Dancing with the Devil (Nikki & Michael 1)

His breath brushed warmth across the back of her neck. She tensed, but made no move to turn around.

“Why did you do it?"

"It's easier than arguing."

An honest enough answer. And so very similar to the excuses Tommy had used. “Could you control me as easily?"

He moved past her, his arm brushing against hers. Heat trembled across her skin. She rubbed the spot were their flesh had touched and watched him warily. His face was still, expressionless, but she sensed the turmoil beneath the calm exterior.

"I do not know,” he said. “I hope I never have to try." Tommy had tried, and sometimes succeeded.

The clock on the Town Hall tower down the road bonged into the silence. She counted the tones. Midnight, the hour when all things dark and dangerous came out of hiding. Things like Michael, maybe. She met his gaze again, the uneven pounding of her heart abnormally loud in the growing silence.

"If you ever do try—"

"You would never know,” he said quietly. “As the waiter never knew." She clenched her fists in impotent fury. The ease with which he'd taken the waiters’ thoughts made it clear his abilities were very strong. Where Tommy had haunted her dreams, and Jasper relied on traps to snare her mind, Michael would merely walk in and take. She could so easily become a puppet to his will. He swore softly and grabbed her arm, shaking her lightly. “I would never do such a thing to you." Yet he wasn't averse to reading her mind. She wrenched free of his grip. “Unless you had no other choice."

She could see the truth of her statement reflected in his eyes.

"I have made a promise to keep you safe,” he said softly. “Though I am a man of my word, I will not stay where I am not wanted. Do you still wish me to accompany you home?" She opened her mouth to say no, then hesitated. Intuition whispered the warning not to let this man go. She needed the protection he offered, yet she couldn't ignore the darkness she sensed was so much a part of him.

Evil far worse waited somewhere in the night.

She shifted her stance and crossed her arms. “If you are a man of your word, will you make me a promise?"

"What do you wish?” His reply was as guarded as his expression.

"Will you vow never to try to take control of my mind or make me do anything against my will?" Something in his stillness spoke of sudden anger. “If you trust me so little,” he said, “then yes, I so vow." There was a sudden distancing between them, though neither of them had moved. It could only be for the best, she told herself firmly. They were still strangers. Until she knew more about him, more about the subtle yet terrifying shifts in his nature, she had to keep distance between them. It was just possible her hero was no true hero after all.

* * * *

Michael walked quietly beside Nikki, all too aware of the tension and confusion churning her thoughts. He felt the same damn way.

Perhaps something within her recognized the darkness in him. Maybe that was why she now wore the small silver cross at her neck. Why she refused to trust him.

But why was her trust suddenly so important? He was here only to find Jasper, nothing more. She was his best, and quickest, means of doing so. Trust surely played no part in any of it. The shadows moved on the other side of the street. Michael glanced across. Only a young couple, strolling hand in hand on their way home. He looked away, studying the street ahead, unsettled by a sudden surge of envy. Just for an instant, he had shared such intimacy, and it had felt good after so many years of loneliness.>Nikki scrambled out of her way and reached for another kinetic lance. But the girl stopped, eyes suddenly distant. It was almost as if she was listening to someone. Jasper, Nikki thought with a shiver. A hint of petulance ran across Monica's face. It was an odd reminder that this was still a sixteen-year-old girl, whatever else she might have become. With another snarl of rage, Monica turned and threw herself at Jake. They went down in a heavy tangle of arms and legs.

Nikki hit the teenager with another kinetic lance, forcing her down the stairs, away from Jake. Monica snarled, then winked out of existence.

Alarm ran through Nikki. She spun, leaping for the stake she'd dropped near the wall. She hit the carpet and rolled, gathering the stake and slashing upwards in one fluid movement. Her blow met with emerging flesh.

The wood speared Monica's abdomen. Her face twisted in agony, and she melted again from sight. The bloody stake fell free to the floor. Nikki grabbed it, then turned and ran to Jake.

"I'm all right,” he muttered. “She slashed my arm open, that's all. Let's get the hell out of here." She grabbed his good arm and helped him up. The air around them burned with fury. Monica was still nearby, watching their retreat.

But she didn't attack. It was an ominous sign that Jasper had something else in mind for them.

Chapter Seven

Nikki leaned against the front of Jake's car, lightly massaging her temples. Her headache was back with a vengeance, thanks to the long hours of questioning. And still the police didn't believe her. It was evident from the look in their eyes, the tone in their voices. They just couldn't accept a sixteen-year-old girl would be capable of such destruction.

And she hadn't even hit them with the vampire theory yet.

She eased her weight from one leg to the other and studied the brightly-lit mansion. Though Monica couldn't be seen, her pain and fury lingered. She was somewhere nearby, watching and waiting. For what, Nikki wasn't sure.

Trevgard himself could not be missed. He strode from room to room like a general marshaling his troops, taking his anger out on anyone who got in his way. Both she and Jake had withstood a good ten minutes of his tirade before the police had decided to rescue them with official questions. Her headache had probably started around that time.

A wiry figure appeared in the doorway, looking around for several seconds before moving briskly in her direction. Nikki groaned. Just what she needed—another round of questioning with Detective Col MacEwan. They'd known each other a long time—he'd arrested her several times during her early years on the streets. He was the strongest denouncer of her psychic talents, and yet, oddly enough, probably the closest thing she had to a friend on the force.