She shivered. It might have been wiser to wait for Michael, but he was on his way here, anyway. She could feel him getting closer.

She quickly locked the car, then fell in behind a family of four, following them through the parking lot and into the hospital foyer. A nurse directed her to the eighth floor. Mary waited near the elevators. "He sent me,” she explained. “Come on. He won't rest until he sees you."

"Do you know why?” Nikki asked, following the older woman up the corridor. Mary shook her head. “No. All he tells me is that it's urgent.” She shrugged and stopped near a door.

“In you go. I'll wait here."

Nikki gave her a forced smile and stepped into the small, bright room. Jake's broad body was almost lost amongst the machines and tubes surrounding him. She stepped closer, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Nikki.” His voice was harsh and forced through thin, pale lips.

"You're looking good, Jake.” She didn't care about his ghostlike color, the tubes, or the huge bandage around his neck. He was alive. That was all that mattered, all she cared about.

"Liar.” His gaze pinned her, shrewd despite the pain haunting his pale features. “How are you?" She shrugged. “I'll live."

He reached out and took her hand. His grip was weak, yet oddly reassuring.

"I'm not going to die on you, Nik. I'm far too stubborn to let the likes of Jasper win so easily." Tear stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. Jake didn't need her tears—it would only make him worry. “I'm glad."

He squeezed her hand. “I just needed you to know. I don't want...” he hesitated, looking uncomfortable.

“Nik, not everyone in your life has to die. Don't be afraid to live because you're so afraid of death. Don't let fear close your heart."

His words cut through her. She stared at him, wondering how he'd known, how he'd guessed.

"I'm no fool, Nikki. I've watched you grow from an untamed urchin to a warm but distant woman. Let someone break the ice, kid. If not Michael, then someone else. You can't go on as you are." Why not? Why was everyone so intent on changing her life when she was happy?

But am I really? She remembered the long nights of loneliness and wasn't so sure. Awareness raced like fire across her skin. She knew without looking that Michael had stepped into the room. Still holding Jake's hand, she turned and watched him walk to the opposite side of the bed. She wondered if it were a deliberate choice. His gaze, when it met hers, was dark, emotionless, and there was a similar stillness in the link. He was keeping his distance as she asked. So why did she feel so uneasy?

"Good to see you're alive,” Michael said softly. Though his gaze had turned to Jake, she knew all his attention was on her—waiting, assessing.

She shivered, biting her lip. She didn't want the confrontation she sensed coming. She wasn't ready for it. How could she be? Her whole life had changed in some unfathomable way, and the man standing so calmly on the opposite side of the bed had worked that change.

"As I was just explaining to Nikki, I'm too bloody stubborn to die.” Jake's smile was a pale imitation of its usual self.

His eyes closed. She lightly squeezed his hand, then placed it back on the bed. He needed to rest. And she needed to get out of this hospital.

"We should go,” she said softly, glancing at Michael.

He nodded and stepped away from the bed.

"Get the bastard for me, Michael,” Jake murmured as they left. Michael's gaze was bleak as it met hers. “I will."

There was a promise of death in his voice. Nikki gave Mary a brief hug, then followed Michael down the corridor.

"He'll live,” Michael commented as they waited for an elevator.

"I know.” She glanced at him, studying his still features. “Thank you for not leaving him in the tunnel." He shrugged. The elevator doors opened, and several people got out. Nikki stepped inside and pressed the lobby button. In silence, they walked out to the car and drove home. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point by the time she walked into the kitchen. Michael followed her inside and watched her make coffee. The time for confrontation had come. She feared it, and sensed she wasn't the only one.

Apprehension stole through her heart. She ignored it, finally turning to face him. His body was as shadowed as his thoughts, lost to the darkness filling the kitchen.

"What did you do to me, Michael?"

He didn't answer her right away. She gripped her coffee cup tightly, watching his shadow, waiting.

"I saved your life."

His answer was little more than a whisper across the darkness. She couldn't see him—but did she really need to? All she had to do was reach out and listen to the color of his thoughts... She shuddered and resisted the temptation. It wasn't natural to be linked so intimately. And the link was stronger now than it ever had been.

"At what cost? Why do I feel so different?"

"You were dying, Nikki. I had to save you."

"And in the process you broke your vow never to make me do something against my will." He made no answer, a still, silent presence she could feel but not see.

"What did you do?” she repeated, her voice a harsh whisper.

"What I had to do."

"Answer me, damn it! I have the right to know."

"But have you the courage to look beyond it?” A trace of bitterness haunted his words. She glared at the shadows that hid him so well. He sighed.

"What I have done cannot be undone."

"What can't be undone, Michael? What the hell did you do to me?"

"I gave you part of what I am."

Horror rose anew. Did that mean she was a vampire?

"No, it does not.” He moved, though it was something she felt rather than saw. “All I've ever asked of you is trust. I wonder now if you are even capable of it." His contempt lashed at her. She flinched but made no comment, waiting for him to continue.

"What I did was give you part of my ... psyche, part of my strength, part of my life force, I suppose. It gave you life."

And linked us together forever.

She took a step back. Linked for the rest of her life, never to be separated. The one thing she'd been fighting desperately to avoid.

"Not your life. My life."

Her heart skipped several beats. She clenched her fists against the fear pounding through her heart.

“What do you mean?"

"Your life force is linked to mine. As long as I live, you cannot die." She groped for the edge of the bench, her knees suddenly weak. “Oh God, Michael, you're kidding ... right?"

"No. Unless you're beheaded, or have your neck broken, you cannot die.” There was no remorse in his voice, only an odd harshness that somehow spoke of pain.

