Dancing with the Devil(131)

She was in her own room. Nikki blinked, confused. How did she get here?

 

Michael, obviously. Somehow he'd passed the barrier threshold of her home. Somehow, he'd forced her to live.

 

She bit her lip and looked around the room. Nothing had changed. But she was alone and had been for some time. Michael was nowhere near—he was several miles away, gaining nourishment from a herd of dairy cows.

 

She blinked. How could she possibly know that without reaching for the link? What has he done to me?

 

She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, trying to recall the last moments in the mine. She remembered the golden light and its comforting warmth—remembered Michael's desperate plea. Then something had yanked her back into darkness.

 

Michael. Breaking his vow.

 

He'd saved her life, but at what cost? Was she even human anymore?

 

She threw the covers aside and scrambled out of bed, running across to the window. The sun peeped brightly around the edges of the curtains, and she flung them open, allowing the late afternoon sunshine to wash over her. Better a death like Monica's than life as a vampire. Nothing happened.

 

The sunlight caressed her skin, warming but not burning. She leaned her forehead against the windowpane and closed her eyes. So she wasn't a vampire. At least Michael had heeded her wishes in that regard. But how had he saved her? Why did she feel no pain, no aches, after being trapped in the water under rocks and debris? How had he saved her, and at what cost to them both?

 

Her senses danced with the knowledge of change, yet blurred into confusion when she tried to understand how. And though she needed answers, she didn't want to reach for the link and Michael. A line had been crossed. Nothing would ever be the same—not with her life, and not with Michael. She opened her eyes, and stared at the traffic running past her window. One thing hadn't changed, at least. He had to leave. 

 

Jasper was still loose. And despite what Michael might say, Jasper's grip on her was growing stronger. His darkness stained the far corners of her mind, and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. She turned and made her way into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, she was shocked to see it brimming with fresh food.

 

Make use of it.

 

Michael's comment came through like an order. A compulsion to obey leapt through her. She gripped the edge of the refrigerator, fighting it. Taking a deep breath, she slammed the door closed and leaned back against the bench.

 

He only had to make an order, and she wanted to leap up and obey. Why? What had happened in the dark hours lost to her memory? Had Michael succeeded where Jasper had failed?

 

A sigh of frustration ran through her mind. She tried to shut him out, needing to be alone, needing time to simply think.