The Last True Vampire (42 page)

So much uncertainty.
He wanted to reassure her. To make Claire believe that everything would be all right. “I don’t know, love. But I do know that whatever happens from this day on, we’ll face it together.”

“I could be more trouble than I’m worth, you know.” Claire kissed his temple and his cheek, took his earlobe between her lips, and sucked. “I mean, I am a reformed hustler and pickpocket. And not only that, I can’t even seem to be a proper vampire.”

Her hand wandered down to the fly of his pants and Mikhail swallowed a groan. “You were born to be a vampire.” He cupped her cheek, seized her mouth in a tender kiss. “And with any luck, our son will take after his mother.”

“Oh no.” Claire leaned in, dragged her open mouth over his throat. Her fangs scraped against flesh. “He’s going to take after his father. Brave.” She flicked out with her tongue at his jugular. “Strong.” Gentle suction tugged at his skin and he shuddered in anticipation of her bite. “A force to be reckoned with.” She bit down and Mikhail’s hips bucked as he ground his throbbing erection against her ass.

The bliss of feeding his mate was short-lived, however, as Claire sealed the punctures with her tongue. “That night in my apartment, you said that I would fall in love with you.”

“I did.”

“You were right, Mikhail.”

“Our souls are tethered, love. Irrevocably braided into a single thread.”

A surge of raw energy traveled through their bond from Claire into Mikhail. So much power. He reveled in it. Marveled at the strength of it. Of this female in his arms. For so long his soul had been lost and he had wandered the earth lonely, empty, untethered. But because of the wonderful, beautiful, perfect female he was whole. Complete.

“I love you, Mikhail.” Gold light sparked in her eyes, shining with emotion.

“I will love you always, Claire. Forever.”

And tonight was the first night of an eternity that he would spend proving it to her.

Read on for an excerpt from
Kate Baxter’
s next book

T
HE
W
ARRIOR
V
AMPIRE

Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

The doorknob turned and Ronan made his body go completely slack. He closed his eyes and focused his breathing so it would be deep and even. The hinges creaked as the door edged open, and the near-silent whisper of footfalls on carpet made his stomach coil into a tight knot. He let his senses do recon on the situation as his captor advanced. The footfalls were too light for anyone of substantial size and sounded more like tennis shoes or bare feet than the heavy thud of combat boots, which didn’t rule out Sortiari involvement though he’d yet to see a slayer pad around in bare feet. If he could manage to free himself, he had no doubt he could at least physically overpower his captor. He’d take what he could get at this point. It might be the only factor to swing in his favor.

Ronan took a deep breath and held it for a brief moment. The scent that filled his lungs reminded him of the forest after a heavy rain. Clean. Naturally sweet. It stirred his body into awareness and remaining still became much more of a problem than it had previously been. Gods, that delicious scent. It was driving him out of his fucking mind. He wanted to bury his face in it. Roll around on it. He wanted to
drink
it. Thirst punched at his gut, scoured his throat, and Ronan swallowed against the sensation. How long had it been since he’d fed? His heart still beat, his lungs still functioned, so it couldn’t have been too long ago. But the scent invading his nostrils now made his entire body ache with bloodlust.

The urge to steal a peek was overwhelming. An impulse built inside of him, one that once unleashed, could do some serious damage. And hell yeah, did he want to do some damage. But he’d spent years squashing that impulse, trained too well to act rashly. To fight blindly. He refused to lose control. It didn’t matter if his situation was dire and his existence might very well be in danger. And so, he swallowed down that impulse that was as much a part of him as his own limbs—and waited.

Something cracked in front of his nose a split second before the noxious odor hit him. Too bad he was already conscious, because that smell made him wish he was passed the fuck out. He jerked his head away from the smell and let it loll to one side as if just barely coming to. The sound of a heavy sigh gave him another clue to his captor’s identity: too light and airy to be male. Situation? Too soon to tell, but maybe not
altogether
hostile.

