The weariness in his voice tore at her heart. She turned around, but even such a small movement caused pain to run down her legs. She bit her lip, fighting the sudden sting of tears.
"Gently, Nikki. Your hip and left leg were badly grazed by the car." He sat in a chair next to the bed, bare feet propped on the mattress. He looked casual, yet there was nothing remotely casual in the way he studied her. In the dark depths of his eyes, she could see all her secrets, all her fears. All that had happened.
She swallowed uneasily, and looked away. “I guess I'm lucky it's only grazed. How did you find me?"
"Followed your thoughts."
If her thoughts were so open to him, why didn't he tell her if Jasper's mind-bending techniques had succeeded or not? “How long was I gone?"
"Three nights."
It had seemed an eternity longer. She shivered and rubbed her wrist. Though the two puncture wounds in her skin had healed, her flesh still burned. “Where are we?"
"My hotel room. It's safer than the hospital, where Jasper could come and go as he pleased." Plus Jasper didn't know where Michael was—but would it really matter now? He could touch her thoughts any time he desired and find out where they were. There wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop him.
"How are you feeling this morning?” Michael's voice was calm as he shifted his feet and rose, but something in the way he moved spoke of violence.
She watched him pour water into a glass. His midnight colored hair was unkempt and in need of a wash, his face etched by deep lines of tiredness. His clothes were disheveled and creased, as if he hadn't slept in days.
She wanted to reach out and caress the tautness from his shoulders, kiss the tension from his lips. Instead, she clenched her fists against the blanket. Was she insane? She wanted to touch a vampire in ways she'd never wanted to touch a man before...
"Michael, why didn't you tell me?” she whispered, ignoring the glass of water he held out to her. The muscles along his arms went taut, momentarily straining against the restriction of his rolled-up sleeves. Then he slowly lowered the glass back to the bedside table.
"I'm sorry, Nikki—” He hesitated and shrugged, momentarily avoiding her gaze. “I never meant for you to find out this way."
"Did you ever plan to tell me?"
Again he hesitated fractionally. “I don't know."