The Last True Vampire (22 page)

“Again.”

The command was spoken in a sultry, smoky tone that heated the blood in Mikhail’s veins. He pulled out again, reveling in the satin glide, and pounded into her, hard and deep.

“Ohhhhh.” That sound.
The drawn-out “oh” that ended on a moan spurred him on and Mikhail increased his pace, moving above her in a hard rhythm that left them both breathless and panting. Claire hooked her legs around his thighs, her heels digging into his ass as she tilted her hips upward to give him even deeper access.

Teeth clenched, a satisfied growl vibrated in his chest.
“Mine.”
Guttural. A feral claim of ownership that Claire’s body responded to as her pussy clenched tight around his shaft. He wanted to fuck her senseless, until that hot, tight channel milked him dry.

Her fingers curled around his shoulders, her nails biting into the flesh. “Mine.” She repeated the word with such possessiveness that Mikhail thought it would take little else to bring him release.

This woman was his mate.
His
. She
was
strong enough to receive the gift he would give her. And it was time to take them one step closer to the mating that would bind them together forever.

*   *   *

Claire would have died before using words like “unparalleled passion,” “soul mate,” or “destiny.” But with each passing moment she realized that what was happening between them now was bigger than her. Bigger than both of them. And she was helpless to fight it.

God, the way he made her feel! Without a thought to the fact that she was stretched out on his front lawn, fucking him like some sort of crazed exhibitionist didn’t even register. She wanted to scream. To cry out with each powerful thrust of his hips. To take him deeper, harder. What he gave her wasn’t enough and she didn’t know how to get more. Mikhail overwhelmed her, dominated her, held her in orbit as though he were the sun and she was nothing more than a planet caught in his gravity. She’d lost herself to him and still she wished there were more of herself to give.

There would never be
enough
.

Something was absent from this moment. As he ground his hips into hers again and again a hollowness opened up inside of Claire. A cavern so deep and dark that she despaired of ever finding her way out of it. Instinct tugged at the back of her mind, her senses sharpening, smell, sound, sight, seeming to heighten with each passing second. Something was required of her—of them—in order for their union to be complete.

“Drink from me, Mikhail.” The words left her as though on autopilot. “Take my blood.”

A sound that was purely male rumbled in his chest as he dipped his head to her throat. It’s not like he hadn’t already buried his fangs in her skin, but Claire wanted it—no,
needed
it—again. Now. In this moment while he fucked her. His mouth sealed over her throat and anticipation coiled low in her abdomen, sending a renewed rush of wetness to her core. The sound of their bodies meeting and parting as he increased his pace and intensity only heightened her pleasure, and Claire rolled her head to the side in order to give him full access to the column of her throat.

His mouth was a brand. Fiery heat that seared in the moment before his fangs punctured her skin. Yet another orgasm seized her, this one more intense and gripping than any of the others. Claire lost herself to the sensation, floated away not on a cloud of bliss but a violent storm. One that tossed her on wild waves and broke her apart on the shore of Mikhail’s onslaught. His arms held her tight, his lips sealed over her throat as each pull of his mouth matched the thrust of his cock.

Harder. Faster. Deeper. More
. The words ran a loop in Claire’s mind, but they refused to form on her tongue. Just when her pleasure began to ebb, another wave crested, this one just as powerful as the first. She threw her head back and screamed, a long, loud exclamation of pleasure that left her throat raw and aching. Her hands came around Mikhail’s back and she held his head against her, desperate for him to drink from her, to take every last drop of blood she had to offer. Self-preservation didn’t exist as she began to float away, her limbs heavy and her mind soft and cottony. He could drain her, drink her to the point of death, and yet it was what she wanted. Somehow, she knew that this was supposed to happen.

Mikhail pulled away from her neck with a shout that echoed off the high Hollywood Hills. His body went rigid and Claire writhed beneath him as his cock jerked inside of her and filled her with a decadent heat that left her weak, shaking, breathless. And wanting
more
.

A trickle of fear entered her bloodstream as Mikhail’s thrusts became shallow and gentle. She’d never been possessed with such mindless lust for a man before. Had never gone to that place where nothing—not life, death, or anything else—mattered but
him
.

