Love Me to Death (Underveil) (8 page)

He broke the surface with a splash and wiped his face with a washcloth.

She gestured to the tray. “Want some?”

He nodded and opened his mouth. She turned to give him access to the tray.

Bubble-covered hands emerged from the water. “Help me out here.”

She selected a slice of turkey and rolled it up. Like a baby bird, he opened his mouth and bit off a piece.
That mouth.
Her face got hot, and she turned away. After a moment, he cleared his throat, and she turned to find him eyeing the other half of rolled turkey slice in her hand. She raised it to his open mouth, and he grabbed her wrist, taking the bit of turkey and her fingers into his mouth, too. His lips and tongue were so warm. She squirmed as pulses of excitement bolted through her as he sucked on her fingers. This should not have been so stimulating. He was her captor. A man sent to kill her. A man who
should
kill her, seeing how she was about to turn into a monster. How long would it take before her eyes turned red and her soul black? Not long enough, she realized, looking at the gorgeous man with his lips wrapped around her fingers. Not nearly long enough.

N
ikolai saw it in Elena’s eyes: lust, pure and simple, just like that coursing through him. She wanted him. There was no doubt about it. And he needed her. Like he needed to breathe, he needed this woman.

“Join me.” His voice was barely a whisper—more of a prayer, actually.

Her pupils dilated slightly, but her knees clamped together and she stiffened and then turned away. Her mind was battling with her body.

He relaxed back against the marble, willing her body to win the war. “I won’t touch you. I promise. The water is perfect.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, and he almost shouted “Hallelujah.” She was close. He knew it.

“I didn’t violate you last night at the hotel. I promise not to touch you now…”

She jerked around, leaving her back to him again. Her shoulders rose and fell with rapid breaths. So close.

“Unless you want me to.”

Her breathing stopped. He had no doubt she craved his touch, but he also knew she was stubborn and scared. Her world had changed completely in the last two days. He wished they could have met under different circumstances—just a man and a woman with no barriers between them.

“And if I don’t want you to touch me?” she whispered, still facing away.

“Then I won’t.”

She swiveled to face him. “I don’t.”

Liar.
“Very well.”

She set the tray down and stood, clutching the top of the towel wrapped around her. “Please turn around.”

“
You
didn’t.”

Her face flushed red.

God, she was beautiful. He almost couldn’t stand it. He had to find a way to help her—to save her from her fate. Hell, to save
him
from her fate. There had to be a way to trick biology. He turned away to give her privacy. When he heard the gentle splashing as she entered the water, he almost groaned. When he met her eyes, he did.

A startled look crossed her face, and she slumped lower in the water until the bubbles were up to her neck. “You promised.”

Unsure of how his voice would come out at that moment, he simply nodded.

“This tub is like a swimming pool,” she said after a few moments. “Huge.” She ducked under, and he offered her a washcloth when she surfaced. She wiped her face. “Exactly what is…um…?” She pointed with her thumb to the door.

“Stefan Darvaak?”

“Yeah, Stefan. What is he?”

“A pompous asshole.”

She wiped her hands on the cloth and grabbed a piece of cheese, exposing the side of her breast as she did. Nikolai let his head fall back against the tile with a thud.

She settled into the water. “Seriously. He’s not a Slayer, obviously. And he’s not a vampire. What else is there?”

Nikolai closed his eyes to prevent going crazy at the sight of her. “You name it, it’s out there. Conjurers, sorcerers, channelers, vampires, shifters, Banshees, Skin Jumpers, demons of all kinds, and even Time Folders like Stefan Darvaak.”

“Time Folder,” she repeated.

Something brushed his lip, and he sat up and opened his eyes with a start. She smiled and waved the piece of cheese. He opened his mouth, and she dropped it in, pulling her fingers away before he could suck on them again.

“So what does he do?”

He shrugged. “Besides piss me off? He makes an obscene amount of money.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why is he called a Time Folder?”

“Because he folds time…if you pay him enough.”

