Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(29)

Chapter Ten


When the pressure of teleporting faded and the ground finally solidified under her feet, Elena opened her eyes…and screamed.

Nikolai clamped a hand over her mouth. “Silence or we’re dead.”

Crap. They were dead anyway. The stone wall they stood on was no more than two feet across, which would seem plenty wide except for the fact they balanced at least five stories up and it was snowing like crazy.

Her eyes locked on what appeared to be a frozen moat below with miles of forest stretching out beyond. Holy crap. They’d landed in a scene from Lord of the Rings or something.

“Don’t look down.”

Right. Too late.

He reached down and took the suitcase from her hand.

Damn, she was sick of this—sick of being terrified, sick of being ignorant and helpless, sick of depending on him for everything. But right now, she had no choice because he’d landed them like a couple of birds perched on the freaking wall of a castle or something a billion feet above the ground in the middle of a snowstorm.

Then it occurred to her that he could only teleport to places he’d been before. Why had he ever been here?

“Hold on to me,” he whispered.

She grabbed his belt loops on the back of his jeans. He had no coat on over his T-shirt. He had to be freezing, since her teeth were chattering and she wore a parka. Served him right.

She shuffled along behind him, keeping the same foot forward until they reached a huge window in the building at the end of the wall. He pulled his dagger out of his boot and jimmied the lock until the window swung open inward. He paused, holding his breath as if listening, then stepped over the sill and into the room, turning to help Elena. Once inside, he silently closed the window behind them.

A blow came from behind Elena’s knees, sending her to the floor right before a heavy crack filled the blackness.

“Aleksi,” Nikolai whispered.

“Niki?”

Then the sound of a match striking. The tiny orange flame grew as it took hold on a candlewick. The unmistakably perfect form of Aleksandra, dressed in something so sheer she might as well have worn nothing at all, waivered in the flickering light. “Why are you here?”

Nikolai rubbed the back of his head. “To have my skull cracked, obviously.”

She ran to a basin on a small table and retrieved a wet a towel before returning to him. “Here, let me clean it off.”

Elena remained on her knees but covered her nose and mouth. The smell of his blood was unlike anything else. It was a magnet pulling every molecule in her toward him. She rolled in a ball on her side to prevent her body from crawling to him on its own. She gulped a breath of air through her mouth to keep from smelling it, but she could taste it.

“You hurt her,” Nikolai said as Aleksandra wiped the blood from the back of his head.

“No.” She rinsed the rag in the basin and put it back on his head. “She can’t possibly be that fragile. If she is, we’re all dead.”

Nikolai grabbed her wrist. “Meaning what?”

“We can’t talk here. Go to the forest—to the big tree where we played as children.” She grabbed a huge brown fur from her bed and placed it in his arms. “Go now, Niki, before they come.” She pulled Elena to her feet and shoved the suitcase at her. “I’ll follow soon.”

He pulled her back out through the window and leaned against the building. She kept her eyes on his face, rather than look down this time. The sun was rising, softening the harsh lines of his face. He drew her near, hands on neck. “We can’t teleport in or out of the fortress. It’s magically protected to prevent it.”

So close she could taste him, Elena weaved on her feet as Nikolai chanted. Then, with a slam, she knew she had been teleported again. Eyes closed, she breathed deep through her nose, taking in the rich, coppery perfume of Nikolai’s blood, no concern as to where they were. Hell, they could be up on another wall for all she cared. It was as if his blood had rendered nothing else relevant. Her whole body hummed with the scent of him as she dropped the suitcase and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him as close as possible.

A deep, masculine rumbling sound rolled through his chest, reverberating through her body as he reciprocated and ran his hands up her back, entwining his fingers in her hair. “Elena,” he whispered.

Yes. This was what she wanted. She lowered her hands and rubbed over the hard ridge in the front of his jeans, and he groaned again. She needed him with her, against her, in her. She needed to…bite him?

No!

She shoved as hard as she could against his chest, sending him sprawling in the snow.

No.

“What game is this?” he asked, rising to his feet.

Still shaking off the blood-induced trance, she took a step back. There was only an eerie hint of light slanting low through the trees, accenting the angular planes of his face. He’d never looked more beautiful to her—wild and angry, surrounded by the surreal beauty of the untouched forest.

What was happening to her? This was all wrong. She took several more steps back. This wasn’t like her at all. She was attracted to order and convenience. Security and predictability. Not some wild, primitive immortal death angel in the middle of a forest who knows where. A death angel who hated her.

It had to be his blood making her crazy. And every minute she was with him, she found herself more vulnerable. It’s only his blood, she assured herself. She could beat this.