She ignored it. She was immortal? As eternal as the moon and the stars ... and Michael?

"I am not immortal, Nikki. You noted that yourself some days ago." "Damn it, Michael, that's not the point."

"Then what is?” he asked wearily.

"I don't want to spend eternity with a man who lives his life in shadow, a man who could rule my every thought and desire!"

He made no comment, but his anger rolled across the darkness towards her. Energy burned at her fingertips. She clenched her fists against it. “Could you control me now, if you tried?"

He seemed to hesitate. “I don't know."

She closed her eyes, fighting terror. Michael wasn't Jasper. He wouldn't want to control every aspect of her life. At least not now. But what about one hundred, two hundred years from now? What would happen when he tired of her?

"Questions that mean nothing, because nothing will ever evolve from this. You do not want me in your life, Nikki, and I...?” He hesitated. “...cannot have you in mine." Cannot, or would not have? Either way, it made little difference. “Then why save me? Why not let me die?"

Again he hesitated. “Had you died in Jasper's trap, he could have raised you as one of the undead. I couldn't have stood that."

She rubbed her arms. What a choice. Life as the undead, or life everlasting. Both had their drawbacks, though in far different ways. “How could you possibly share a life force, Michael? How is something like that even conceivable?"

"I'm not sure of the mechanics of it myself. I only know it is possible when two people are ... compatible."

What had he meant to say? She shook her head, not sure if it even really mattered. “Is this the first time you've attempted something like this?"

"Yes.” And the last, if the acidity in his voice was anything to go by. “Do you think it was easy, Nikki, to tear part of what I am away to give you life?"

She winced at his anger. She wasn't a complete fool. Life was a miracle she surely didn't deserve. She was just trying to understand the ramifications.

"Do all vampires do this?"

He hesitated, and doubt ran through the color of his emotions.

"Very few. There are problems. I know of only one other, and he found himself in need of an ... assistant."

"A servant,” she corrected tightly.

He sighed. “There were reasons, Nikki, and his friend was very willing."

"Well, at least the friend was given a damn choice!" A short, sharp movement stirred the air. Light filled the room with brightness, then she was spun around. His eyes glittered with fury and some deeper, darker emotion she couldn't define.

"What is your problem, Nikki? Why do you refuse to trust me? Why can't you just accept the gift I gave you?"

I can't trust you because I might find I love you. And I don't want you to die. “I don't want eternity, Michael. I don't want to live with the fear that one day you will turn on me." His breath hissed through clenched teeth. “If you think me such a monster, then kill me. Take the knife from your boot and stab it through my heart. It will end my life and revert yours back to normal." She stared at him, appalled he could think her capable of such a brutal act.

"Why not? You're doing a damn fine job of it as it is. Why not finish it?” His grip on her arms tightened, bruising her. “But maybe you're happier wrapped in a cocoon of ice. Maybe I was a fool to think otherwise."

"Maybe you are,” she muttered.

He let her go suddenly and thrust a hand through his hair. “Christ, I don't even know why I'm bothering." He turned and walked to the other side of the room. It was a distancing that was mental as much as it was physical. And though this was what she had wanted, it still tore at her.

"What are we going to do then?” he asked after a moment. Arms crossed, he leaned against the wall, his face impassive, distant. As cold as when they'd first met.

She studied him. Anger she could cope with. Frustration and bitterness she could understand. But this?

“About what?"

"You and me, Nikki. What else are we talking about?” His voice was lifeless, his thoughts a vast desert. She met his gaze, uncertain what he wanted from her. He'd stated his intention of leaving so very clearly, and so often, she had no doubt that he would. And yet he obviously needed—or wanted—something from her. “There is no you and me. You said that yourself." He simply stared at her. She shuffled her feet like some errant child and finally looked away. Because, deep down, she knew. He wanted her to confront what she felt, and that was the one course she could not take. Because she was a coward, and because her love had always signaled death. Vampire or not, he could die.

Better to live a lifetime alone than face the weight of one more death on her conscience. Only now, it wasn't just one lifetime she had to face, was it?

"I don't know what else you want me to say, Michael."

"And therein lies our problem.” He pushed away from the wall. “Perhaps the fault is mine. Perhaps I simply expect too much."

She stared at him. Did he want a lie? How could she admit to loving him when she wasn't sure?

And what good would it do, when he intended to leave anyway?

She blinked back sudden tears. Once she had told such a lie. It had led her and Tommy down a path to destruction. His life had slipped as quickly through her fingers as his blood, and she'd vowed never, ever to again admit to feelings she wasn't sure about.

"I'm not Tommy, Nikki. I'm not your damn parents or anyone else. I'm me. And I just want you to admit the truth, if only to yourself."

I can't. Don't you understand that? I can't!

"Then I truly must go."

She was losing him. Fear squeezed her heart tight, almost suffocating her. Afraid to love him, yet afraid to lose him. What a laugh.

"Perhaps this time is wrong for us,” he said, dark eyes gentle. “Perhaps this was a fire always destined to flare brightly and die."

No, she wanted to say, no. But she held the words in check. He has to leave. He can't stay. The statement ran through her mind, over and over, as he turned and walked to the door.

"Don't,” she whispered, as he reached out to grab the door handle. He glanced back at her. “Jasper won't come near you again. I vowed that, and I meant it." She wasn't afraid of Jasper right now. She was afraid that Michael would walk out the door and she'd never see him again.

Wasn't that what she wanted?

"Bye, Nikki.” He turned and left. The door slammed shut behind him, rattling the display case in the living room. A crystal vase rocked and fell to the floor.

The sound of it smashing was the sound of her heart.