It seemed ridiculous to fear him, as he was in his present form. Perhaps Michael and Nicholas were right about him. He was no longer an object of terror, but pity. She leaned cautiously against the doorframe.

"What kind of business?"

"Master Vallsade runs an import-export business, and he consults for universities and collectors from time to time." His last word was nearly lost under the snapping sound when he peeled off the glove by using his teeth to grip the reservoir tips hanging over his stubby fingers.

"What does he consult with them for?"

"Historical artifacts. He's somewhat of an expert, especially on objects dated within the last eight hundred years," Tremont said in a light tone.

"Oh, I see." For some reason, it hadn't occurred to her that Nicholas did something so mundane as run a business or work. Had she imagined he maintained the lifestyle he lived with his mental powers? She shrugged, not having thought about it at all until now. "Am I allowed to leave the apartment?" She didn't have a destination in mind, but was curious to see if she was under house arrest.

He frowned. "I do not know, mistress." His eye darted around the room, avoiding hers. "I can have many things delivered-"

"I want to shop." She eyed the short skirt and grimaced. "Nicholas's clothing selections aren't to my taste."

He sagged. "I would be happy to drive you, mistress." She groaned when practicality interfered with her plans. "I don't have any money. Darn it."

A smile curved across Tremont's grotesque face, bringing a previously unrevealed depth. There was genuine amus.e.m.e.nt in his expression. "That is not a problem, mistress. I know where the master keeps his credit cards."

A giggle bubbled from her, and she shared a laugh with Tremont. The edgy sensation she had experienced in his company dissipated, and she relaxed. "Well, let's. .h.i.t the town then."

Tremont nodded. "I shall fetch one of his cards from the safe."

Emily followed him down the hall into Nicholas's office. She hadn't been in this room before, but wasn't surprised to see the same red and black decorating scheme. A huge antique desk took up about a quarter of the room, and three of the walls were dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stuffed full of books ranging from business to cla.s.sic literature to dog-eared paperbacks written by Peter Straub, Ray Bradbury, and Stephen King. She felt a flicker of amus.e.m.e.nt when she noted no Anne Rice books adorned his shelves.

She waited a few feet from Tremont as he lifted a print from the wall and awkwardly conveyed it to the desk. She turned her head when he returned to the safe and entered the combination. "Nicholas must trust you."

He nodded. "Master relies on me greatly. Once I proved my loyalty, he gave me more responsibilities."

"How can you..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

He removed something from the small safe and closed the door. "What, mistress?"

"How can you stay with him? After everything that happened, how can you..." She shrugged, unable to articulate what she wanted to ask.

"The master is my life," he said simply. "I would die if our connection was severed."

"That's why-"

He shook his head. "There is more to it, mistress. Nicholas and I shared an intense hatred for each other for more than a hundred years." As he spoke, he busied himself with returning the print to the wall. "We hurt each other deeply." His eyes seemed to avoid hers. "I did what I did, and Nicholas destroyed me in retaliation. He took everything I had worked for in my life as master of Tremont Plantation. He took my family." His voice softened to a whisper. "I begged him for death, you know, but he refused. He linked me to him as a deeper punishment."

She frowned with confusion. "I don't understand how you can be so loyal to him, or how he trusts you."

Tremont blinked, as if the question was equally confusing to him. He seemed to have trouble understanding why she couldn't grasp their relationship. "We need each other, mistress. Nicholas is a man who has suffered great pain. I contributed heavily to the anguish he endures." He bowed his head for a moment, and then took a deep breath before continuing. "In caring for him and acting as his companion, I found redemption. Without him, I would not have become the man I am. It is difficult to comprehend, but he saved me from what I had become." She a.s.sumed he wasn't speaking about his physical appearance, but didn't really understand what he meant. "I..." She shook her head. "I guess it doesn't matter."

"Perhaps you will understand in time."

She nodded, though the relationship seemed too complex. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Of course, mistress."

"How do you drive?" She winced, hoping he wouldn't take offense at the insensitive question.

"The Lincoln is modified, mistress."

"I see." She turned and left the office, with Tremont trailing at a respectful distance. "One more thing."

"Yes, mistress?"

"Can we dispense with this 'mistress' nonsense?" She shook her head. "It's so archaic."

He hesitated, but finally said, "If you wish."

"I do."

"What shall I call you? Miss Swesso?"

"Just Emily will do."

"Uh, well, I do not know if the master will allow such forwardness."

She rolled her eyes and stopped in mid-step. She turned to face Tremont, looking down at him with a firm expression. "I want you to call me Emily. Don't be so concerned with Nicholas's wishes."

He looked skeptical. "We shall see if you find that as easy to do as say, mistress."

"Emily," she said impatiently.

He nodded. "Emily." He sounded uncertain, but stopped protesting.

They returned to the apartment later than she had antic.i.p.ated. The shops had been busy, and she had searched through several before she found casual clothes at what she considered an affordable price.

Tremont had just put the key in the door when the k.n.o.b twisted, and the door wrenched open.

She swallowed down a surge of fright when she saw Nicholas framed in the doorway. He wore a white business shirt, slate slacks, and a charcoal vest, having discarded the jacket and tie. He looked elegant, until she met his eyes. Then she realized he was a seething ma.s.s of fury, barely restrained. Another emotion was less identifiable in his gaze.

"Go," he hissed to Tremont through clenched teeth. Tremont's shoulders hunched, but he lifted his hand. "Master-"

Emily lightly touched his shoulder as she shifted the bags in her hand. "Go on."

He shot her a look before scurrying down the hallway.

