The Last True Vampire (25 page)

“He’s strong. Fierce. A certifiable badass. He’ll endure the change; I’m sure of it.”

Mikhail wished he shared Ronan’s sunny outlook. “He was one of Siobhan’s?”

“He was, but not anymore. He knows which horse to put his money on.”

Mikhael turned to face Ronan, unable to hide the disdainful sneer that curled his lip. “So you’re saying Jenner has hedged his bets and assumes that swearing fealty to me will not only garner him what he wants, but keep him alive?” He didn’t want or need any male to come to him for the sole purpose of meeting his own selfish agenda. Siobhan was still dhampir and unable to turn anyone. Her power lay in her hatred. Prejudice of any kind was unwelcome in Mikhail’s inner circle. He would never think to turn any dhampir against his will, and yet if Siobhan had it her way Mikhail would be painted as a monster, ravaging his people for the single-minded purpose of banishing their souls.

“What I’m saying, you stubborn pain in the ass, is that Jenner wants what’s best for the race. He wants to put the Sortiari in their place once and for all. And he wants to serve his king.”

“King.” Mikhail let out a derisive snort. “I’ve been laid low by a female. I’m losing my mind. It won’t be long before you’re all blindly following a madman. Is that what you want?”

“I want what you promised me,” Ronan said. “I want you to keep your word. As for your mind, I’m not concerned. Any male without his mate would suffer as you do. Claire doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know this life the way we know it. Give her time. She’ll come around. In fact, I’ll wager she comes back to you before we even have the chance to find her.”

Hopeful, optimistic bastard.
“And if she doesn’t?”

Ronan’s gaze met Mikhail’s and a silent moment passed between them. “She’s the Vessel,” he simply said.

As though Claire’s free will had been taken away simply because she was special. But that wasn’t the case at all. She’d given herself to him freely and not because she was a Vessel. Mikhail refused to believe that their connection was forged as a result of the tethering and nothing else. Something had sparked between them that went beyond simple biology.
Then why did she leave you, you stupid bastard?

“We need Jenner,” Ronan continued. “We’re recruiting by the day, searching the city, putting the word out to all of the thirteen covens. It won’t be long before the candidates are lined up and begging to be turned.”

Mikhail couldn’t do it all on his own. Especially if Claire chose to remain hidden from him. His strength would flag, and until he fed from her again his blood wouldn’t be potent enough to bring other dhampirs through the transition. If he didn’t turn Ronan soon, everything they’d fought for until now would be for naught.

“The Collective will overwhelm you,” Mikhail warned. “If you don’t rein in control, you’ll drown in the memories.” Even now he felt it hard to breathe under the onslaught. “Your senses will become even more acute. Your strength, immeasurable. Your bloodlust will increase by a thousandfold and mastering it will be almost impossible. Are you ready for all of that, Ronan? Are you ready to surrender your soul?”

“I’ve been ready for centuries,” Ronan said with a passion that Mikhail knew all too well. “We all have. Surely you feel the pull, the desperation, of your people. You can’t sustain us all forever. I’m ready to be what our race needs. Let me help to shoulder the burden, Mikhail.”

Mikhail knew of no better male than the one standing before him. Nor one more worthy of the honor of his bite. “Where is Jenner now?” If Ronan underwent the transition, Mikhail would need the service of a capable male. Especially since the Sortiari had grown bold in their attacks on dhampir covens.

“In the kitchen. I had Alex make him a few sandwiches while we talked. It takes a shitload of calories to feed someone as big as him.”

At least Mikhail could always be assured a moment of levity while in Ronan’s company. “Bring him in. I want to talk to him—alone.” Mikhail would be better able to gauge the dhampir’s intentions without Ronan present. Soon, his once quiet house would be bustling with activity as Ronan brought more dhampirs into their fold. Despite the crushing disappointment Mikhail felt at Claire’s absence, there was a spark of hope igniting deep within him. The vampire race would be born again and looking to him for guidance.

It was time for Mikhail to ready himself for war.

