The Last True Vampire (23 page)

Claire retrieved one of Mikhail’s discarded shirts from the floor. It hung almost to her knees and the sleeves fell far past her hands. She was never more aware of his size than she was right now, swimming in the garment like a toddler dressed up in an adult’s shirt. He’d ripped her bra in half. Her jeans, too. Obliterated in his haste to take her. A rush of warmth spread between her thighs at the memory.
Jesus, Claire. Get it together!
The mere thought of Mikhail turned her to mush. Which was why she needed to get the hell out of there so she could think straight.

She buttoned up the shirt and found a belt in the closet that she wound around her waist to make the too-long shirt look more like a dress. This was L.A., no one would bat a lash at her attempt at a fashion statement. Gray light infused the darkened room, the first signs of dawn on the horizon. She needed to leave while it was still dark enough to slip under the radar of the guards posted outside and before the heavy blinds shut down over the windows. If she didn’t get out of there before sunrise, he’d never let her leave.

And honestly, she probably wouldn’t want to.

The Patek watch that had started it all sat on a mahogany dresser and Claire snatched it up and put it on her wrist. She had no idea if she was coming back, and if she wasn’t she couldn’t leave without some part of him to keep close to her heart. With her shoes in hand, she padded from the room, careful to ease the door open with barely a sound, her footsteps were heavy, reluctant. Her own body betrayed her, urging her to stay put.

I’m so sorry, Mikhail.
Guilt burned at the back of her throat. Sat heavy on her heart like a stone. Maybe she’d come to terms with forever. Maybe leaving her humanity behind to be with him would become something she could accept once she removed herself from the situation long enough to give it the serious thought it deserved. But until she put some distance between them she’d never know for sure if the decisions she made—her feelings—were her own or something fabricated by the inexplicable connection between them.

She tiptoed down the two flights of stairs and through the house like the thief she was. Miles from the city, she’d have to walk until she could hitch a ride. Thanks to the fact that she’d left her purse on the sidewalk when Mikhail had saved her from the priest, catching a cab was out of the question. Out the front door and into the driveway, Claire averted her gaze from the gardens and vast lawn. The lush carpet of grass that Mikhail had laid her down in as he’d made love to her again and again in the fragrant night air.

In the eastern sky, the first orange hints of dawn made their appearance. Mikhail would be a prisoner in his own home, and it caused a sick pang of regret to flare in her stomach. He’d be alone. Angry. Hurt. God, she was a horrible person. A coward. She probably wasn’t deserving of the affection he wanted to bestow on her.

She definitely wasn’t deserving of his forgiveness.

CHAPTER

17

Of all the dhampirs Ronan knew, Eric Jenner was the only male more ruthless than himself. Jenner was a true warrior down to the marrow of his bones, fierce and stalwart. A big son of a bitch, too. Even for a dhampir. Once Mikhail turned Jenner, he’d be a force to be reckoned with. A vampire worthy of the position Ronan was about to give him. And he’d be up to his neck in bullshit before he had a chance to adjust to his new existence.

“Siobhan won’t be pleased.” Jenner’s voice boomed without any effort to project, deep and gruff. “She’ll have your balls when she finds out.”

She’s already got them
. Ronan pushed the details of his arrangement with Siobhan to the back of his mind and focused his attention on the task at hand. “You let me worry about her.”

Ronan had known Jenner for almost as long as he’d known Mikhail. It was blind chance that Ronan had stumbled upon the orphaned vampire mere days after he’d escaped from the hell the slayer had left him to die in. Knowing that the future of the race depended on Mikhail’s survival, Ronan hadn’t wasted a second in getting him out of Europe. America had seemed like a world away. Hell, it had been more than two hundred years ago. Jenner had been living in the country for a few months and Ronan had befriended him. So much history. Ronan had thought to take Mikhail far from the Sortiari’s reach. And now that anonymity Ronan had hoped to give his friend was long gone.

“There might be others in the coven who would want to be turned,” Jenner said, thoughtful. “Though Siobhan’s sowed the seeds of her hatred well. She could convince a snake it could fly if it suited her mood.”

True. Hadn’t she convinced Ronan to trade his body for the codex? “I’m not interested in making an enemy out of her, and stealing her people from under her nose isn’t the way to keep her placated.”

