Fucking Time Folder. Nikolai glared at the back of Stefan Darvaak’s head as he introduced Elena to his tailor, a probable rodent shifter of some kind, who looked to be eighty in human years, which meant he was probably five centuries old. He and his assistant, a frail-looking woman in tinted glasses with dark skin and hair, had altered some of Elena’s clothes to accommodate the cord by buttoning on top of the sleeve since she couldn’t put her arm through.
He knew he should be grateful Darvaak was helping them, but still… He had been this close to having her, and he was certain the asshole had interrupted them on purpose. Shifting in the chair didn’t minimize the resulting ache, but he did it again anyway, keeping the bath towel tight at his waist.
Elena smiled as the Time Folder whispered something in her ear and Nikolai fantasized beating the living shit out of him.
“Perfect,” Darvaak said while she set the newly altered shirt to rights.
The little shiny jewels sewn onto the back pockets of her blue jeans winked in the light. Yeah. As if Nikolai needed something else to draw his attention to her ass. He shifted again.
The Time Folder threw a pair of jeans to him, and he caught them in his fist, wishing they were the guy’s neck.
Smiling, Darvaak sat in a leather chair. “I suppose we should get down to business now that it’s clear your charge is not going to die at any moment, leaving me with two bodies to dispose of.”
Nikolai pulled the new jeans on. Perfect fit. Of course, they were; Darvaak always got details right. One more reason to hate him. He tugged on one of the boots he’d carried in from the bathroom.
“Two?” Elena asked, sitting on the sofa next to Nikolai, who yanked on his second boot.
“Oh.” Darvaak grinned. “Oops. I forgot. The Slayer didn’t tell you. If you die, he dies. If he dies, you die.”
Her face clouded.
Forgot? Time Folders never forgot anything. He was provoking them, the bastard. He loved stirring things up. All of them did. Maybe knowing everything got boring. Well, Nikolai could make his life less tiresome. He could make the Time Folder wish he were dead even if he couldn’t outright kill him.
Her eyes narrowed on Nikolai’s face. “You lied to me.”
“A Slayer lie?” Darvaak gasped, then grinned and leaned back to watch the inevitable show he had just breathed to life.
Nikolai stood, and the tailor scurried from the room. His assistant pushed her glasses up on her nose, but kept her head down, needle weaving in and out the shoulder of a black T-shirt furiously.
“I haven’t lied to you, Elena.”
“You did. You said you’d…” Her eyes flooded with tears.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. No tears. Nikolai lowered himself back onto the sofa to keep from taking her in his arms.
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “You said you’d kill me before I turned into a monster. You lied. You can’t kill me or else you kill yourself. You knew that.”
He couldn’t kill her anyway. Ever. He was certain of that now. Even if she became a vampire, he would never be able bring himself to do it.
“What kind of monster do you think you will be?” Darvaak asked.
Her voice trembled. “The worst kind. A heartless, soulless murdering vampire.”
The woman working on the shirt stilled for a moment and then continued her sewing.
The Time Folder cleared his throat and recrossed his legs, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle at his knee. “And how do you know this?”
Her eyes shot to Nikolai, and then she shrugged. “I know. Trust me.”
Darvaak leaned forward. “I trust you implicitly, Elena. Itzov, not so much.”
Nikolai stood. “That’s enough. Let it go. We need to get down to business.”
“You are in my home, enjoying my hospitality, asking me for favors, yet you have the audacity to behave as if you are in your own domain?” Darvaak’s voice remained level and his body eerily still. “The rest of the Underveil might fear you, Slayer, but I don’t. And right now, I’m caught up in a situation where I believe a human has been taken hostage, which by your own laws, is a crime, is it not? Shall we summon a tribunal?”
Nikolai sat down. A tribunal would mean certain death for both of them.
Darvaak leaned back again. “I thought not.”
“I’m not his hostage.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
The Time Folder’s eyebrow arched. “No?”
“He saved my life, actually. I need his help. He…he’s helping me.”
“By promising to kill you?” He folded his arms over his chest. “To keep you from becoming a vampire…”
She nodded. “It’s kinda screwed up, huh?”
“Immensely.”