She sat forward, and for a moment, he thought her breasts would rise above the bubbles. Correct that. He
hoped
they would, but they didn’t. God, he wanted to touch her. She was only a foot or so away from his hands—and other parts of him for that matter.

“He folds time. What does that mean?” Her color had returned, and she sounded more like the Elena he enjoyed. The feisty one that had had told him to kill her then and there because she would not go with him. Thank goodness he hadn’t and she
had
.

“It’s hard to explain, but he can manipulate time and travel back via limited parameters to observe. It’s very useful to the Slayers. He can be an eyewitness to crimes.”

She scraped some hair from off her forehead. “It’s a good thing I’m not going to be around long because I’d never get this stuff straight.”

He leaned forward. “What do you mean, ‘not be around long’?”

She grabbed his shoulder, desperation clear in her touch and expression. “You have to promise me something: Don’t let me become one of those creatures. I can’t live like that. You have to promise to use that sword and end me before it happens.” A tear ran down her cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb. “Promise me,” she insisted.

He shook his head. “Humans don’t just change over into vampires. They replicate by killing humans, draining their blood, and replacing it with some of their own. You were born of one, not bitten and turned by one. It’s unprecedented.”

“Promise, Nikolai, or I’ll kill myself before it happens.”

Seeing her fear made him ache. If a promise would make her feel better, he would give it, even if there was no way he could carry it out. He reached under the water and grabbed her ankle, then gently tugged her closer from her side of the tub. “I promise you, Elena Arcos, I will kill you.”

“Aww. Isn’t that romantic?” Stefan said from the bathroom door. “Sweeter words have never been uttered. I bet you are a real winner on Valentine’s Day, Slayer.”

Elena could feel Nikolai’s tension through his grip on her ankle, but he said nothing.

“My tailor and his assistant are here when you two lovebirds decide to leave the nest. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of selecting some things from the suitcase to be adapted to accommodate the cord, Elena. You’re going to be a bit more of a challenge, Itzov. They brought some items that might fit, though.” He winked at Elena. “No rush. They won’t be ready for a while.” This time, he shut the door.

After he’d been gone a moment, Nikolai loosened his grip on her ankle and stroked circles with his thumb as he stared into space. She cleared her throat. “I can’t decide whether he likes you or hates you.”

His gold eyes met hers, thumb still making lazy circles. She’d never been drawn to anyone with this kind of intensity, and it unnerved her. Then he moved his face within inches of hers, and she forced herself not to lean in. “How about you, Elena? Do you like me or hate me?” he asked. His gaze darted to her lips, then back to her eyes.

And she was lost.

What did she have to lose? She was as good as dead anyway. She’d seen the monster in the mirror herself. How long before it won? Months? Weeks? Hours? And still, his thumb circled as his hand slid past her knee to her thigh, shooting delicious sparks up her spine.

She closed her eyes and breathed in. There was no more lingering smell of blood, only fragrant bubbles and the distinct odor of Nikolai, which at this moment was like a drug she could get hooked on if she did it even once. But she might be dead any hour now, and once might be all she could ever have.

“You tremble,” he whispered against her mouth.

“You scare me.”

His hand had stilled. “I swear to not hurt you. I could never hurt you.”

She was afraid to open her eyes and see his face. He sounded so sincere. “Except when you kill me.”

“No pain. Only pleasure.”

And then, he slid his hand up and gently stroked across her as his lips met hers. She gasped at the effect of his touch. It was as if every nerve ending in her body were exposed. Her body jerked, and he smiled against her lips.

“Easy,” he whispered, trailing his fingers up her abdomen to the swell of her breast. He deepened the kiss, twining his tongue with hers and his fingers into the hair at her nape . “Relax,” he murmured, but nothing in Elena could relax.

More
. She needed more of him and his velvet tongue and his talented fingers that moved from one breast to the other, torturing her until she thought she might scream. Relax? Not a chance. This was wrong and dangerous, and honestly, downright stupid, but she’d never wanted anything like she wanted Nikolai. And, God, what he could do with his hands…

“Time’s up,” Stefan called from the other side of the door, jarring them to reality with several hard knocks.

