The Last True Vampire (4 page)

“No, it isn’t.” The words left Claire’s mouth before she could stop them from escaping. She didn’t usually call people out on their bullshit, just used it as leverage. But it seemed she couldn’t help but point out his lie.

He canted his head to the side and pinned her with a stare that was much too lucid for his drugged-out state. Something silvery glinted in the depths of his dark pupils and Claire gave herself a mental shake. Maybe she was getting a contact high? “Why would you say that?”

Yeah, Claire, why would you?
She was supposed to be inviting his trust, encouraging him to lower his guard, not put him on high alert.
Eye on the prize. Get your hands on that watch and get the hell out of here.

Rule of the hustle number five: Never break character. She was in a club, surrounded by drugs and alcohol. It would throw up all sorts of red flags if she was the only woman in the place who wasn’t at least rocking a buzz. She couldn’t turn off the hookup vibe she’d been sending his way just because her internal lie detector was flashing. Besides, who was she to judge?

“You just don’t look like a Michael to me, that’s all.” Claire wrapped her fingers around his large forearm, braced against the wall beside her. Holy shit, the guy must have been chiseled from marble. She caressed a path to his wrist and brought his hand down so it rested on her hip. At this angle, she should be able to flip the clasp on the watch. Once it was good and loose, he wouldn’t even notice when it slipped off his wrist.

His nostrils flared when their bodies connected, and he stepped in closer, so close that Claire had to crane her neck up to look into his face. A shiver raced across her flesh. Was it the rush of the con or the thrill of that large palm cupping her hip, his fingers squeezing her as though barely restrained? “Your scent is maddening.” His voice was a ragged, desperate growl in her ear. “And I want nothing more than to taste you.”

Okay, she’d heard weirder. But the way he spoke—his voice slightly accented in a way that made it hard to pinpoint a region—coupled with the formality of his words piqued Claire’s curiosity. Who in the hell was this guy, anyway? And just what would
tasting her
entail? As she contemplated the possibilities, she couldn’t deny that the prospect of having his lush mouth anywhere on her body made Claire’s brain go a little fuzzy. Rule number six of the hustle: Never lose control.

Keeping her wits about her was a must right now and she couldn’t let his sexy voice or
GQ
good looks distract her. The whole point of this game was to keep him so occupied that he wouldn’t notice that she’d lifted his watch. Her goal had been to get him all hot and bothered and then move in for the kill. Dude was already pretty worked up. So it was time to get on with the show.

“I have to admit, I’ve been watching you all night.” Claire made sure to keep her voice nice and breathy. “Imagining what it might be like to kiss you.” She licked her lips as she stared up into those endless blue eyes and let out a sigh that ended on a moan. His brow creased at the sound, and he rolled his hips into her.
Holy shit. Is that a redwood in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
Her lips parted on a silent
oh
. Okay, she’d definitely gotten a contact high from someone smoking weed nearby. Because she had to be hallucinating her mark’s good looks and raw sensuality.

Michael
shifted, cupping her ass with his free hand. Claire couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips as he hoisted her up as though she weighed nothing and braced her back against the wall. She really had no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist, and when her core brushed up against the erection straining against the fly of his high-priced designer slacks every nerve in her body ignited with awareness. His gaze burned with desire and a lucidity that frightened her. Maybe he wasn’t as high as she’d given him credit for.

So much for being the hunter. Claire had a feeling that she’d just become his prey.

CHAPTER

3

Not human
.
How could she be?
The thought resounded over and again in Michael’s mind as he fought to maintain an ounce of self-control. A vampire had never been tethered by a human as far as he knew. It simply wasn’t possible. And yet his soul burned bright at his center, filling the endless void. He wanted to strip her naked and lay her out on the floor. Run his nose over every inch of her exposed flesh and hold her scent in his lungs before he fucked her. A scrap of memory buffeted his subconscious, not his memory, though it belonged to him just the same. It spurred an instinct that he couldn’t fight: an urge to take this female, sink his fangs into her throat, drink of her, claim her body, and make her his forever. To
turn
her.

