Dancing With The Dead

Chapter Eleven

"Nikki, wake up."

The soft words speared the madness. She shuddered and fought the dark layers clinging to her mind, desperate to reach the safety of Michael's voice.

"Nikki, let it go. Break the connection."

Warm hands touched her face, caressed her cheek. The demons of madness laughed rabidly, but retreated.

"Nikki?"

She opened her eyes, studying Michael for a heartbeat. He sat on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes full of compassion and a certain amount of wariness.

"Hold me," she whispered, pushing the blankets aside and struggling upright. "Please, just hold me."

He drew her into his arms. She leaned a cheek against the bare warmth of his chest, allowing the heat of his touch to chase the chill away. Allowed the tender caress of his thoughts to chase the last strands of darkness from her mind.

"You have to fight him, Nikki."

"How?" Her voice cracked slightly, and she bit her lip. But how could she fight Jasper when she'd never been able to fight Tommy? Jasper's evil was far more intense than Tommy's ever had been.

But she'd survived Tommy, and she'd survived three nights of Jasper's insanity. She'd survive this—any way she could.

Michael held her silently, the rock to which she clung in the ever-turbulent currents of her life. Gradually, almost unwillingly, she became aware of his scent, musky yet fresh; aware of the slight tension in the arms that held her so gently. She could hear his heart pounding as erratically as her own. She lifted her head and met his gaze. His smile made her heart do an odd little somersault.

He gently touched her cheek, then ran his fingers down to her lips. " Notmaking love to you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

Her pulse leapt beneath his touch. She kissed his fingers, then reached up and traced the firm line of his jaw. "I don't want your restraint, Michael. I want you."

Just touch me. Hold me. Love me.She bit her lip and looked away from the understanding in his eyes.

What she was doing wasn't fair, but there wasn't any other way to drive Jasper from her thoughts. Was it too much to ask for just an hour, maybe two, of Jasper's darkness not staining her thoughts?

He sighed and closed his eyes. Fighting the needs of his body, she thought. It was a battle she didn't want him to win.

Leaning forward, she captured his lips with her own. He groaned and tightened his arms around her, his lips suddenly harsh against hers.

Then he pulled away. "Don't do this, Nikki." His voice was ragged, dark eyes troubled.

"Why not?" What was wrong with wanting to kiss him, make love to him, until the darkness ran away and there was nothing but the two of them alone?

Couldn't he see she needed this, needed to keep the darkness and insanity at bay?

"Nikki, it's wrong."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why is it wrong?"

He didn't answer. She moved closer and trailed tiny kisses around his neck, then gently bit his earlobe.

He made no move to stop her, no move to encourage her, yet she could feel the tension under her fingers and wondered what he was so afraid of. Vampires might not be able to love, but they could make love, and that was all she was asking of him.

She ran her hand down the warm length of his body until she touched the waistband of his pants. Fingers trembling, she slowly undid his fly.

"Nikki—" he hesitated, his body tensing when she touched him. "The timing is wrong."

She closed her eyes and briefly rested her forehead against his shoulder. He was right. This was neither the time nor the place for them to make love. But what other choice did she have? She had to stop the stain of Jasper's darkness growing stronger in her mind.

"Please, Michael. Just love me."

He groaned again and crushed her to him. She kissed him fiercely, savoring the taste of his lips, his mouth. He caressed her breast, her stomach, her buttocks, his hands gentle yet his touch urgent, setting her aflame with need. She reveled in the play of muscles across his shoulders, the feel of his skin, so smooth and warm against hers.

"Lay down with me," she said softly.

Michael smiled and stretched out beside her. He ran a hand down the gentle curve of her side, watching the desire darken her amber eyes. Yet he could feel the desperation in her thoughts, the urgent need to deny Jasper's growing control over her. He touched her cheek, following the outline of her jaw down to her mouth. Her skin was soft and smelled so good, like honey and cinnamon. She captured his finger in her mouth and sucked on it gently. Heat ran through him, through the link, a smoldering fire threatening to explode.

God, there was no denying his desire for her.

"I cannot offer you anything more than this moment, Nikki." Not the words he should have said, by any stretch of the imagination. He might have been a three-hundred-year-old vampire, but in some ways, he was still very human. Something he could not deny with her so close.

Her dark amber gaze met his, and he knew that she wanted nothing more than this moment, that all she cared about was time without Jasper's intrusion in her thoughts.

It hurt somehow, though God knew it shouldn't have. She was only using him in the same manner he'd used a score of other woman during his life.

