Dancing with the Devil (Nikki & Michael 1)

As if she needed reminding. He tugged her forward. Black waves rippled across the lake's surface and raced away into the darkness. The water crept up her leg, then past her hips, and every step forward became more difficult. She kept her arm raised well above the lake, allowing the flashlight's beam to wash across the darkness. But she kept an eye on the water—just in case something jumped out and tried to grab the light. What she didn't need right now was utter darkness. The link flared to life, and Michael touched her thoughts. Warmth wrapped around her, a cocoon of comfort and strength. A girl could get used to this, she thought, and alarm stabbed through her heart. Because she was getting used to it, and it would only make his leaving all that much harder to bear. They plowed on through the icy water, but each step felt as if they were forcing their way through molasses.

Michael squeezed her hand gently. “Halfway there. Don't worry, we'll make it."

"You mean there is an end to this lake?” If there was, the flashlight couldn't pick it out.

"Yes. And the path's beginning to slope upwards again." They'd been following a path? She stepped on something slimy and slipped sideways, yelping in fright. The flashlight dipped under the water and darkness closed in, thick and heavy. Oh no... Michael yanked her upright, almost pulling her arm out of its socket.

"Great,” she muttered, hoping she didn't sound as scared as she felt. “Now I'm completely wet." Amusement and concern ran down the link. “Are you okay?"

She gave the flashlight a shake. Droplets of water sprayed across her face, lightly burning. The bright beam flickered then stayed on. “Now I am."

"Good. Don't slip again. You'll give me heart failure." She glanced up sharply. The seriousness behind his light remark shook her. It sounded like he cared—really cared. He'd told her vampires didn't have feelings—that they couldn't love. Was that a lie?

Every now and then he said or did something that made her think it was.

"Ready to move?"

She touched the fob watch. Its beat was shallow. “Let's go,” she said. Besides, moving was definitely better than standing. Moving made them harder targets. Shivering, she shined the light across the water. Tiny waves continued to roll away from them, fanning out across the darkness. In the distance water dipped steadily, but the lake seemed to swallow all other noise. But someone was out there, watching them. She licked her lips. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the urge to run. “Michael—"

"I know.” His voice was terse. “Just keep moving. There's nothing we can do here, anyway." The water level began to drop, inching down from their chests to their hips. But it still held the consistency of glue, making every step difficult.

Something pushed at her wet jeans. Biting her lip, she battled the desire to run. The soupy water made any sort of quickness impossible, anyway. She'd only fall ... and that was probably what Jasper had in mind.

But she wished she knew what was touching her ankle.

Again it trailed past, more solidly this time.

"He's playing games."

Though Michael's voice was calm, anger burned along the link. “Then you don't think we'll be attacked?"

"Not here. Not yet."

She wished she could share his certainty. The dark water receded further, and walking became easier. She swept the flashlight's beam across the darkness ahead, noting the tunnel was beginning to close in around them. The roof was only inches above their heads.

"Hope we don't have to crawl,” she muttered. The thought of getting down on her hands and knees to wade made her stomach churn.

"I can't imagine Jasper doing it, so I doubt we will."

"You really do know him well, don't you?"

"It pays to. As I've said, he's eluded our circle for years."

"And was your circle after him before or after he killed your brother?"

"Before."

But it became personal when Jasper killed Patrick. “Does the circle attempt to kill every vampire who has a thirst for human blood?"

He shrugged, a movement she caught in the edge of the light. “Not all. There are some who can restrain the urge to kill and live long lives."

Some, but not many, she deduced from his tone. She wondered how he'd managed it, how long it had taken him to curb the lust all too evident in Jasper.

"Jasper is a killer,” Michael continued grimly. “Always was. Even before the change, he feasted on the suffering of his victims."

And now he feasted on Jake. Her stomach turned. She swallowed and forced a little lightness into her voice. “And his sort gives the vampire world a bad rep, huh?" He squeezed her hand. “Something like that."

They continued on in silence. She swept the light across the layers of darkness. Nothing moved, yet something was out there, stirring the darkness ahead.