“Hers isn’t the only coven in the city. Who else have you reached out to?”

As Ronan’s sole employee, Jenner could be counted on in any situation. He was one of very few Ronan trusted, and beyond capable. But the male was no diplomat. He broke bones first and asked questions later. “I’ve contacted Samuel and Juliana. Their covens are second largest to Siobhan’s.” Of the thirteen dhampir covens scattered throughout the city, none were as powerful as Siobhan’s. Petty squabbles broke out occasionally, but no one seemed interested in testing the female’s mettle. “Three more have contacted me in the past week. As you can guess, they’re all jumping at the chance to transition.”

Jenner snorted. “And tip the scales of power, no doubt.”

That’s what Mikhail and Ronan were afraid of. “They’ll have to be vetted. Their allegiances made.” A price would have to be paid for Mikhail’s blood and it wasn’t simply their souls. “We can’t have vampires running amok all over the city. Boundaries will have to be drawn. Some will probably be asked to move further from the city.” It would be possible once their numbers increased and they could share in their combined power. “Gods, we’re building a society from the ground up. I have no fucking idea where to start.”

Jenner leaned forward in his chair, his dark eyes fixed on Ronan. “Start with me. And go from there.”

“That’s the plan,” Ronan said on an exhausted sigh. “All I want to know from you, Jenner, is are you sure you’re ready?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m ready.” The male rolled his massive shoulders and cracked his neck from side to side. “I’ve been ready for decades.”

So many of them had. Mikhail had been the bane of their existence for so long. The last of the Ancient Ones and not powerful enough to raise his people to glory. But since he’d taken Claire’s blood things were moving quickly. Almost too quickly. Details had to be worked out, alliances broken and made. An army amassed in the span of days when it should take weeks—months—to see it done. And the politics of it all made Ronan’s head spin. In his line of work, when there was a problem he took care of it. You’ve got a sex tape that needs squashing? No problem. Girlfriend’s pregnant by your co-star? No one will ever find out. Your coke dealer is threatening to out you in
Star
magazine? Not with the right incentive not to. But this … Ronan raked his fingers through his hair. If they didn’t get Mikhail’s future kingdom in order, fast, they’d be an easy mark for the Sortiari. And that couldn’t happen.

The bureaucracy of building a kingdom and protecting its king did little for Ronan’s patience, and likewise, he was expected to have it all worked out before Mikhail would even consider turning him. There was nothing more important to Mikhail than securing their safety, but that security balanced on a razor’s edge. It wouldn’t take much to tip the balance and ruin everything they sought to build.

Siobhan was just the female to do the tipping.

“If a tentative peace can’t be reached between Siobhan and Mikhail, there’s no point in any of this, you know.”

Aside from being a big, scary motherfucker, Jenner was also quite brilliant. He might have talked like an extra from
Sons of Anarchy,
but his mind was quicker than those of most of the Nobel Prize winners put together. Another reason Ronan had picked him to be the second dhampir for Mikhail to turn.

“Do you think she’ll declare war?” The question was rhetorical. Of course she would. The female craved blood and carnage the way others craved chocolate.

“She’ll make her demands—and expect them to be met without question,” Jenner remarked. “And when Mikhail tells her to fuck off, she’ll draw first blood. Of that I have no doubt.”

Nor did Ronan. “What do you think she’ll demand? I mean, besides an oath from Mikhail not to turn a single member of her coven.”

“Maybe a throne of her very own?” Jenner gave a rueful laugh. “The possibilities are endless.”

Exhaustion weighed heavily on Ronan as he slumped back in the plush leather armchair in his office. The skyscraper looked out over downtown Los Angeles, but he couldn’t be bothered to appreciate the view or anything else right now. He doubted that continuing to fuck her senseless would do much to distract Siobhan from her ambitions. Rather, he suspected that she’d use her arrangement with him as a tool against Mikhail to plant a seed of doubt in the male’s mind as to Ronan’s loyalty. And trying to convince her that swearing allegiance to Mikhail was in her best interest was proving to be a daunting task, to say the least.

