Dancing with the Devil (Nikki & Michael 1)

She grabbed a knife from the rack, then hesitated. He wouldn't thank her for doing this. She had a feeling his control over his bloodlust had been a battle not easily won. But her only other choice was to watch him die.

She walked back to his side.

"Forgive me if I'm doing the wrong thing, Michael, but I love you. I can't sit here and watch you die." Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead. Then she took a deep breath and sliced her wrist. She forced open his mouth and let the blood drip down his throat. He swallowed convulsively for several seconds, then jerked spasmodically. Lunging forward, he grabbed her arm, holding her still, his grip bruising as he sucked quickly, greedily, at the wound.

He wasn't awake, wasn't even aware of what he was doing. He could drain her without knowing, and she knew it wouldn't matter. As long as he lived, as long as he broke the curse of her love, she didn't care.

Through a growing haze of pain, she formed a thin lance of psychic energy. Touching his forehead lightly, she closed her eyes and thrust deep into the darkness holding his mind captive. She plunged down, deep down into his consciousness, deep down into the shadowed areas he'd kept well hidden when their minds had last merged.

Don't leave me! she screamed through the darkness of his mind. Something burned in answer. A single heartbeat, weak and uncertain. Elation trembled through her. It was working. Breathing harshly, she dove deeper.

“I need you! I love you! Don't leave me!"

Another beat ran through the dark silence, stronger this time. A dark haze ran across her vision. An odd sort of lethargy was beginning to creep through her body, sucking the strength from her limbs. She ignored it.

Live, damn you, live! she mentally screamed, pouring the last of her energy, the last of her strength into him.

Then the darkness claimed her, and she knew no more.

Chapter Twenty

Michael leaned a shoulder against the wall and watched the dawn rise through the lace-shielded windows. From behind him came a steady beeping—Nikki's heartbeat, recorded by the intensive care instruments that still surrounded her, strong at last.

Not that he needed the instruments to hear her heart. The demon within him had finally woken from its long slumber and was hungry to taste her again.

He shuddered and clenched his fists against the need beating through his soul. Three days had passed since he'd awakened and found her lying still and pale by his side, her life still hot on his lips. He'd come so very close to killing her.

He'd never thought to warn her against offering her blood. It was the one thing he'd never expected her to try. She might share his life force and be impervious to most wounds, but he could still kill her. He was her maker.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. His need to taste her again was growing. He had to get out of this hospital, had to go somewhere far away from any sort of human habitation until he could bring his demon under control. Until he could, he was a bigger risk to Nikki than Jasper had ever been. The door to his left opened, and Jake entered. Though he still wore the thick white bandage around his neck, his movements were stronger.

"How is she?” he asked, walking across to her bed.

"Alive.” Like a siren song, the pounding rush of blood through Jake's veins called to the darkness in him. His canines lengthened in anticipation. Michael swallowed and looked out the window.

"I was just talking to the doctors. They said she'd lost almost eighty percent of her blood. They have no idea how she managed to stay alive."

She was lucky she'd only lost eighty percent. Lucky he'd awakened in time to stop his demon.

"Don't suppose you'd like to explain how it happened? I mean, you don't take human blood, do you?" He didn't have to turn to see Jake's bitterness and sudden mistrust. It was all too obvious in his thoughts.

“I was unconscious, probably dying. She cut her wrist and offered it to me. She gave me life."

"And you almost killed her in the process!"

Michael closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said softly.

"What about that bastard, Jasper? He still around?"

"No. We killed him."

"Good,” Jake muttered. “At least some good has come from this mess." Maybe it had. Jasper was dead. He had his revenge. But at what cost?

He walked over to the bed and gently brushed the dark strands of hair away from her eyes. Her face was still pale, despite the strong beat of her heart. But her thoughts were finally stirring. She would awaken soon. He had to be gone before then.

He met Jake's gaze. “Take care of her for me, will you?"

Jake raised an eyebrow. “After all she's been through for you, you're not sticking around until she wakes?"