He remained standing, too gods-damned on edge to sit for even a second. Ronan returned a few moments later with the dhampir in tow, a male worthy of the title warrior. Hair cut so close to his scalp that it was nearly bald, and covered in archaic tattoos, Jenner projected an aura of intimidation that Mikhail appreciated. Jenner didn’t take a knee, or bow, or anything dramatic like that, but he did incline his head for the barest moment in a show of respect to Mikhail. When Jenner brought his head up silver chased across his dark gaze as he studied Mikhail with open—though not hostile—curiosity. White teeth flashed in a feral smile, the contrast to Jenner’s darker skin giving him the appearance of someone who spent his fair share of time dazzling others under the heat of the California sun.

“You’re not what I expected,” Mikhail admitted. Siobhan had amassed a good company of fighters, there was no doubt.

“I’m not what a lot of people expect.” Beneath his rough exterior there was a charm to Jenner’s personality. Mischief shone in his eyes and in the curve of his grin. Mischief and a fair share of malice as well.

“You’ve left Siobhan’s coven?”

Jenner hiked an unconcerned shoulder. “More or less. Ronan and I agree that she needs to be coddled to a certain extent.”

Siobhan could certainly be an ally. It would just take time to wear her down. Time that Mikhail didn’t think he could spare. “What of the slayers? Have they attacked her coven?”

Jenner’s voice was as gruff as his appearance. “Three times in the past two weeks. Your ascension to power is a thorn in her side. She blames the attacks on you and is using the rhetoric to turn others against you.”

This male was more than sheer brawn. He had a sound mind and a good head on his shoulders. Ronan’s judgment couldn’t be questioned. He certainly knew what he’d been doing when he selected Jenner as the next to be turned. “And what do you think of my ascension, Jenner? Do you share your mistress’s opinion?”

The male’s gaze darkened as a low growl rumbled in his chest. “I do not belong to Siobhan.”

Mikhail cocked a brow. “To whom do you belong, then?”

Jenner’s lip curled. “To no male. And no female. I belong to myself.” Mikhail opened his mouth to respond, but Jenner cut him off. “But I will serve you as my king. Swear my fealty to you for as long as you’ll have it. And should you choose to honor me with your bite, I’ll serve you well.”

“And should I ask you to kill Siobhan…?”

Jenner fixed Mikhail with a narrowed stare. “I would not advise it, but I would carry out the deed, nonetheless.”

“You’ll stay here.” Mikhail turned back toward the garden. “The transition will keep Ronan from service for at least three days. You’ll be my second until his transition is complete.”

“As you say.” The rough tenor of Jenner’s voice did not quaver with even an ounce of doubt.

“Send Ronan in.”

“Yes, my liege.” The title, the very formality with which Jenner spoke to him both unnerved and energized him.
My liege
. Could he be a king worth following?

Silence descended with Jenner’s stealthy retreat. The male would become a formidable vampire. One that would make the Sortiari tremble with fear. The scent of Ronan’s blood indicated his entrance into the room. Mikhail’s thirst burned his throat, and though he’d promised never to drink from another but Claire, it was his vow to Ronan and to the entirety of his race that prompted his actions.

“Jenner said you wanted to see me? How did it go between the two of you?”

Mikhail attacked in a flash of motion, taking Ronan to the floor like any starved predator would. Without a word, Mikhail sank his fangs into his friend’s throat, tearing at the vein to open it fully. He glutted himself on the warm, thick blood until it no longer flowed willingly over his tongue but rather required long, deep draws at the vein to drain it from Ronan’s body. The male’s heartbeat slowed as the male clawed at Mikhail’s arm, his eyes wide with fear.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump. Thump … thump.

Ronan’s heart beat its last as a dhampir, and Mikhail released his jaw from the male’s throat, sinking his fangs into his own wrist to open the vein. Mikhail pressed it to Ronan’s mouth and let the blood trickle down his throat, coaxing him to drink. Soon the sting of his fangs bit into Mikhail’s wrist as Ronan latched on and fed greedily, pull after powerful pull until the myriad voices of the Collective quieted in Mikhail’s mind and he swayed from the rush of power that left him as it fused with Ronan.

The dhampir pulled violently away, a shout of pain bursting from his lips as his back bowed off the floor. Mikhail called for Jenner and he burst through the doors, his brow furrowed at the scene unraveling before him.
“Fuck.”