Impossible.

And yet he was frozen in place, unable to tear himself away from her. In fact, merely using her and walking away seemed too great a feat. And why would he? Their souls were tethered. It could all be a lie, though. Perhaps the instinct he thought he felt was merely an echo of memory brought on by his recent feeding. It would pass, as would the madness he felt for this
human
. He was kidding himself if he believed she was anything but mundane. Once he took her vein, the spell would be broken.

He lifted her in his arms and pinned her against the wall. She wrapped her long legs around his waist and he rolled into her hips, his cock so hard it ached. His bite would give her pleasure, but perhaps she would want more? He’d like nothing more than to fuck her while he drank from her, and he doubted anyone would notice if he yanked her jeans down around her thighs and took her right here against the wall.

It had been so long since he’d felt the tight warmth of a female’s soft flesh.

Her lips parted as though in a silent moan, and Michael’s stomach clenched with lust. Her eyes were wide, limpid pools of amber and her warm golden hair cascaded over her shoulders in straight, silky sheets. Her skin was delicate porcelain, so refreshing in this city of fake, painted-on tans. He let go of her hip and traced his thumb over a jagged scar on her left temple, just above her brow, and a predatory growl rumbled in his chest. He’d kill whoever deigned to harm her.

She reached up and caught his hand in hers, bringing it to her lips. When the heat of her mouth made contact with his skin, the low rumble intensified, and she smiled.

“I’ve never made a man purr before,” she said in a voice as smooth and rich as fresh cream. “I kind of like it.”

How could a human hear anything over the sound of the music and roar of the crowd? Then again, did he really care? She laid his palm flat against her ribs and guided him down her torso and back to her waist. A slow, secretive smile crept onto her lips as she pulled his hand away from her body, but only for a moment as she slipped it beneath the hem of her shirt. The skin-on-skin contact spurred him past reason and he pressed his body against hers as he seized her mouth in a desperate kiss.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, fisting the locks as she held him tightly to her. Her tongue thrust into his mouth, and if the scent of her could snap his restraint, the sweetness of her lips was enough to send him to the brink of insanity. As though she was as starved for him as he was for her, she slanted her mouth across his, her kisses bordering on violent, as if a lifetime had separated them and she was punishing him for withholding himself from her for so long. In his fervor, one fang nicked her bottom lip and the taste of her blood on his tongue sent him toppling over the ledge of his meager control.

Ah, gods!
He pulled away from her mouth with a lustful snarl, grinding his cock against her sex as he buried his face against her throat. She arched into him, a low moan issuing from her lips as he latched on to her vein and sank his fangs into her flesh.

“Michael!”

She cried out as he pierced her skin, clinging desperately to him as she held his head to her throat. But that was not the name he wanted on her lips, not the Americanized version of his name he’d adopted, but his true name, the name the slayer had stolen the night the bastard tried to put his existence to an end once and for all. Her blood flowed warm and thick into his mouth and Michael held her fast as he took her vein. She was unlike anything he’d ever tasted: sweet and intoxicating. As the frenzy swept him up, Michael shoved his free hand between them, tearing at the button on her jeans and forcing the metal zipper down until he had no choice but to rip the heavy denim to get to what he wanted.

His only thought was of taking her.

A long-forgotten sense of elation swelled in Michael’s chest, his heart thundering for the first time in months. He forced the distraction to the back of his mind. Aware of the eager attention of the dhampirs, they drew on the burst of unparalleled strength this woman had given him. Hell, every last person in the crowded club could have stopped what they were doing to watch him and he wouldn’t have given a fuck-all about it. He cared only for this moment, the human in his arms, and the blood that was like an elixir of life to him.