At least he would have the memory of loving her in the long nights of loneliness left ahead.

"Good." Though her voice was light, there was an edge that made him wonder if she'd heard his thoughts. "If you had stopped right now, I would've killed you."

He touched her lips, then ran his finger lightly down her neck to her breast. "The only thing likely to stop me now is a change of heart from you."

"Then stop talking," she murmured.

Power shivered between them, a gossamer touch that tugged his jeans slowly from his body. He laughed against her lips, then pulled away slightly. Using his own kinetic abilities, he eased the shirt up and over her head, then tossed it across the room.

"Now I know what the romance books mean when they say he undressed her with his mind."

Though her smile was easy, fear flickered deep in her eyes. He kissed her, savoring the sweetness of her lips as he drew her close. Their minds entwined in a gentle dance of fire, sharing each sensation, each emotion.

The chains of the link between them were drawing tighter, but right then, he didn't care. He had this moment, and he had Nikki in his arms. That was a damn sight more than he'd had in a very long time.

"I need you," he whispered and held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair as he battled the urgency pounding through his body, his heart.

"Then take me," she murmured, her lips trailing fire where they touched.

The gentle dance of their minds grew heated, wildfire ready to explode.

God, she felt so good, so right. How in the hell was he going to walk away from the emotions underlying the heat of all this? How could he deny the harmony of their minds? How could either of them?

Nikki ran a hand through the dark silk of his hair. "Hush, Michael. Just love me. Let tomorrow worry about itself."

Give me one night without fear, one night to remember when Jasper is gone, and you walk away.

Pain flickered through her heart, but she ignored it. She had no time, no wish, to do anything more than respond to the heat of his touch, the warmth of his thoughts. Lord, it felt as if she had known him all his life, had been responding to him for the three hundred years he had mentioned—as though his touch and his kiss and his warmth were as vital as air. As vital as the blood that thundered through his heart and hers.

Maybe they were. But that was something she'd worry about tomorrow. She had this moment and time without Jasper in her mind. She had to make the most of it.

Michael gently caressed Nikki's thigh. Lord, it felt so good, lying here beside her in the warm aftermath of their lovemaking. Her thoughts were as quiet as the gentle rhythm of her heart. In a few minutes she'd be asleep. But as much as he wanted Nikki to rest, he couldn't let her, not just yet.

"Nikki, we need to talk," he said softly.

She stirred and murmured something he couldn't quite catch. He reached out, brushing silken strands of hair away from her face. "Nikki?"

Her eyes opened, and a smile twitched the corners of her mouth. Only the sudden wisp of wariness in her thoughts made him resist the impulse to kiss her.

"I gather vampires are immune to the make-love-then-collapse syndrome that seems to affect so many men."

He smiled. "No, they're not." He would have liked nothing more than to fall to sleep with her in his arms.

But Jasper was out there. "We have to talk."

"What about?" A flicker of guilt ran through her thoughts, and he wondered if she were already regretting their lovemaking.

"About Tommy."

It was not what she'd expected, and her thoughts were suddenly chaotic. "Why?"

"Jasper's using your fear against you, Nikki. He's using past demons to grind down your resistance."

She tensed. "What do you mean?"

She knew what he meant. He could see the images in her mind, skittering like scared rabbits. "I mean it's time you faced the past, time for you to let go of the guilt."

She was silent for a long moment. Michael held her quietly, listening to the beat of her heart, a rhythm filled with fear.

"Tommy has nothing to do with any of this," she muttered finally. Heat crept through her cheeks as she looked away. "You've no right to know, no right to ask."

And no right to care. It was a thought that tasted bitter. But one way or another, she had to face the guilt centered around that part of her past, or she would have very little hope of resisting Jasper's final call. In many ways, Jasper represented the darker side of human existence, and guilt was part of that darkness.

It drew her into Jasper's sphere of influence, made it all that much easier for him to attack her.

"Jasper wouldn't use Tommy's memory if he didn't think it would help break your spirit, Nikki. It's time you told someone what happened."

Her face was as pale as the tangled sheets beneath them. "If I tell you, will you promise never to bring the subject up again?"

"Yes." It was an easy thing to promise, given he had no intention of staying around. He might have the desire to stay, but desire was something he rarely gave in to.

She stared at her feet. "I met Tommy several months after my parents' death. I was pretty messed up at the time, and on the run. The authorities wanted to place me with my grandparents, who I'd never met."

She hesitated, and shrugged. "Tommy led the street gang I started running with."

