Dancing with the Devil (Nikki & Michael 1)

So beautiful.

So very deadly.

Nikki swallowed and tore her gaze away. Her fingers touched the doorknob, clenched convulsively around it.

"No,” he whispered. “Stay with me."

His words wrapped around her, seductive and compelling. Blue fire pinned her. She couldn't tear herself free of the commanding beauty of his gaze.

"Be mine."

Memories rose unbidden, and Nikki saw another time, another man, uttering the same words.

"No,” she said and flung out her arm, releasing the pent-up kinetic energy. The sapphire gaze disappeared, then something heavy hit the far wall.

Anger hissed across the darkness. Nikki slammed the door open and ran for the hall. Smoke swirled through the darkness, a stench that caught in her throat, making her cough. Christ, there's a fire somewhere . But she couldn't stop. Not with evil so close to her heels. She reached the door leading out into the hall and flung it open.

Only to be greeted by hell. Wallpaper dripped fiery tears to the floor, and the stairs were lost to an inferno of red heat. Smoke curled around her, stinging her eyes and making it difficult to breathe. She coughed, and dashed the tears away from her eyes. What was she going to do now?

Wood creaked behind her.

Run, she thought, and leaped into the hall, slamming the door shut behind her. The heat was fierce, scorching her clothes and searing her skin. Heart pounding with fear, Nikki spun, not sure where to go. The smoke did a mad dance around her, making it difficult to get her bearings. If she couldn't use the stairs, she'd have to run down the hall ... but which way was safest?

"This way,” a voice said behind her.

Nikki jumped then turned. A figure emerged from the swirling darkness. Something deep within quivered in recognition. This was Michael Kelly, the man she'd sensed earlier. "Trust me,” he said and held out his hand.

She hesitated, despite the danger of doing so. The dancing brightness of the flames revealed the finely chiseled planes of his cheeks, and a nose that hinted of exotic blood. It was a handsome face. A haunted face. One she could trust—at least for now.

She placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, wrapping them in a heat that was fiercer than any flame.

He led her quickly through the fire and into another room. She kicked the door shut, then saw the only exit was the large window to her left. They'd have to jump.

Shit. Nikki thrust kinetically at the window. The glass burst outwards, glittering like a thousand bright stars as it fell earthward.

Wind rushed into the void, slapping her face like a bucket of cold water. She blinked, and looked at the ground far below. It was a long, long way down...

As if sensing her sudden reluctance, Michael grabbed her, swinging her into his arms.

"No!” she screamed, then shut her eyes as he ran toward the window. He leaped out into the night. The wind whipped around them, and, just for an instant, it felt as if they were flying. The illusion shattered when they hit the ground. The impact wrenched her from Michael's hold and pitched her roughly forward. She rolled down a slight incline and through several plants before coming to an abrupt halt against a fence, rear half buried in the garden bed and legs pointing skyward. For several seconds she just lay there, too stunned to move, just thankful to be alive. She'd bitten her tongue sometime during the fall and could taste blood in her mouth, but other than that, everything seemed in working order.

At least she was free from the house, and the immediate threat of evil. But the man with the hypnotic sapphire eyes was still near—she could feel his presence, hunting her. She'd better get away from this area—fast.

She slowly lowered her legs from the fence. Pain shot along her back, and she groaned softly. No doubt she'd have a colorful array of bruises to parade tomorrow.

"Take my hand."

Every nerve in her aching body jumped. Her heart in her mouth, she glanced up. Michael's form flowed out of the night and found substance. Just like a ghost, Nikki thought with a shiver. Her gaze swept from the blackness of his clothing to his face. Instinct might be telling her to trust this man, but there was something in his eyes that made her wary.>Moonlight fanned across the darkness, lifting the shadows and touching the face of the second creature as it lumbered back into the room. For an instant, it almost looked pretty. Nikki backed away. What on earth were these things?

It snarled, and any illusion of prettiness shattered. The creature took one ponderous step forward, then stopped. Nikki readied another kinetic lance. The glimmer of pain in her head became an ache. She was going to have a hell of a headache tomorrow—if she survived tonight. Blood ran past her clenched fingers and dripped to the floor near her feet. She had no choice but to ignore it. One move, no matter how small, and the creature would attack. Why wasn't it attacking now? It simply stood in the doorway, shaking its head and snarling softly. It was almost as if the creature was fighting a leash of some kind.

She had absolutely no desire to find out just who, or what, held the end of that invisible leash. The creature snarled again, an angry, sullen sound. Then turned and leaped out the nearest window. The retreat sent a chill up her spine. She waited tensely for something else to happen. The breeze stirred the dust from the corner shadows, and the heavy silence returned. After several heartbeats, she sank down against the wall and drew her knees close. For a minute she simply sat there, breathing deeply and letting the silence run over her. Why had the creature retreated? The desire, maybe even the need, to shed blood had been all too evident in its eyes. But it had left.

Because it had been ordered to.

Moonlight played across the glass that lay scattered all around her. Glass that was stained with bright splashes of red. She wasn't sure if the blood belonged to the creatures or to her, and knew in the end it wouldn't really matter. He would come for the blood. He would smell it and come for her. Who he was, she didn't really know. Or care. She had to get out of this crazy house, had to escape, while she still could...

The thought stalled. What about Monica? Did she really want to leave the teenager to face fate alone?