She whimpered in his embrace and he plunged his hand past the elastic waistband of her underwear. As his fingers found her slick center, she bucked against him, nearly breaking the seal of his mouth on her throat. Gods, but she was ready for him. Her heat enveloped him, her sex nearly dripping and swollen with want. As he drew on her vein, he slid his fingers through her swollen flesh and against the tight knot of nerves at her core. Her hips rolled in time with each pull of his mouth and her legs tightened around his waist. She pushed herself from the wall and her breath was hot in his ear as she moaned, “Don’t stop until I come.”

She’ll come for me now with my mouth at her vein?
His balls grew tight at those desperately whispered words, so close to begging that it tempted him to stop, if only to hear her beg again. The tension in her arms slackened and her head lolled back against the wall. Panic chased the high of feeding and by sheer force of will he disengaged from her throat. Her lids were heavy with passion and her eyes glazed over as though she’d lost focus. Michael cradled her head in his palm as he pierced his own tongue on one fang and laved at the punctures until they closed.

He’d taken too much from her. The slow thrum of her heart echoed in his ears, thready and weak compared to how it had rushed over his tongue while he drank from her. Michael froze with fear. Caught up in his lust for blood and her body, he’d forgotten himself. And now this beautiful woman would pay the price for his carelessness.

“Please, don’t stop.”

She gripped his hand with both of hers and urged him to resume where he had let off. The lazy rhythm of her heart increased in speed, no longer weak but rivaling the heavy bass that reverberated throughout the club. How? He’d drained her almost to the point of death, yet somehow she endured.

“Michael, touch me.”

He slid one finger and then another inside of her, all the while working the swollen bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb. She shuddered against him, gripping his shoulders in her hands until her nails bit into his skin through his shirt. He seized her mouth in a hungry kiss as his own lusts mounted to the point that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could withhold himself from her. Hips thrusting in time with his fingers, he could only imagine how tight and warm she’d be when he buried his cock inside of her. She sobbed her pleasure as he stroked her, and her sex constricted, squeezing tight around his fingers. Her body went rigid and she cried out, her core pulsing around him as she went limp in his arms. A rich, sweet scent bloomed around them, permeating his senses and awakening an instinct that Michael had never experienced before. Again, he was assaulted by the others’ memories, visions of a bond that he couldn’t explain nor had ever known. And still, he recognized it in an instant; as inexplicable as it may have seemed, he was tethered. His soul had found its twin and this human belonged to him.

Her breath heaved in her chest as he planted featherlight kisses to her brow, cheeks, and lips. She uncoiled her legs from around him, sliding to the floor, and he pulled her against his chest, his fist wound in the golden length of her hair.

“We’re not done here,” he growled against her ear. “You’ve had your pleasure; now give me mine.” She had to know that she was his now. How could she think of leaving him? She pulled away and he locked his hand around her upper arm. “Did you not beg for me to touch you? To taste you? Your cries of pleasure were not false. Don’t withhold yourself from me, Amy.”

Her expression darkened as a shadow passed over her bright amber eyes. The briefest flicker of fear crossed her face and it sliced through him with the fiery pain of a silver blade. “Let me go,” she whispered.

She pulled free of his grasp and ducked under his arm before he could take hold of her again. Through the crowd she ran, weaving and ducking this way and that until he lost sight of her. But Michael didn’t need eyes to know the direction in which she’d fled. They were connected by an inexorable bond that she couldn’t escape.

After centuries of pain, the unending torture of his existence, he’d found the only creature who could wake him from his stupor and return his soul to him. Immeasurable strength fueled every movement, and he was no longer the shade of the vampire he’d once been. The world melted away until there was only her. He’d found the one thing he needed to survive in this gods-forsaken world. He took off after her, his speed surprising even to him. It would be nothing to catch her, and once he did, he would never let her go. Her blood was the very essence of life, calling to him in a way that no other had in four centuries of existence. Stranger or not, she belonged to him now, and he would not rest until he tasted her again.

Hands reached out, voices calling out to him, rejoicing. He dodged, unwilling to let the eager dhampirs deter him from what he wanted. If they kept him from the female, he’d rip them apart with his bare hands.