“Shit,” Nikolai growled.

He pulled away, and she whimpered. Panting, she stared at him as he held her at arm’s length. Wide shoulders covered in those strange, and at the moment, painfully sexy markings—everything about him turned her on. But it shouldn’t.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out through his teeth. “I might have to kill a Time Folder.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said, half believing him from the look on his face. He was a killer after all.

He shrugged and then smiled. “I can’t. They can only destroy themselves, which is lucky for him.”

As she came back down to earth and the magic faded, she was grateful for the interruption. This man, Slayer, whatever he was, was dangerous. And even though her body disagreed vehemently, sex with him was a bad idea.

He stood and wrapped himself in a towel, but not before she got an eyeful of what he’d had under those bubbles. What in the world would she have done with all that? There was no way it would have worked out logistically, much less any other way.

She stared down at the cord that bound him to her—the one that held her prisoner. They were enemies. He had said so himself. She would need to keep her horny dying wishes to herself. Some things just weren’t meant to be. She stood and wrapped up in a towel as quickly as possible.

What had she been thinking? This guy was death. Death and sex didn’t mix. She had to keep herself under control and not let this ever happen again.

Chapter Seven

F
ucking Time Folder.
Nikolai glared at the back of Stefan Darvaak’s head as he introduced Elena to his tailor, a probable rodent shifter of some kind, who looked to be eighty in human years, which meant he was probably five centuries old. He and his assistant, a frail-looking woman in tinted glasses with dark skin and hair, had altered some of Elena’s clothes to accommodate the cord by buttoning on top of the sleeve since she couldn’t put her arm through.

He knew he should be grateful Darvaak was helping them, but still… He had been
this
close to having her, and he was certain the asshole had interrupted them on purpose. Shifting in the chair didn’t minimize the resulting ache, but he did it again anyway, keeping the bath towel tight at his waist.

Elena smiled as the Time Folder whispered something in her ear and Nikolai fantasized beating the living shit out of him.

“Perfect,” Darvaak said while she set the newly altered shirt to rights.

The little shiny jewels sewn onto the back pockets of her blue jeans winked in the light. Yeah. As if Nikolai needed something else to draw his attention to her ass. He shifted again.

The Time Folder threw a pair of jeans to him, and he caught them in his fist, wishing they were the guy’s neck.

Smiling, Darvaak sat in a leather chair. “I suppose we should get down to business now that it’s clear your charge is not going to die at any moment, leaving me with two bodies to dispose of.”

Nikolai pulled the new jeans on. Perfect fit. Of course, they were; Darvaak always got details right. One more reason to hate him. He tugged on one of the boots he’d carried in from the bathroom.

“Two?” Elena asked, sitting on the sofa next to Nikolai, who yanked on his second boot.

“Oh.” Darvaak grinned. “Oops. I forgot. The Slayer didn’t tell you. If you die, he dies. If he dies, you die.”

Her face clouded.

Forgot? Time Folders never forgot anything. He was provoking them, the bastard. He loved stirring things up. All of them did. Maybe knowing everything got boring. Well, Nikolai could make his life less tiresome. He could make the Time Folder
wish
he were dead even if he couldn’t outright kill him.

Her eyes narrowed on Nikolai’s face. “You lied to me.”

“A Slayer lie?” Darvaak gasped, then grinned and leaned back to watch the inevitable show he had just breathed to life.

Nikolai stood, and the tailor scurried from the room. His assistant pushed her glasses up on her nose, but kept her head down, needle weaving in and out the shoulder of a black T-shirt furiously.

“I haven’t lied to you, Elena.”

“You did. You said you’d…” Her eyes flooded with tears.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.
No tears. Nikolai lowered himself back onto the sofa to keep from taking her in his arms.

She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “You said you’d kill me before I turned into a monster. You lied. You can’t kill me or else you kill yourself. You
knew
that.”

He couldn’t kill her anyway. Ever. He was certain of that now. Even if she became a vampire, he would never be able bring himself to do it.

