The Warrior Vampire (15 page)

The thirst that had dulled to a warm glow in his throat blazed hot and fresh. Marissa—or was it Naomi?—joined her friend as she fondled his balls and Jenner pushed his head back into the pillow, gritting his teeth at the overload of sensation. His fangs pierced his bottom lip and his thirst rose to a frenzy as he was swept up in renewed bloodlust. Despair sliced through his heart as he gave in to his passions, winding his fists in both of the females' hair. This existence was no gift.

It was surely a curse.

*   *   *

“Where is Ronan, Mikhail?”

For all of her hatred and disdain, Siobhan was quickly becoming a permanent fixture in his home. He'd hoped that she would lead him to Gregor, but instead she'd become obsessed with Ronan's whereabouts.

“Contrary to what you might think, I do not keep Ronan on a leash.” Mikhail leaned back in his chair, elbows propped on the armrest and fingers steepled in front of him. “He's free to come and go as he pleases. He asked to take his leave and I granted his request. That is all I know.”

Not exactly true, but he wasn't about to give her any more information than she needed to be privy to.

“I don't believe you.”

Mikhail gave an unconcerned shrug. “I don't care what you believe, Siobhan. You have a coven full of males. Ask one of them to warm your bed.” Her eyes narrowed to emerald slits, confirming Mikhail's suspicions. “He's one of the soulless now, Siobhan. Release him of whatever troth he's made. Once his soul is tethered, he'll no longer be yours no matter what promises he's made.”

She remained silent. Her expression unflinching.

“You can't hide him from me forever, Mikhail.”

Gods, the female was infuriating! He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh of pure frustration. “I'm not hiding him. And if you think Ronan is the sort of male who would tuck tail and run after getting himself in a situation he no longer wished to be in, then you've greatly underestimated him. Likewise, you've underestimated
me
if you think my single focus is to control those I rule to the point of taking away their free will. Cease your stubborn foolishness, Siobhan. Now. We are not enemies.”

Her coven was the largest in the city and possessed the strongest dhampirs. It would be a boon to them all if they could learn to be allies. If she'd put away her prejudices and allow those under her protection to be turned if they so desired.

“Do you still wish to banish the souls of dhampirs and turn them into thirst-driven beasts?”

Dear gods.
The female certainly had a flare for dramatics. “I will offer the transition to those who desire it.”

“Then we
are
enemies.”

Mikhail's temper crested. Blind ignorance and hubris made Siobhan a threat to everything he sought to build. He thrust himself from the chair and brought the palm of his hand down on the desktop with a resounding crack. “Your constant whining and veiled threats grate on my ears. Be gone from my sight and don't darken my door again until you've
come to your senses
!”

As his voice faded into silence, the sliding doors of the study glided open to reveal the shapely form of his mate. A half smile puckered Claire's full lips and her eyes sparked with gold fire. “Everything okay in here?”

She was unflappable. Her control never ceased to astound him. A slight tang of fear wafted from Siobhan, and Mikhail smiled. His mate was indeed formidable. “Fine, love.” The sun would be rising soon and he couldn't wait to take her to bed. “Siobhan was just leaving.”

“All right. I promised Vanessa that I'd take her to school this morning. I'm making pancakes. Do you want some?”

Formidable and
unique
.

Siobhan's green eyes widened and Mikhail answered her astonished expression with a smirk. Unlike any other vampire on the planet, Claire's post-transition physiology shared more traits with dhampirs than vampires. One of those being that she tolerated sunlight.

Siobhan covered her surprise well with a smug pucker of her lips. A dark brow curved in a graceful arch over her eye. “I see you let your mate keep her pet?”

Mikhail bristled at the question. Vanessa's mother was still in a coma, and though she was expected to eventually recover from the head trauma, until then the child was under his and Claire's care. The Sortiari had expressed interest in Vanessa as well, which made her a pawn in a centuries-long power struggle. There was something otherworldly about the child, though Mikhail had yet to discern what. He planned to keep her close until he did, and the fewer who knew about her the better.