No wonder she'd empathized with Monica. She'd been in much the same situation as the teenager—young and confused, with no one listening to what she wanted. An easy target for evil. Though why she thought Tommy was in the same league as Jasper, he couldn't say. Maybe it was merely a reaction to her memories, her fear.

"How did you meet him?"

She licked her lips. "I was in a store his gang was robbing. One of the kids was bashing the old guy at the register, and I stopped him."

"Kinetically?"

She nodded. "It was the first time it happened. Up until then, I hadn't really done much more than have the occasional dream."

Images of her parents' death flickered through her mind, images not faded by time or acceptance. She must have dreamed of their deaths. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen."

Fourteen years old and no doubt going through puberty. Most talents didn't fully appear before then.

Add on top of that the fact she'd seen her parents die, once in her dreams and once in reality, and it was no wonder she'd been pretty messed up.

And in many respects, still was.

He might not be able to stay here with her and share his dreams or his heart, but he could give her peace. If he could keep her talking. "What happened?"

"Tommy happened. He'd swung around and our gazes met—" She hesitated, then shrugged. "I know it sounds corny, but at the time, it felt like I'd just met my destiny. He was gifted, like me, and seemed to know I needed help."

More than likely he'd seen the potential of her abilities and had known the power that one day would be hers. And had wanted it, as Jasper wanted it. Michael clenched his fist. Nikki glanced at him, and he forced himself to relax. "So you joined his gang?"

She nodded. "He was good to me, at least at first. He taught me how to survive the streets, taught me how to control and use my gifts."

Pain swirled around him, a gossamer veil he could almost touch. "When did it all change?" Though he could see the answer in her thoughts clearly enough, he wanted her to talk about it. Maybe then she would see that Tommy wasn't the savior she thought him to be. The bastard had done little more than take advantage of a frightened young girl.

"When I turned fifteen." She shuddered, and he had to resist the urge to hold her close and caress all the hurt away. "Everything changed. He became possessive, never letting me out of his sight. Sometimes it felt as if he was in my mind, governing my thoughts, my actions."

If Tommy's telepathy had been as strong as she seemed to think, then that was probably just what he'd been doing. Fifteen years old and barely in control of her gifts, she would have had little resistance when it came to subtle mind merging. He clenched his fingers again, then slowly straightened them out. Tommy was dead, and there was nothing he could do about the past—other than help her through the pain of it.

"When did this extend to trying to control your gifts?"

Her gaze jerked to his. "How did you know?"

He grimaced. "It wasn't hard to guess, given your reaction to our link."

Her gaze skittered away, but her thoughts were clear enough. She still wasn't comfortable with the link, still wasn't comfortable with him. Maybe she'd never be. Attraction or not, it was only the thought of Jasper invading her mind that kept her on the bed with him, kept her talking.

At least he had something to thank Jasper for.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

Fear shimmered through the link. "Tommy gave me a ring for my next birthday. He told me he loved me." She hesitated and swallowed. "What did I know of love? He was my world, all that I had left since my parents' death. But maybe he could see the doubts, because he asked me to prove what I felt for him."

"How?" The question came out more abruptly than he'd intended, and she looked up quickly. He forced a smile, though it was the last thing he felt like doing. "What did he ask you to do?"

"Merge minds. Even though I sometimes feared him, and what he could do, I saw no harm in it. It was something we'd been practicing for a while." She shuddered. "Only this time it was deeper. This time it was complete."

He could see the chaotic results in her mind. Her gifts, controlled by Tommy, had been used in violence.

No wonder she now feared any sort of mind-link.

"What did you do?"

"What could I do?" Her question was almost a plea. For an instant she was very much a confused and frightened teenager, not a twenty-five-year-old woman. "I was sixteen years old and had no one I could turn to for help. Not that Tommy would have let me run. He knew my thoughts, and he could stop me, make me do things…" She paused, and a tear ran down her cheek.

The first crack in the wall, Michael thought, resisting the urge to wipe the drop away. It wasn't over yet.

She had to face up to the destruction she'd unwillingly caused.

"What sort of things?"

She wouldn't look at him. He placed a finger under her chin and gently tilted her face upwards. "What did you do, Nikki?" he said, closing his heart to the pain in her eyes and her thoughts.

"Tommy pulled a bank robbery, but it went wrong." She jerked away from his touch and dashed the tears from her eyes. "I'd refused to take part, and for some reason, Tommy hadn't been able to make me. Instead, I waited a block away with a getaway car. But the police had received a tip and were waiting."

Which didn't explain the pain he could almost taste. "What happened, Nikki?"

