Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(43)

Still straddling him, Elena’s body tensed. “You bastard.”

“Don’t move,” he said, hands holding her immobile. “Just relax against me until she falls asleep.”

“You did that on purpose. You slipped me a roofie!”

He was glad he couldn’t see her face in the darkness. If it matched her tone of voice, it was deadly. “I’m sorry. I did what I had to do.”

She climbed off him, intentionally kneeing him in the chest as she did so. Had she no self-preservation instincts at all? They could be kicked out in the cold. and she wouldn’t last through the night.

The old woman struck a match and lit the lamp.

“I have to pee,” Elena said. “I’m also thirsty and hungry. Just because you’re an immortal, chauvinistic badass doesn’t mean you can ignore my needs. I’m sick of this, Itzov. I’m sick of you.”





Chapter Fifteen


Elena uncurled her aching fingers from fists when they returned to the wagon. Their little visit with Mother Nature had been less than ideal logistically, but at least Nikolai had been a gentleman about it. Maybe he knew how angry she was and didn’t want a scene in front of an audience.

The woman shook her head when Elena tugged off one of the fur-lined boots she had loaned her. Well, at least someone gave a crap about her comfort. “Thank you,” Elena said. The woman nodded and handed her a bottle of clear liquid.

“That’s not a good idea,” Nikolai warned.

“Was it your idea?” Elena asked, pulling the top off the bottle.

His brow furrowed. “No.”

“Then it’s probably a good one.”

He sat back against the wall of the wagon, dark eyebrow arched. “Suit yourself.”

She took a sniff. Vodka. Good. She liked vodka. She raised the bottle to her lips and took only a small sip. It tasted nothing like what she’d had on the occasions she’d had vodka before things went all weird. Still, after the burn wore off, it left a warm trail all the way down to her stomach, and right now, after traipsing in the snow, warm was good.

She took a larger sip and glared at Nikolai. Biting his lip had been the lowest blow ever. He’d used her weakness to manipulate her. It was mortifying to think her body snatched the steering wheel away from her and was ready to spin off for a joy ride on its own.

She took another swallow from the bottle and closed her eyes while the warmth spread from beyond her throat into her whole body.

She had to get away from Nikolai. Being helpless sucked beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She was not a possession. This was going to end, and it was going to end now.

She opened her eyes and met his. An electric jolt shot straight through her at his intense gaze, zapping through her body to all those places he’d set on fire in the cabin. Shit.

Aleksandra’s words ran through her head. “Turn her, f*ck her, and get rid of her.” Like hell. She took another gulp of vodka. She’d had enough of being manipulated. It was time to turn the tables. She would be in control for once.

The only way to be really safe was to become immortal so these *s out to kill her would have a harder time of it. Margarita had said she didn’t have to be evil. She had a choice in the matter, just like she had a choice right now. And the choice was pretty appealing. She smiled and Nikolai smiled back.

He took the bottle and drank from it. She watched with fascination as his Adams apple moved with each swallow. The lamplight played across his unshaven face, making his skin gold, like honey.

She would become immortal and free herself. Her smile broadened. He tipped the bottle to her in salute and drank again.

Freeing herself from the cord might be the best part of this whole deal. Two could play this manipulation game. She could do a lot worse than having to screw a hot, talented death angel to free herself, right?

Right.

But then what? She had to get away, and she was in the middle of nowhere. She doubted the people in this camp would help her, but there was always the snowmobile hidden in the trees.

First things first. She’d figure out her escape once she was immortal and free from the cord. Nikolai wasn’t the only one who could make plans. And her plan had six easy steps.

Step one: get rid of the audience. She smiled at the old woman, and her smile was returned. Elena placed a hand over her heart, and the woman nodded. Then, she jerked her head toward the back of the wagon in the universal gesture for get lost. The old woman wrapped her shoulders in a quilt and chuckled, then made her way to the back of the wagon. She said something to Nikolai before leaving, but he didn’t respond. He simply stared at Elena until her blood heated and her pulse hammered in her ears. Big, sexy brute of a man. Just his gaze made her wet.

Step two: become immortal. This was trickier and a bit horrifying. She didn’t have the luxury of doubt, though. It had to be done, regardless of her complete and total ignorance of the process and potential discomfort involved in the transition. To be successful, she had to get him to agree to be the blood donor. She crawled over to him, blanket still tied around her waist. His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on in your mind, Elena?”

“Your mouth is on my mind.” Her eyes fell to his lips, and she remembered how soft they were and how good he tasted. As if he were a magnet, she drew closer.

He tilted his head, expression wary.