with love and amusement. “So now I have to sit back and watch you fritter away my millions?"

"Why else does a girl marry a very old millionaire?” Still grinning, she stepped back and studied him. He looked absolutely divine in the old-fashioned morning suit. “You scrub up rather well.” Even the scar across his cheek had faded to a thin white line.

"And you, my love, look good enough to eat.” He tugged her into his arms again. “Hope all those pearl buttons down the back of this dress aren't as hard to undo as they look."

"No. They're harder."

"Hey,” Jake said behind them. “The groom is not supposed to be manhandling the bride until after the ceremony."

Michael kissed her quickly, then pulled back, a smile playing across his lips. “Who invited the spoilsport?"

Nikki's gaze met Jake's, her grin widening when she saw his expression was that of a proud father. Like Michael, he was wearing a morning suit, and with his longish blonde hair swept back, cut a rather rakish figure.

"I'm afraid the spoilsport and I come as a packaged deal."

"I draw the line at taking him on the honeymoon."

"Like I've got nothing better to do than watch you two lust after each other the next two weeks.” Jake shook his head in mock disgust. “Besides, I've seen Paris, and I very much doubt that you two will actually see much of it."

"That's very possible,” Nikki said, smiling as she momentarily lost herself in the warm, dark depths of Michael's eyes.

Jake cleared his throat. “Enough already. Michael, you're wanted downstairs." Michael caught her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. In eight minutes, you're officially mine. I was yours the day after we met. I just didn't realize it at the time. But you did realize it, and you didn't let go, and for that, I shall be forever grateful. He released her hand and left.

Jake stepped into the doorway. “You look smashing."

"You think?” She twirled, allowing the deep gold material to float around her. She'd never wanted a white wedding dress, simply because white didn't suit her, nor had she wanted anything remotely modern. It hardly seemed suitable when she was marrying a man over three hundred and sixty years old. When she'd seen this beautiful old gown in a renaissance shop, she'd fallen in love. And it had fit her perfectly, meaning it was meant to be.

"I think Mary would have been proud of you,” he said softly. Tears touched her eyes as memories of Jake's late wife rose in her mind. She blinked away the tears, leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “She'll always be with us, you know."

"I know.” He reached down and twined his fingers through hers. “You ready?"

"You bet,” she said, and headed outside to marry her vampire.

>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.