"Tommy escaped, and the police and security guards chased him. He came straight back to me. He used my gifts to… to…"

She hesitated again, and more tears glimmered on her cheeks. He made no move, though he ached to hold her.

She took a deep breath. "He used my kinetic abilities to destroy several police cars. One of the security guards he threw through a store window. The falling glass cut the guard's throat. Another was thrown into a wall and now lives in a wheelchair. I couldn't stop him, Michael. I fought so hard, but I just couldn't stop him."

That was why she'd made him vow never to make her do anything against her will. A sob escaped her control, and he drew her into his arms and let her cry. At least she was finally letting go of the pain she'd held in check for so long. But it wasn't over yet. "How did you escape the police?"

She laughed, a bitter, brittle sound that made him wince. "I didn't. Tommy escaped. They told me later that I'd been lucky he hadn't grabbed me as a hostage. They never knew it was me who killed that guard…"

"If one man uses a gun to kill another, you blame the man who pulled the trigger, not the weapon, Nikki." And that's all she'd been, a weapon. She sniffed, but wasn't ready to let go of the past just yet.

"How did he die?"

"The streets caught up with him. His violence had made him a lot of enemies, and in the end, it came back to him."

Then why did she feel so guilty about his death?

She shifted in his arms, resting her cheek against his shoulder. The warmth of her skin burned into him.

He fleetingly wished they could just stay here, on this bed, and forget about everything but each other.

"Because I dreamed it was going to happen," she whispered. "And I didn't tell him."

She was reading his thoughts as clearly as he was reading hers. Link or not, she shouldn't have been able to. "Why not?" he asked, knowing that in the same situation, he would have wished the fiend to hell and laughed as he died.

But Nikki didn't have three hundred years of weariness behind her.

" Oh God…" She hesitated, and her hand clenched against his. "I told him that I hated him. I told him he could burn in hell for all I cared. Ten hours later he was dead. I felt his soul leave his body, Michael. I felt it encased in the fires of Hell. I could have stopped it, but I didn't. Just as I didn't stop my parents" death.

They all died because of me."

If she'd seen her parents' death, why hadn't she warned them? Surely not out of hate—she had loved them, that much was clear. "His soul was cursed long before you came along, Nikki. You did nothing more than trust the wrong man."

"But he was good to me. He cared for me."

He was pretty sure the only person Tommy had cared about was himself. But she wasn't ready yet to face that. "He only wanted to make you trust him, make you need him. Where Jasper has tried force and drugs to subvert your will, Tommy used your emotions."

"But I loved him."

Yet even as she whispered the words, there was doubt in her thoughts. For the first time in years, she was looking past her fear and truly seeing the man Tommy had been.

"But he didn't die because of that love, Nikki." He hesitated, the added, "He was a vicious thug who got what he deserved."

"Maybe. But there's still my parents."

Three hours ago she wouldn't have confided this much. And yet he sensed it wasn't so much trust as the need to finally purge her demons. Perhaps she saw the necessity as much as he. "Want to tell me about it?"

"No." She took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath. "They were going away without me, taking a second honeymoon and leaving me in the care of a nanny. I was so furious with them. When I had the dream, I didn't tell them."

"You were a kid, Nikki. All kids do horrible things at one time or another."

"Not all kids watch their parents die. Not all kids feel the caress of their mother's soul as she passes away."

Which was surely punishment enough for her childish rush of spitefulness. "Would your parents have believed you even if you had told them? Would it have stopped them from going?"

She smiled slightly. "No. They would have seen it as a variation on the tantrums I'd been throwing."

"Then you could not have changed what was fated to happen."

"Maybe. Maybe not." There was an odd mix of uncertainty and hope in her eyes.

He smiled and pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. For now, that mix was enough. At least she'd seen beyond her guilt and released some of her pent-up pain.

The deaths in her past would no longer be a weapon for Jasper to use. It might not be much, but it was a start.

She gently touched the silver cross resting against his chest. "Where did you find it?"

"In the tunnel." Fear danced lightly through her thoughts. He placed his hand over hers, pressing her fingers against the flesh above his heart. "Do you want it back?"

She hesitated, then shook his head. "No. Keep it, if you want."

He did want. It was a small piece of her he could take with him when he left. He glanced at the clock.

Seven o'clock. Time enough, perhaps, to ease the ache of the past and create a final memory to last a lifetime.

He met her gaze. There was understanding in her eyes, acceptance in her thoughts. Just one more time, he vowed, and reached for her.