stared. “What?”
Nicolas leaned forward as Misha licked his hand. “The disease is different. It feeds off energy. Any food provides Misha with energy, which the diseased cells use to multiply and spread. She’s literally starving to death when she eats and feeding her makes the disease spread.”
She slapped the food container on the floor. Misha whined. Nicolas arched a brow.
“Starving to death when I feed her? What do you propose I do, let her not eat and hope that will help? She’s dying, dammit! She’s dying and there’s not a damn thing I can do. All my research has been useless. I’m a vet and I can cure other people’s animals, but not my own dog.”
Maggie pressed a trembling hand to her face. No more tears. The gentle pressure of a hand squeezing her shoulder made her look up. Nicolas’s expression softened.
“Maggie, I’m sure you’ve done everything for her. I can tell how much you love her. Don’t give up. Modern science can’t fight ancient, dark magick. Hasn’t your research shown this disease to behave abnormally, unlike anything you’ve ever seen?”
She remembered how the cells divided when she added a drop of healthy dog blood. How they seemed to almost …
Eat it.
Maggie closed her eyes in disbelief. It made no sense. None. Science demanded logic, answers, evaluation. What Nicolas proposed was pure nonsense.
Her eyes flew open. She jerked away from him and went to the fridge, shoving the container back inside. “If Misha has a new type of disease, there’s a perfectly logical explanation for it.”
Nicolas stood and parked a lean hip against the arched doorway. “You trusted I was telling the truth before when the Morph was outside. Trust me now, Maggie. Go with your instincts.”
A bitter laugh escaped. “That wasn’t instinct. It was pure behavioral science. You looked right when I asked you if there was something out there that could hurt me. That indicates you were remembering. If you had looked left, it would have told me you were making up a lie. The eyes reveal more than most people realize.”
“And so does what’s deep inside a person.” Nicolas advanced. “Don’t look to science, Maggie. Look inside. Stop being logical. Logic has nothing to do with it.”
He ran a thumb across her cheek. “Logic has nothing to do with this. These feelings we shared toward each other when we met. I know you have them. Don’t fear them. They’re perfectly natural and expected. Just like your parents shared.”
Maggie studied him, obliquely noticing the lacerations on his face had shrunk. I must be drunk, she rationalized. Wounds didn’t heal that fast. Instead, she focused on the swirling caramel of his brown eyes. Faint memories tugged. Parents. Forest and mountains. Familiar warmth of friends, love, strong bonds. Her father affectionately licking her mother …
Licking?
“It’s plain, simple biology,” she asserted, struggling with her emotions as he swept his thumb over her jawline. “Sexual attraction, nature’s means of propagating the species.”
His eyes darkened. “Have you ever wanted to propagate like this?”
Maggie put a hand to her swimming head. “No,” she admitted. “It’s the wine. Alcohol lowers inhibitions. Which is why women sleep with men they just met.”
Nicolas bent his head toward her. With one hand, he caught her curls, swept them back from her ear. Warm breath feathered over her cheek. Maggie caught his very male, woodsy scent, reminding her of pine forests and wildness. “Is that why you kissed me? Why you began removing your blouse? Two glasses of pinot noir?”
His mouth nuzzled her neck. Maggie moaned as he nipped it, then delivered a soothing lick. Her hands anchored on his shoulders. Thoughts of magic, strange creatures and danger evaporated like raindrops on a hot Florida blacktop.
Nicolas set her back. His gaze burned into hers. “Not wine, Maggie. We both know it.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
Nicolas cupped her face, bent his head as if to kiss her. Then he uttered almost a growl, and jerked away.
“No. Not now,” he muttered.
His dark brows pulled together in a frown. Her body left aching and yearning, Maggie shouldered her pride and buttoned the blouse.
“I think you should go. I’m tired.” Maggie managed to force the words out.
“I think I should stay,” he said quietly, his gaze searching hers. “You shouldn’t be alone now. It’s too dangerous here.”
“From whatever was outside? How do you expect me to believe in something I can’t see?” She collapsed onto the couch.
“Do you think I was lying, Maggie? Do you think something wasn’t trying to get inside?”
The little hairs on the back of her neck rose. “I believe you believe that there are such creatures, Nicolas. But asking me to swallow a story about a magical creature that shape-shifts …? You might as well ask me to believe in something as silly as werewolves. Maybe it’s them I need to fear. It’s nearly a full moon.” She threw back her head, gave a short, fake howl.
One dark brow lifted again. “Not bad,” he drawled. “But in time, you’ll do better.”
He paced over to the door, checked the locks. Next he checked the windows, shut the curtains. Maggie rubbed her arms, her confused, muzzy emotions raging. “Nicolas, what are you doing?”
He shot her a hooded look from beneath long, dark lashes. “I need to secure your house.”
“Against what?”
“Against anything needing to get inside. I’m staying the night, Maggie.”
“You don’t act … interested.”
In answer he cupped her face, drew her toward him. Nicolas kissed her, a warm authoritative kiss. His tongue swept over her lips, danced inside as she opened to him. He groaned and tore himself away. Breathing ragged, eyes dark and wild, he visibly fought to control himself.
Elated, yet confused, she licked her lips and touched his arm. “Then why not?”
“Now isn’t a good time, Maggie.” Nicolas drew in a deep breath. “I want … time. I want to make love to you more than I want my next breath. All night long. When I know it’s safe.”
“I feel perfectly safe.”
He shot her a level look. “You’re also intoxicated.”
Disappointment mingled with newfound respect. Another man would simply take advantage of her being drunk, and happily walk off without caring he might have left behind a package awaiting delivery in nine months.
“Go to sleep, Maggie. I’ll protect you.”
From what? Whatever mythical creature that attacked him? Or against himself?
Maggie
