Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(11)

She yanked a halter-top sundress off the hanger and stepped into it, then pulled the cord to get more freedom of movement. “Help me out here,” she said. “I can’t do it one handed.”

He moved closer to give her use of both arms. She hated him being this close because it made her body go stupid. Really stupid. He plans to kill you. At least that’s what he said. He could off her so easily, yet he hadn’t. Something was holding him back. Her heart beat a tad faster as it filled with hope. Maybe she could escape before he made good on his threats.

“Please turn around,” she said once the dress was pulled to her waist under the gown.

“For God’s sake, woman,” he growled, turning away. “I’ve seen your body all day. Don’t flatter yourself.”

His words stung, which was beyond ridiculous. She yanked the hospital gown off and pulled the halter up and tied it behind her neck. “Fine. Done.”

He put the suitcase on the floor between them and extended the handle. “Hold this and don’t let go.”

Bossy jerk. She grabbed the handle.

He placed his hands on the side of her neck and then started that unintelligible chant he had done at the hospital. The tingly warmth from his fingers emanated through her body.

“Think of a hotel in another city where you have stayed that you can picture well. In your mind, recreate the lobby or the parking lot, if possible. Do not imagine yourself in any position other than standing next to me.” He arched an eyebrow. “Are we clear?”

A loud crash and men’s voices downstairs caused her to jump. “Yes.”

“Imagine it now.” He closed his eyes and chanted.

The air warmed, and she felt as though she were dissolving—or more accurately, evaporating. Then, like before, it was as if her entire body were slammed by pressure from all sides at once. When everything stilled, she opened her eyes to find herself in the lobby of a Texas hill-country resort she had visited last summer. She and Nikolai stared at each other in the dark corner where they’d landed, suitcase clutched tightly in her hand between them.

He nodded. “Well done.”

She fought the urge to smile. God, she was pathetic to respond to his praise.

“You look terrible,” he said.

So much for praise. “Thanks.”

He balled the cord in his palm, then placed her hand over his, concealing it for the most part. To anyone else, it looked like they were simply holding hands. A huge, sword-wielding, bare-chested god with a scrawny chick. “Wait. You can’t just go prancing around with that thing strapped to your back.”

“Number one, I never prance. Number two, I’m concealed by a partial human Veil. What they see is me in a business suit.”

“What do they see when they see me?”

“You. Exactly as you are.” Grabbing the handle of her suitcase in his free hand, he pulled her to the gift shop near the registration desk and plucked the first baseball cap off of a souvenir display and passed it to her, dropping her other hand. “Put it on with your hair hidden underneath.”

She read the cap out loud. “Ride ‘em cowgirl?” Classy. She twisted her hair on top of her head and slipped the cap over it while he paid. A disguise, maybe? No telling. The guy was unpredictable.

He balled the cord up and pressed his palm against hers again. “Do as I say and follow my lead. Do not act out or let on that you’re unwilling, or I will not only kill you, I will kill everyone in this room. Are we clear?”

Giggles erupted from two little girls getting their faces painted at a table across the room near the door.

“Clear.”

He sauntered to the desk with Elena in tow as if he owned the world—and her, too, for that matter—and requested a room for the night. He paid in cash and took the card key from the girl who all but openly propositioned him from behind the counter. Holy crap. He probably got this all the time. Elena looked him up and down trying to imagine him in a business suit. Were the situation different, she would probably be drooling just like the clerk who told him to call her if he needed anything. Emphasis on anything.

The room was decorated in Texas rustic style with a huge king-size bed that seemed to scream “ride ‘em cowgirl,” just like the freaking cap she wore. The death angel’s eyes were locked on the bed as well. Maybe he was tired… He adjusted himself. Maybe she was an idiot.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror over the desk and gasped. She still had blood smeared on her face and neck from the shooting. It seemed like it had happened ages ago. No wonder he had her put her hair in a cap. It was caked with blood. She shuddered.

“Are you cold?” he asked, pushing the handle down on her rolling suitcase.

“No. I’m grossed out.”

He looked around the room. “It doesn’t meet your approval?”

“No. I’m grossed out by me. I’m disgusting.” She pulled the cap off, and her blood-caked hair tumbled down over her shoulders. “I can’t believe you didn’t cloak me in a magic spell or whatever it is.”

“Vain, are you?”

“Hardly. I just don’t like going around looking like I bathed in blood.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Isn’t that your wildest dream, vampire?”

Her stomach churned at the hatred in his tone. “I’m not a vampire. I never will be one, so if that’s what you’re waiting on, settle in, buddy. You’re going to get to feel all superior dragging me around looking like you rescued me off the street for a looooong time.”