Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(20)

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 *.”

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.