“What kind of monster do you think you will be?” Darvaak asked.

Her voice trembled. “The worst kind. A heartless, soulless murdering vampire.”

The woman working on the shirt stilled for a moment and then continued her sewing.

The Time Folder cleared his throat and recrossed his legs, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle at his knee. “And how do you know this?”

Her eyes shot to Nikolai, and then she shrugged. “I know. Trust me.”

Darvaak leaned forward. “I trust you implicitly, Elena. Itzov, not so much.”

Nikolai stood. “That’s enough. Let it go. We need to get down to business.”

“You are in my home, enjoying my hospitality, asking me for favors, yet you have the audacity to behave as if you are in your own domain?” Darvaak’s voice remained level and his body eerily still. “The rest of the Underveil might fear you, Slayer, but I don’t. And right now, I’m caught up in a situation where I believe a human has been taken hostage, which by your own laws, is a crime, is it not? Shall we summon a tribunal?”

Nikolai sat down. A tribunal would mean certain death for both of them.

Darvaak leaned back again. “I thought not.”

“I’m not his hostage.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The Time Folder’s eyebrow arched. “No?”

“He saved my life, actually. I need his help. He…he’s helping me.”

“By promising to kill you?” He folded his arms over his chest. “To keep you from becoming a vampire…”

She nodded. “It’s kinda screwed up, huh?”

“Immensely.”

Nikolai opened his mouth to speak, and Darvaak held up his hand. “Not yet. I’ll shock you into unconsciousness and alert them as to where you are if you even utter a peep, Itzov. You’ve involved me in something I’m not happy about, and you’ll indulge me a moment more.”

Nikolai couldn’t believe this man was besting him. The Time Folders were notoriously meddlesome, but also considered rational and fair. He was hoping for a glimpse of the latter attributes. At least Darvaak was calm, as opposed to his counterparts. Over the last two centuries, the only other pair of Time Folders on the planet had become unpredictable at best, as evidenced by the shock he received from a female Time Folder named Hestia the last time the Slayers used them to witness a crime. Stefan Darvaak was the only stable one left—and right now, Nikolai wasn’t so sure about that even.

Darvaak turned his icy eyes to Elena. “So, I only have one more question for you. You fear turning into what you call a heartless, soulless, murdering vampire. Exactly how many vampires do you know?”

“None.”

“So you got this idea from…”

Nikolai fisted his hands to keep from charging him. He was still fucking with them. “Get to the point.”

Elena sighed. “I was shot by one, and we were attacked by three more. They were horrible. My eyes went red when I ingested some blood. I crave it when I smell it. I’m doomed to be a murderer just like they were.”

The girl sewing on the shirt paused again and laid her needle down.

“When did you ingest blood?” Darvaak asked.

Nikolai cut in and answered. “I ran a little test at the hotel. It was only a drop. Her body reacted. There’s no refuting the evidence.”

“I need to see it. Can you replicate it?”

“No!” she cried.

Darvaak placed his hands on her shoulders. “I am trying to help you. I can’t do that until I’m certain what we’re dealing with. Please. Just one time.”

Elena took a deep breath. “Fine.”

She turned her huge, tear-filled eyes to Nikolai, and his heart hammered. The poor woman was terrified, not of him, but of herself. He forced down his uncustomary sympathy and straightened his shoulders. Bit by bit, she was breaking down his resolve, and he knew it would mean his doom. Before her, it was so easy. Vampires were all bad and had to be destroyed. Now, every single solid truth he had held seemed made of gauze, like the flimsy garments of the elves.

“Quit staring at me and just do it,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

As Nikolai pulled the dagger out of his boot, he noticed the woman at the table near the back wall was stone still, watching him. Hands in lap. “Perhaps we should be more private about our business.”

Darvaak shook his head. “My employees are completely loyal. That or they are dead.” He held his hand out, palm up toward Nikolai. “Please, allow me. I’m testing a theory.”