“Pancakes sound delicious,” he said without acknowledging Siobhan.

She rose from her chair, but her step faltered as she headed for the door. Claire leaned against the jamb, her arms folded across her chest. A pleasant, though chilling, smile graced her beautiful face as she made no move to get out of Siobhan's way.

Mikhail watched with amusement as the female squared her shoulders, her spine starch stiff as she sidled past Claire, careful not to leave her back exposed. Claire looked at him and winked, an expression that sent the blood racing in his veins as the
click-clack
of Siobhan's stiletto boots echoed on the hardwood floors. He stood still, taking in the sight of his mate until the sound of the front door closing behind her signaled Siobhan's exit.

“Perhaps I should let you conduct business with Siobhan from now on,” Mikhail remarked as he approached Claire. The heady scent of her blood intoxicated him as he took her in his arms and kissed her gently on the mouth. “She's certainly more intimidated by you than she is by me.”

Claire giggled and kissed him back. “Please. It won't be long before I look like I swallowed a basketball. There's
nothing
intimidating about that.”

Mikhail placed his palm over her belly, his fingers splayed wide. “You're lovely,” he murmured close to her ear. “And the most formidable vampire I've ever encountered.”

She nuzzled his throat and the scrape of her tiny fangs against his flesh sent a thrill through Mikhail's veins. “I don't know about formidable.” Her tongue flicked out, bathing him in wet heat. “But I bet I could bring at least one vampire to his knees.”

A rumble of pure lust vibrated in his chest. She could indeed. “Vanessa won't be up for at least another hour. Let me take you to bed.” His hand plunged under her shirt to explore her bare skin. “We'll make pancakes together afterward.”

Claire stiffened in his embrace but didn't pull away. “Jenner isn't back yet.” Her concern warmed Mikhail's heart. That she would be a benevolent queen he had no doubt. “I'm worried about him. The transition's been hard on him.”

Mikhail shared in her worry. It was true that the transition could be difficult for some and perhaps he had not done his due diligence in educating Jenner in what he could expect in his vampiric existence. Needs, hungers, passions intensified. For some, they became harder to suppress, to
satisfy
.

And whereas control could be mastered in a short period of time, Jenner seemed to always be on the brink of his. The male had begun to seek out fights; he searched the city for slayers to kill. His need for blood was unlike anything Mikhail had ever seen, and he suspected that Jenner bedded an excess of females on a nightly basis. But his loyalty was unflagging. His focus laser precise when Mikhail needed it to be. He could find no fault in Jenner save the tenuous hold on his control. Obsessions of any kind were dangerous and more so for vampires due to the intensity of their emotions. Mikhail could only hope that a female tethered Jenner soon. If not, Mikhail worried that Jenner's appetites might overwhelm him. And a vampire with no control was a vampire who would meet a swift and violent death.

“He'll be back by sunrise.” The reassurance felt hollow as Mikhail spoke the words to his mate. “In the meantime, let me take you to bed. I have need of your skin on mine before the sun rises.”

Claire sighed against his throat and he felt her smile. “I can't think of a better way to spend the remainder of the night.”

Neither could Mikhail.

 

CHAPTER

13

“Naya!”

Ronan gave her a gentle shake, but she was down for the count. An icy chill clung to her skin and her warm complexion had gone ashen. Obviously in the grips of something he didn't understand, Naya had taken the brunt of that evil demon's magic and he had no idea how long she'd be out. Jesus, he had no idea how to help her. The sun would be up in less than a half hour and he needed to get them the hell out of there and somewhere safe.

The question was, where in the hell was safe?

Her house was a good thirty minutes away and he couldn't risk being caught unprotected. Gods, he felt so helpless! Had Naya been a vampire, she could have drawn on his power—on Mikhail's and Claire's—to fortify her. Ronan could have fed her from his vein to help her regain her strength. Not knowing what she needed was a dagger to his chest.