A dazed moan escaped Ronan’s parted lips. His acting skills were killer. The soft staccato of a toe tapping on the carpet broke the silence followed by the sound of liquid being poured into a container—great, now he had to take a piss—as his kidnapper took a long swig of something. The suspense was killing him, and so he cracked one eye, just in time to see a sheet of water splash down on him. He gasped at the icy chill, choking as it splashed up his nose. Yeah,
so
not the wakeup call he wanted.

“Good. You’re awake.” As if she couldn’t stand to waste any of the water, the woman standing over him shook the empty glass, sending a few stray drops onto his face. She seemed a little … pissed.

Ghosts of sensation whooshed through Ronan, filling his chest—his entire body—near to bursting. Emotion, strong and hot, choked the air from his lungs, and the emptiness that had consumed him vanished in the presence of this female who stood above him, her dark eyes flashing with indignant fire.

His back bowed off the bed and Ronan’s teeth clamped down as his secondary fangs punched down from his gums. The thirst that burned in his throat raged. An inferno burning too hot to quench. Desire took him in its grasp, his cock hardening as his need for this female’s body warred with his lust for her blood. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

This unknown female had
tethered
him.

Situation?
Proceed with extreme caution
.

How could this have happened? Though still hazy, Ronan knew that this female was the one from his memory of the previous night. She had returned his soul to him, made him whole in an instant. Whether or not she knew it, this female was
his
. Ronan cocked his head to the side, all thoughts of being bound and held against his will forgotten. Maybe the chains were left over from a wild night with a little light bondage? Doubtful, considering his aversion to being bound. Damn, he wished he could remember. It would take one hell of a woman to convince him to allow himself to be tied up. Then again, would he not do anything for his true mate? He let his gaze roam slowly from her knees up the curve of her slender thighs and well-rounded hips and paused at the swell of her breasts. Her V-neck tee provided the perfect amount of cleavage, and he let his eyes linger for a bit before he met her eyes. They reminded him of onyx, almost black and sparkling despite the meager light. Her skin was deep brown and flawless. Warm. Her mouth … Jesus Christ, her mouth was gorgeous. Full—her bottom lip only slightly fuller—and set in what he assumed was a perpetual pout. Had he kissed that mouth last night? Taken that delicious-looking bottom lip between his teeth? His want of her only intensified with the thought. Had he sunk his fangs into her throat while he fucked her?

Situation?
Maybe not as dire as I’d thought
.

“How do you know my name, vampire?”

Whoever she was, his mate was damned sexy when she tried to appear tough. Interesting question, though. She seemed unfazed by the fact that he was a vampire. This female was no dhampir, though. Nor was she human. Beneath her spring-rain scent, Ronan caught the tang of magic clinging to her skin. It sparked on his tongue like champagne. She was his. The knowledge of it was embedded in his very DNA. But as far as her name … he had no fucking clue. “I’m guessing we didn’t have a wild, drunken one-nighter, then?” he drawled.

He couldn’t help a triumphant smile as his words seemed to infuriate her even more. If he’d thought she was alluring when she was perturbed, she was fucking irresistible when enraged. “Look, why don’t we start by unchaining me, yeah? I’m a lot more cooperative when I’m not tied to a bed and dripping wet.” He quirked a brow at her dubious expression. “You might want to at least try the polite approach first. Flies, honey, and all that. I
am
chained to your bed after all. Before I jump to any”—his gaze drifted to her cleavage one more time—“conclusions about what happened last night, maybe you should fill me in first.”

“Not a chance,” she said flatly. “You answer
me
.”

“Considering I’m the hostage here, and the events of last night have, ah, slipped my mind, I think maybe you ought to go first and tell me what I’m doing here.”

She pulled a dagger from a sheath at her back and touched the point to his left pec, over his heart. The strange blade glowed like a damned canary diamond and practically screamed with energy. A warm tingle radiated from the tip of the blade as powerful magic flowed over his skin. The dagger was hungry for a kill. He didn’t know how, but somehow, he could feel it.

She put pressure on the dagger, as if readying herself to drive the blade home. A thrill rushed through Ronan’s veins that he’d be at her mercy and the scent of her blood blinded him with need. “How ’bout you tell me how you know my name and why you’re in town—
now
—or I’ll run this blade through your heart?”

