“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.”
He blanched at the acid in her tone. “I didn’t cloak you because it takes energy to hide a human in the human world. The energy caused by teleporting dissipates, but cloaking leaves, for lack of a better description, a trail. Simply cloaking my clothes will leave a weak signal. Cloaking you would leave a much stronger one.”
That made sense, she supposed, but she still hated it…and him. She looked around the room again and spotted the open bathroom door. She really needed to use the restroom and take a shower. Surely he’d untie her for just a moment. “I swear I won’t run. Please untie me so I can have some private moments in the bathroom.”
“No.”
“So I can’t even pee?”
“Of course you can. You may do whatever you wish. Shower, relieve yourself. Hell, pleasure yourself for all I care. The cord remains.”
“Until I’m dead.”
“Yes.”
She really didn’t have a choice. Unless he killed her in the next two minutes, she was going to pee herself.
“Let’s go.” She entered the bathroom and realized the cord was long enough for him to remain outside while she used the toilet. She closed the door in his face with a slam and stifled a grin. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
He would have to come in if she were going to shower. Though it probably wouldn’t be that big a deal. Even though it was obvious from the perpetual bulge in his pants he was male and she was female, he had made it clear he hated her—or he hated whatever it he thought she was. Tears stung the back of her eyelids. Clearly he considered her beneath him.
Nikolai leaned his forehead against the closed door. He wanted to have this woman beneath him. His body all but screamed it out loud. He had to have her. No more games. No more waiting. She was his, and he would make it so.
He stared at the pulses of his soul as it traveled the exposed inches of the cord before disappearing behind the closed door. There had been fireworks when their souls collided on the cable between them. There would be fireworks when their bodies met as well.
She had flushed minutes ago. He knocked. “My turn.”
There was no response. He tried the door to find it locked. What the devil was she up to? He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a lock pick, and popped the door on the first try. He found her sitting on the closed toilet lid, knees drawn to her chest, sobbing and trembling all over. He crouched in front of her, but she buried her face in her arms.
“Hey.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You okay?”
A choked laugh came from her. “Am I okay?”
He ached to see her like this. “Yes. That was my question.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze directly. “No, I am not okay.” She unfurled and sat up straight. “I can’t believe you have the balls to ask me that. How can you even imagine I would be okay?”
Nikolai swallowed the lump in his throat. “I simply wanted to—”
“To what?”