They stared at each for several seconds without speaking. She was attempting to a.s.sess his expression, while he seemed to be trying to rein in his temper.

The sound of Tremont's door closing broke the silence.

She took a deep breath and entered the apartment. She had to pa.s.s near Nicholas, and with the bags in her hands, it was difficult to navigate the narrow s.p.a.ce. Her body brushed against his, and he made no move to step aside for her. She forced a shaky smile and slipped past him, while her heartbeat accelerated, and her body started tingling. When she was in the living room and several feet separated them, she dropped the bags, taking a deep breath in preparation for facing him, while mentally schooling her expression to hide her physical response to him.

"Where were you?" He sounded uninterested, but the coiled way he held himself revealed his true feelings.

Emily looked at the bags strewn on the floor before looking up at him. "I went shopping."

He lifted a brow. "You have clothes."

She shrugged. "I don't like dresses."

"Hmm." He took a step toward her, but didn't seem too menacing. "You should have said so sooner. I would have been happy to order things for you."

She shook her head. "I don't really know what I like until I see it. More to the point, I was going stir-crazy here in the apartment." She forced a careless grin. "Tremont was kind enough to offer to drive me, and he knew where you stashed the credit cards. Oh, that reminds me," she dug into her pocket and pulled out his Platinum card, "I should return this."

"Keep it," he said.

Nicholas covered the remaining distance between them, but she didn't cower. He was clearly angry, but the other emotion in his eyes tempered her instinctive urge to escape. She still hadn't identified it, but thought it might be well-concealed fear. No doubt, he had a.s.sumed she had somehow convinced Tremont to help her flee.

"I would prefer you don't leave the apartment without me."

She frowned. "Do you plan to keep me your prisoner forever?"

He sighed, running a hand through his tied-back hair, causing strands to work loose from the elastic band. "I'm not overly concerned with you running away. You have nowhere to go."

"I could-" He waved a hand impatiently. "Word reached me today that Koss has arrived in New York. He can only be here for one reason, and that's to torment me."

She lifted a brow. "Why? What is it between you two?"

His eyes avoided hers, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Never mind. I just want you to be cautious. One of the easiest ways for him to hurt me is to hurt you." A shadow crossed over his eyes. "He's ruthless. I don't want you unprotected in the city, vulnerable to him."

She shook her head. "He doesn't even know me. How would he-"

"Koss is gifted, love. He'll find you easily enough, if he's determined." Nicholas sighed.

"Gifted?" Like Erin, she almost asked, but called the words back in time.

"He's almost five thousand years old. His powers are formidable."

"Five thousand..." She trailed off, unable to comprehend his age. She sensed Nicholas's discomfort with the topic and forced herself to change the subject-for the moment. "So, you were worried about me?"

He made a noncommittal sound as he crossed his arms. He didn't seem overly fretful, though he still appeared angry.

She stared at him uncertainly. "Are you still angry about last night?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"And about finding me gone today?"

He nodded.

She frowned. "Why aren't you more...emotional? You usually don't hesitate to show your anger."

He sighed again. "I had little room to be angry when I came home and found you gone. Fear for your safety overwhelmed my other emotions. I didn't like having you gone and worrying about you." The confession sounded like it was painful for him.

A small smile formed on her lips. "I see." Two steps separated them, and she took one toward him.

"Can I ask you a question and have you answer honestly?"

He looked irritated. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"But you don't always tell me everything," she muttered under her breath. "Can you manipulate dreams?"

He blinked. "Yes, if I concentrated, and I knew the dreamer very well."

"Have you ever manipulated any of my dreams?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

He shook his head, and his gaze didn't waver from hers. "No. I have no reason to. If I wanted tocontrol your thoughts, it would be much easier when you're awake. Eye contact is the most effective way to manipulate someone's mind."

Her shoulders sagged, and she took another step forward, until their bodies were touching. Emily stroked his cheek, caressing away the line of worry she found. "It's all true then."

His brow furrowed as his frown deepened. "What is?"

She touched his lips with her fingers. "It doesn't matter." Erin had known he would find her again. She had given him permission to change her upon their reunion. She had spoken for her future self. Did that mean Emily had acquiesced to Nicholas? A small headache formed behind her eyes when she tried to figure it out. She decided-standing so close to Nicholas, hearing his slow heartbeat reverberating in her ears, feeling his lips under her fingers-it didn't matter right then. In each of her past lives when they had met, she had recognized him. She did now too. He was the other half of her soul. She didn't know if she loved him yet in this life, but could see a day when she would. The thought was intoxicating and scary.

"What's gotten into you?" Her fingers m.u.f.fled his voice.

She smiled, but didn't answer. She wasn't ready for him to know she knew about the promise Erin had extracted from him. Right now, she only wanted to feel his arms around her. She didn't want to have to think about how accepting him would change everything she had been certain of before. She didn't want to think at all. She just wanted to feel.

Emily leaned forward to kiss him.

Chapter Twelve.

Nicholas stiffened as he pushed her away. "What are you doing?"

She stared at him with wide eyes. "I just wanted to touch you," she whispered, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact in the face of his rejection.

"Why?" His eyes searched her face, and he was clearly puzzled. "Most of the time, you don't want me near you. What's different?"

She shrugged. "Never mind, okay?" Emily walked past him, averting her eyes. Didn't he realize how difficult it had been for her to reach out to him? Why did he have to make it so hard for her?

He sighed and touched her arm. "Don't go."

She kept her head turned away. "I'm sorry about last night. I've already apologized. I told you why I did it. If you can't forgive me for something so harmless, there's nothing else I can do."