Situation?
Definitely hostile
.

*   *   *

The song was unlike anything Naya had ever heard before. There was nothing corrupt about it, the notes pitch perfect, and the harmony so beautiful it threatened to bring tears to her eyes. A power resided in the notes, something so intense that it commanded her attention, and at the same time made her want to retreat in fear of that power. This was the song she’d heard calling to her last night, the melody that had robbed her of her senses and stolen her breath.

Naya’s hand shook, the dagger becoming unsteady in her grasp. She’d known the first time she’d heard it last night that the music was too pure for the magic to be stolen goods. After she’d managed to get the bulk of his weight off of her, Naya had been prepared to extinguish the magic and call it a night. But his full lips had parted on a breath, revealing the porcelain points of his dual fangs. Vampires were supposed to be extinct. But there he was, his head resting on her legs, as real and tangible as she was. Curiosity had gotten the better of her. The magic’s song was too pure for her to simply end his life. So she’d dragged him to her safe house and secured him with silver cuffs and chains. If the vampire hadn’t stolen the magic, then how in the hell had he come by it? And why couldn’t she shake the feeling that, somehow, she was meant to find this amazing specimen now at her mercy?

Naya shook herself from her stupor and willed her gaze from the hills and valleys of sculpted muscle beneath the dagger’s point. “Did you not hear me? I said, answer me or I’ll drive this dagger through your heart.”

His calm demeanor scared her more than any shouts or threats might have. The vampire’s brow creased in concentration as if he were trying to hold back a wall of water from a broken dam with nothing but the power of his mind. The way he looked at her was unnerving. Such deep intensity.

“I think a lot clearer when sharp objects aren’t being jabbed into my skin.”

Her eyes darted to his and she was momentarily taken aback by the beauty of them. As vibrant and green as the rain forest. His brows were tawny slashes, made slightly sinister by the look of concentration on his face, and he had the longest lashes she’d ever seen on any male. Plenty of women—including her—would gladly give up a limb to have eyelashes like those. She’d save a fortune in mascara. His cheekbones were sharp and his nose a fine, straight line. His jaw was equally strong, shadowed with stubble. Gods, but he was magnificent.

He cocked his head to the side and studied her with those gorgeous green eyes. “I’m going to assume that your silence means you’re considering my request?”

She eased up on the dagger, pulling it away from his chest. The sound of the magic’s song quieted and, after a moment, grew silent. Naya took a steadying breath as her own body calmed, no longer responding to the magic’s call. All right, so the guy had been a little wound up. She guessed anyone would have been in his situation. “I’m not going to free you,” she said as she took a couple of much-needed steps back. “But I still expect you to answer my questions.”

“Magnanimous, aren’t you?”

A lazy, tantalizing smile stretched across his mouth. So wicked. Naya’s lower abdomen tightened and her fingernails bit into her palms. The vampire was built for sin, every inch of him tight and bulky with corded muscle. A killer, that much was apparent, and she couldn’t help but wonder if his appetite for violence would rival his appetites for other … things. Naya swallowed, forced the lust rising up through her chest back to the soles of her feet. This male was dangerous. He could kill her before she even had a chance to defend herself. No matter how good he looked stretched out and bound to her bed, she couldn’t forget that he was an unknown. And Naya couldn’t afford unknowns.

The vampire sighed in resignation and tried to stretch his arms, wincing with discomfort. Raw, angry burns marred his skin where the silver made contact, but it couldn’t be helped. The silver would weaken him and Naya needed an equalizer until she decided whether or not to alert the elders to the vampire’s presence. “For starters, I don’t know your name, so I’m not going to be able to help you on that one. I’ve never seen you before today.”

Bullshit
. After he’d sacked her like a quarterback, he’d said her name. And that he needed to protect her. A surge of emotion rose up in Naya’s chest. Tenderness toward this male that she couldn’t afford to feel. Protect her from what? Why? Who was he to her? And what did he know that she didn’t? This was
her
town. Anything supernatural went down, and Naya knew about it. The only reason he was here now was because he’d passed out afterward. “You’re lying. You said my name last night.”