“An accord must be reached, no matter how tenuous.” Even veiled peace was better than outright aggression. At any rate, it would buy Ronan some much-needed time. “It’s achieving it that’s the problem.”

“Agreed.” Jenner’s voice scraped over Ronan’s ears like sandpaper. “What we need is a distraction.”

“How do you distract a female with a one-track mind?” She’d been relentless over the past week, demanding Ronan’s presence in her bed nightly. Which made it nearly impossible to focus his attention on reaching out to Mikhail’s allies as his king had requested.

“Give her what she wants.” Jenner hiked a heavily muscled shoulder.

Ronan let out a derisive snort. The female only wanted two things: to be fucked and to fight. A kernel of an idea took root in his mind and he could have kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Jenner, you clever bastard. Are you suggesting that I incite an uprising or two?”

A feral grin spread across the male’s mouth. “Why not?”

It could work. Dissention between the covens was a common enough occurrence. She’d be so busy putting out smaller fires that she’d not only put her suspicions about Mikhail’s mate and the resurrection of his power on the backburner, but she might give Ronan a little space as well. “Of course, it could all backfire and then we’ll be seriously fucked.”

Jenner laughed. A truly menacing sound without humor. “I thought you could fix anything, Ronan.”

Up until a couple of weeks ago, so did he. “I’ll need help.” He knew more than a few dhampirs who enjoyed stirring shit up, but he had to keep his eye on the long game. A week’s worth of distraction wouldn’t be enough to derail Siobhan’s ambition. He’d need a solid month, maybe more, before he could be assured of Mikhail’s—and Claire’s—protection. And he wasn’t even taking into account that it would be days after his transition before he would be back to 100 percent. “I have to know I can count on you as well. Because if Siobhan figures out what we’re up to, she’ll have both of our asses.”

Jenner’s eyes narrowed to dark slits, making him appear even more deadly, his pupils flashing with quicksilver. “I might be a member of her coven, but she doesn’t
own
me. I plan on declaring my independence from her tonight. She’ll be pissed, but what the fuck do I care? Once I’m turned, I’d like to see her try to wreak havoc on me. When she sees the evidence of Mikhail’s ascension to power, she’ll be begging for a male to bite her and drink her dry.”

By far the truest words spoken today. She talked a good game, but what Siobhan truly craved was power. She’d throw her convictions to the side in an instant if being turned helped to elevate her status. Ronan’s gut clenched at the realization. After Mikhail turned him, he’d be stronger. More powerful than he could imagine. Finally becoming the creature he was born to be. That strength and power would be more seductive to Siobhan than ever and breaking his agreement with her would be nigh impossible. He’d pledged his body to her like a common whore. For Mikhail. His king. And his friend.

Not even a vampire king could break the troth once it was given. It had been made with blood and only though blood could it be broken. Ronan was officially fucked for all eternity.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Jenner did nothing to hide the accusation in his tone. “And until you tell me all there is to know, I’m not helping you do shit.”

Ronan pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. Trust was essential if any of this was going to work, and there was no use in demanding Jenner’s trust if Ronan wasn’t willing to return it. There was too much history between them for him to doubt his friend’s loyalty. “Claire is gone.”

Jenner let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “Gone. How is that even possible? If she’s tethered him and she’s had his blood—”

“Mikhail’s mate is human. Sort of makes tracking her down problematic.”

Jenner leaned back in his chair and howled. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ronan. Mikhail’s got bigger problems than Siobhan if that’s the case. How do either of you possibly hope to resurrect the race if his mate is not only a human but not even present for him to feed from?”

Ronan had tried to remain optimistic, but when Jenner laid it all out like that, he had to admit, their situation was pretty gods-damned bleak. “She’ll come back. And when she does, Mikhail will turn her.”

Jenner arched a brow. “Oh, so she’s a magic human, then.”

Ronan chose to ignore the male’s sarcasm. “You let me worry about Mikhail’s problems while you focus on
mine
. I want Siobhan distracted. Can you do that or not?”

Jenner pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, his brow furrowed as he quickly scanned whatever message was on the screen. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about keeping her busy.” His eyes met Ronan’s, his expression grave. “Slayers attacked two covens today. In broad daylight. Hers and Saeed’s in the Valley. They don’t care about discretion, and more attacks will come.”