A tingle of sensation crawled over his skin with the oncoming dawn. At the edge of the harbor, he caught sight of a stack of metal shipping containers. With her body clutched tight to his chest, Ronan raced along the beach to where they'd first laid eyes on the creature that had tried to kill them. Shreds of curled metal littered the ground, containers torn nearly in half. The odds of finding safe harbor inside one of the containers weren't good considering someone was bound to notice the destruction. Ronan had run out of time and options, however. It was either this or burn to a crisp.

In a matter of minutes Ronan would fall victim to the daytime sleep that would render him virtually unconscious. He took off at a sprint to the far end of the harbor, negotiating hunks of twisted steel that littered the pier. Ronan wound a path to the far back through the rows of containers and chose a container at the top of a stack. Surely any investigation into the vandalized containers would be focused on the ground level.

Naya hung limp in Ronan's arms as he leapt to the top of the stack. He set her down as though she were made of finely spun sugar before dangling himself over the edge. He tugged on the lock secured to the double doors and it gave way with a groan of metal. Once he managed to pull the doors wide, he flipped himself over the edge of the container and landed on his feet inside.

Large crates were stacked from floor to ceiling with only a small row down the center that Ronan's wide shoulders barely fit through. He rearranged the crates as best he could, making a nest of sorts that would accommodate them both. By the time he made it back to the roof of the container to retrieve Naya, the first orange rays of the sun sparkled over the water, breathtakingly beautiful but as pleasant as acid on his skin.

Blisters boiled to the surface of his forearms and the back of his neck as he scooped Naya up. As the sun continued its unhurried ascent, he set her down in the area he'd cleared and pulled the doors closed to secure them both inside. Inky darkness enveloped him and cooled his fevered skin. He'd be healed before the sun set, but he wasn't so sure about his mate.

Her breathing was shallow but even. She'd begun to warm and Ronan took it as a good sign. Exhaustion tugged at his limbs, urged his lids to draw down. Every movement was a slog through neck-deep mud. He settled down on the unyielding steel floor, his back braced against the wall. He adjusted Naya so that she lay cradled against him, her head resting on his chest. She was a fragile, precious thing and Ronan vowed to do everything in his power to protect her.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, his thoughts became hazy. He combed his fingers through the silky strands of her hair, allowing himself to be comforted by the motion. The tether pulled taut between them and Ronan marveled at how close he felt to this female in his arms, though he barely knew her. A fierce sense of possessiveness gripped him and Ronan held her tighter against him. Or was it fear that shook him to his foundation and sent a tremor down his spine? Fear that another male had already claimed her. Wanted her for himself. That someone else would rip her from him, severing his now-restored soul in two.

The bone-deep exhaustion of daylight stole over him and Ronan fell reluctantly toward the death-like sleep that would own him until sundown. He made one last vow as he tumbled toward unconsciousness: No male save him would ever have her. Naya belonged to
him
.

*   *   *

Naya nuzzled closer to the source of warmth that enveloped her. She felt protected. Safe. As though nothing in this world could harm her as long as she stayed right where she was. Never had she known contentment the likes of which she felt right now.

Idly, she rubbed her palm against the contours of a wide chest. Muscles flexed and released beneath her fingers as she traced over the swell of one pec and over a taut nipple. Farther down, she found the ridges of stomach muscles, little dips and valleys that she explored at length. Not a single detail was hidden by the tight black T-shirt. She might as well be caressing bare skin.

Naya kept her eyes closed as she continued her exploration. Gods, she was tired. And still cold as the grave. She sensed that she'd been through hell, but her brain was too logy for a well-rounded thought. Bare skin met hers as Naya's fingers skimmed a forearm that seemed to have been sculpted from marble. She traced her way upward, the crisp hair of his arms tickling the pads of her fingers as she went. Past the bulge of one biceps to the edge of the shirtsleeve she found the wide gash that the creature had cut into his arm.

Naya's eyes flew open on a gasp. Stagnant air and inky dark welcomed her as panic welled hot and thick in her throat. Beyond the absence of sight, what rattled Naya was the absence of music. Of any sound. Her soul was as quiet as the space was dark. And why did that terrify her more than not knowing where she was, how she got there, and what damage she'd sustained in the fight?