Hearts in Darkness (Nikki & Michael 2)

He broke it with a gasp and looked around. “Nikki?” There was no response, and the water around him was still, silent. Fear clubbed him. She couldn't swim. Nikki!

He thrust the link wide open but was met with silence. He took a deep breath and dove under the water, kicking deep into the murky depths. She'd been close to him when they'd fallen. Surely she couldn't be too far away.

Hair floated against his fingers. An instant later he touched her neck, her shoulders. She wasn't moving. He couldn't tell if she was holding her breath or simply not breathing. She can't die, he reminded himself fiercely. Not like this, anyway . But repeating those words over and over didn't help the sick sensation churning his gut.

He grabbed her shirt, then kicked back to the surface, pulling her with him. Holding her head above the water, he looked around quickly, seeing nothing but darkness. He blinked and switched to the infrared benefits of his vampire vision. Walls became visible, then a rocky shelf, and beyond that, a path that disappeared into the darkness. He glanced at Nikki, saw the rich glow of blood welling from a wound on the side of her head.

Fear slammed past any reaction his vampire instincts might have made. He swam quickly toward the ledge, thrusting her onto her it before climbing up beside her.

"Nikki?” Still no response. He pulled her onto her side, then opened her mouth and checked for obstructions. She wasn't breathing.

She couldn't die. He knew that. But seeing her like this, so pale and unresponsive, terrified him. What if he was wrong? What if his life force wasn't enough to keep her alive through most injuries?

Cursing fate and his own lack of knowledge, he began resuscitation. Fear was a knife digging deep into his heart. He didn't want to lose her—not now, not like this. Not ever. For several long minutes nothing happened. He continued resuscitation and hung on to hope. Then she shuddered and coughed, and water spewed from her mouth. Relief surged through him so strongly it left him trembling. He thrust her onto her side, holding her while she vomited the rest of the water from her stomach.

"Oh God,” she murmured. “Did you get the number of that truck?" Her voice was weak and shaky, but never had he heard a sweeter sound. He smiled and pushed the wet strands of hair from her eyes. “Do you remember what happened?"

"After the truck? Not a thing.” She hesitated. “I'm wet. So are you."

"We fell into water.” She sounded stronger, but her skin was cold, and she was still shaking. It might have been shock or the cold or a combination of both. Either way, they had to get back to their room before she caught a chill. “Are you able to get up?"

"To echo the grouchy words of someone else, of course I can. I'm just wet, not an invalid." Oh yeah, she was definitely feeling better. Smiling slightly, he rose and helped her to her feet.

"Where are we?” She clutched his arm, hanging on tight, as if afraid she was going to fall. Maybe she wasn't feeling as well as she was making out. He opened the link again, felt the knot of pain and weakness in her thoughts. He glanced at her head and saw the glimmer of blood. But the tide had slowed to a trickle, and she wasn't in any danger of bleeding to death.

"I don't know where we are. Are you able to walk?"

"Yes.” She teetered forward a few steps. “What exactly happened?" He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close as they walked, trying to keep her warm. “You don't remember?"

She shook her head, frowning slightly. “I remember falling and cracking my head on something, then nothing."

"You must have hit your head when we fell. We'll head back to the room and—"

"No,” she said, stopping abruptly. “We've got to get Matthew out of here."

"Nikki,” he said, as patiently as he could. “You're wet, and shaking and—"

"I said no, and I meant it.” She glared up him, fists clenched and eyes sparkling with anger. She'd never looked more beautiful. “We may not get another chance at this." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. What she said made perfectly good sense, but he just wasn't willing to risk her life again.

"It's my life to risk, Michael."

She was back to reading his thoughts. As he'd feared, the barriers he'd raised to stop her were beginning to fade.

She touched his cheek, her fingers cool against his skin. Her thoughts spun around him, through him, tender and persuasive. “A chill is not going to kill me,” she said softly. “But any delay might mean the difference between life and death for Matthew."

She cared more for her client's safety than she did her own. Always had. And no matter what he said or did, she wasn't going to be swayed. “Stubborn wench,” he muttered and pulled her close, kissing her cold lips.

A shiver ran through her, but he knew it had nothing to do with being cold. He could feel her need as heavily as he did his own. It was an ache growing steadily stronger by the hour. But if he gave in to desire and made love to her as he so desperately wanted to do, he knew he wouldn't have the strength to leave her again. And he had to leave. He couldn't face seeing her cold and lifeless again. Twice was more than enough for his heart to take.

He stepped away, though it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do right now. “Let's go find a way back up to Matthew, then."

A knowing smile touched her lips. “You won't win this battle, you know. Fate is on my side." His shrug was noncommittal. He had to at least go down fighting. He held out his hand, and she slipped her fingers into his. Once more he led the way through the caverns, his pace slow at first, then gradually speeding up as she recovered and regained her strength.

They wound their way through the darkness, heading steadily upwards. The air was damp and stale, and it felt as if it hadn't been breathed for many years. Cordell and his cohorts obviously didn't come down here much. If they had, the air would have caught their scents and left them lingering. The path flattened out. In the distance, like a far-off drum, he could hear the beat of a single heart, guiding him on even as it called to the darkness in him—a darkness he was increasingly able to ignore. We're getting close to Matthew's cell again.

Her thoughts were touched by fear. He scanned the night, wondering what she felt. He could find nothing, taste nothing in the stillness of the night. Only Matthew. What can you sense?

Something is watching us again. I can feel its presence.