“Take him upstairs,” Mikhail said through pants of breath. “And stay clear of his fangs. I’ll be up in a moment.”

Jenner didn’t ask a single question, didn’t utter a sound. He simply nodded in acknowledgment and did as instructed.
A fine male indeed.

Mikhail collapsed on the floor, his strength that of a child in comparison to what it was moments ago. He needed Claire. Needed her to replenish him, to give him strength.
Where are you?
his soul called out to hers in desperation as his eyes drifted shut.

The last of the Ancient Ones no longer. That was, if Ronan managed to survive the transition.

CHAPTER

19

Fire raced through Ronan’s veins. Blistering heat scorched his skin and his throat was a raging inferno that no amount of water could quench. Pain radiated through every inch of his body as his muscles seized. His jaw locked down tight and his fangs punctured his bottom lip, the heady scent of his own blood sending him into a frenzy of thirst and lust. Something held him down, bound his wrists and ankles. A familiar panic surged, and he thrashed against the restraints, a low, dangerous hiss issuing from between his teeth.

At the center of his being, a great cavern opened up. Everything he was, everything he had been, rushed into the darkened void, sucked away from him like water down a drain. The emptiness was all consuming, the hollowness more than he could bear. His sense of self evaporated, and try as he might to hold on to that part of himself, it slipped away until there was nothing left but a husk. He was now one of the soulless. Untethered.
Vampire
.

Ronan fought to free his hands: There were few things that enraged him more the being bound. Blood pooled in the seam of his lips and his tongue flicked out as he lapped desperately at his self-inflicted wound.

“Calm yourself, Ronan.” Mikhail’s voice was like a beacon of light in an endless night, calling to him down the length of a tunnel. “If you let yourself succumb to the bloodlust, you’ll go mad.”

He ran through the darkened streets, desperate. The thirst was too much, the transition too violent. He could think of only two things: feeding and fucking, and it didn’t matter which came first as long as he was sated. In the distance, the scent of blood called to him, maddened him. Drove him to a place of need that extinguished reason. Like an animal, he lifted his nose to the air, inhaled the sweet aroma, and changed his course. At the end of a dark alley he found her, huddled, shivering on the cold cobbles, covered with nothing more than a tattered blanket to shield her from the elements.

Her eyes grew wide when she spotted him, and the tang of fear sullied the delicious aroma of her blood. He pounced on her in a blur of motion, his fangs buried in her throat before she could build up a scream. The first gush of blood was a cool salve, banishing the dry heat that licked up his throat. He bit down harder, crushing her windpipe in his powerful jaws, the air choked from her lungs before her heart even had a chance to stop beating—

“No!”

Ronan thrashed, arched his back high, and pulled at his restraints. Eyes wide, he took in his surroundings, his disorientation only heightened by the memories that assaulted his mind. The colors were almost blinding despite the darkness of the room, and every particle of dust in the air created an individual scent that melded into an olfactory overload that both confused and infuriated him. The sounds—louder, sharper, with dimensions he’d never noticed before—buffeted his ears and he wanted nothing more than to clasp his hands over his head to block out the offending noise. He’d thought his senses were keen before … but gods, this was
unbearable
.

“You can feed. But only if you can control your frenzy!”

Mikhail’s voice boomed in Ronan’s ears as he talked to him like he was three years old—or the family pet. “Stop fucking shouting at me.” Ronan’s own voice seemed amplified, roughened by the fire in his throat. “Untie me. Now, damn it.”

“That’s not going to happen. You’re still too volatile.”

He wanted to look Mikhail in the eye, but his own refused to focus, darting from one focal point to another until he became dizzy. His stomach heaved and Ronan swallowed against the dry spasms working in his throat. Fuck, he didn’t even have an ounce of bile to choke up or a bit of saliva to swallow his sickness down.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” The shout burned all the way up his throat as he began to thrash anew. The heat, the sound, the sharpness of
everything,
coupled with the panic caused by his restraints was slowly causing him to unravel.

“Ronan!” Mikhail’s command was white noise in the back of Ronan’s mind. Another wave of memories crested in his consciousness and Ronan was swallowed by the undertow. The room faded away and he was transported into the past, into the memory of an Ancient One, reliving a life that wasn’t his.