Nikolai placed the dagger hilt in his hand, and Darvaak sliced the tip of his forefinger, then handed the weapon back. “Open your eyes please, Elena,” he said as he got on his knees in front of her. “Yes. Now your mouth.”

She obeyed, and he placed his forefinger on her tongue and then withdrew it.

Nikolai’s body went rigid everywhere as he imagined that tongue on his own fingers…or in his mouth…or on his… A growl rumbled deep in his chest. He was going to kill Darvaak, plain and simple.

“Easy, Slayer,” he said. “It’s just an experiment, not a challenge. Look. No reaction.”

Nikolai met Elena’s deep blue eyes and loosened his grip on the dagger hilt. The Time Folder was right; her body hadn’t reacted to the blood.

“Now you, Itzov,” he said, returning to his chair.

Nikolai, never taking his eyes from Elena’s, pricked the end of his thumb and noticed she had clamped her lips shut. Was it him she rejected, or was it that she suspected, as he did, that it was his blood specifically that affected her? He held his thumb up, and she shook her head. Instead of forcing her mouth open like he wanted to, he simply repeated what he had done at the hotel and wiped his thumb across her bottom lip. There was more blood than last time, shimmering like macabre lip gloss. He held his breath, stunned by the revelation that he
wanted
his blood to affect her.

“Please, Elena,” Darvaak said. “I understand he repulses you, but we need to know.”

Repulsed her?
The man was as good as dead. Truly immortal or not, Nikolai would find a way.

Her tongue darted out, and she covered her face. Her shoulders shuddered, and a sob escaped her. The girl in the tinted glasses scooted to the edge of her seat as if to rise, but Darvaak held up his hand. “Let’s have a look, and then it will all be over.”

Elena lowered her hands and then slowly opened her eyes—her piercing, crimson eyes—and all of Nikolai’s blood shot straight to his cock. God, fate was a sick, twisted bitch.
Doomed.
He was certainly and absolutely heading straight for the fiery pits of hell, he realized, as he lusted for his sworn enemy, the vampire.

After an almost unendurable few moments, the red faded, leaving her irises the wild, stormy blue of the ocean.

Nikolai could breathe again.

“It’s species related,” Darvaak said, appearing totally at ease. “Perhaps even more specific than that.”

Me. Let it only be me,
Nikolai’s subconscious screamed to his horror. He sat back against the sofa cushions, trying to appear nonchalant. He deserved an Oscar for this performance.

“And just how did you come to be a vampire?” Darvaak asked. “This is very important, Elena.”

“I-I was born this way.”

“Her father was Gregor Arcos,” Nikolai said, hoping to put an end to the fifty questions game.

Both eyebrows shot up then. Darvaak uncrossed his legs and scooted to the edge of his seat. “Father as in your maker, or father as in insert tab A into slot B?”

Nikolai shot to his feet. “It’s not a fucking joke.”

The Time Folder stood as well. “It damn well isn’t, Slayer. Sit down!” For a moment, he was sure Darvaak was going to zap him, but then he returned to his customary composed demeanor. “Please.”

Nikolai sat, but everything in him rebelled against it. He hated not being in control, and at that moment
everything
was out of his hands: Elena’s safety, the secrecy of their location, even his own life. All of it rested in the well-manicured hands of this smartass Time Folder. What a fucking mess.

“Her father bred with a human.”

“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Darvaak stood and paced down the long glass wall overlooking the tops of pine trees outside the high rise. “I didn’t know human/vampire progeny were possible.”

“They’re not,” Nikolai said.

Darvaak stopped his pacing and stood behind Elena. “Yet, here she is. Proof yet again that nature…or the unnatural finds a way.” He strode to the woman who had set her sewing aside and took her hand. “Before we get to the issue of the cord binding the two of you, I’d like to introduce you to someone, Elena.” He escorted the tailor’s assistant to stand right in front of her. “This is Margarita Juarez. Margarita, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Elena Arcos.” The woman took off her tinted glasses. Stefan Darvaak stepped back and smiled. “And now, Elena, you can say you know one.”