Something had happened in that moment between his teeth sinking into her throat and the moment he came inside of her. As though some cosmic force had fused them together, welded their halves into an inseparable whole. Was this the tether? Had her soul finally recognized his?

“What is it, Claire?” Mikhail’s voice floated to her ears with feather softness, a slow caress that caused chills to dance over her flesh. “Why are you frightened?”

“How do you know?” He stroked her hair with gentle care, braced up on one arm as he studied her. Still seated deep inside of her, Mikhail gave a shallow roll of his hips, and she let out a slow sigh, the gentle motion rekindling her desire.

“Your scent. The tang of your fear sours the sweetness of your pleasure.”

“The way you talk”—she let out a nervous laugh—“it makes my stomach do backflips.” His brow furrowed as though he couldn’t decide whether her statement was meant as a compliment or not. “I like it, Mikhail.” His body relaxed and she sensed that she’d reassured him.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re afraid.” He kissed a lazy path down her throat and she sighed as the heat of his tongue laved at the puncture wounds he’d made with his fangs. The roll of his hips increased in pace and pressure and Claire opened up to him, her body responding and ready for more.

“I’m afraid of what I feel.” Her back arched off the cool grass as she came up to meet him in a slow, sensual kiss. “I’ve never experienced anything like what just happened between us.” Another kiss, this one deeper as her tongue slid against his. “It’s scary.”

“This is just the beginning.” Mikhail rolled onto his back, his dark features enveloped by the shadows. His blue-green eyes flashed with silver as he settled Claire on his lap and took her hips in his strong hands. In the shadows, his features sharpened, making him look like the predator he was. His hawkish gaze pinned her and for a moment everything but him melted into darkness. “Each time we couple, the mating bond will intensify. Soon I will nourish you, give you my blood, and your transformation will be complete. You’ll be able to sense my emotions. You’ll feel my presence even from the distance of many miles. You are a Vessel, Claire. I believe it now.”

A ripple of trepidation raced through her and Claire shoved her worry to the back of her mind. Now that she knew he was so in tune to what she felt, she’d have to be careful to guard her heart—as well as her mind. He was so confident. So sure that the course they found themselves on was the right one. Claire wished she could share in that optimism. But she knew better.

Mikhail levered himself up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body down hard on top of him. Claire gasped at the shock of sensation, a renewed rush of wetness spreading between her thighs. She might have been unsure, but of one thing she was certain: Her body craved his like a drug and once would never be enough.

She rode him with abandon, letting her head fall back on her shoulders. A strong fist wound in her hair and tugged to expose her throat to him. Her limbs were heavy, her mind slow to react. Claire was drunk on Mikhail, intoxicated by his body, his heady words, the thick length of his erection that stretched and filled her completely.

As though of their own volition, her arms snaked around him, her nails biting into his shoulders. He let out a slow hiss, his hips bucking as he fucked her with abandon. Her breasts bounced against him, his chest teasing her nipples into stiff, aching points.

“I’m going to fuck you until the sun rises.” His breath was hot in her ear, his voice a low rumble that ignited a fire inside of her. “Bury my face between your thighs and lap idly at your pussy until I’ve had my fill.”

Holy shit.
No one had ever said such dirty, wanton things to her. Flushed with heat, need, a hunger that she didn’t understand, Claire ground her hips against his, drawing him in as deep as she could.

“I’m going to take your vein.” His voice rasped in her ear. “Over and again. Glut myself on the sweet nectar of your blood. Your voice will be ragged from your screams and you will come for me, Claire. For me alone. No other male. For eternity.”

As though he sensed the orgasm about to seize her, Mikhail buried his face in her throat and bit down. A cold rush, like someone had shot her up with some grade-A shit, zinged through her veins and Claire sobbed her pleasure, each cresting wave more powerful than the last. He let go of her and braced his arms behind him, using the ground as leverage as he pounded into her, almost violently, until a shout tore from his throat and she was flooded with warmth as he came deep inside of her.

She was light-headed and dizzy, the world careening around her in a drunken haze that left her feeling a little too giddy. Mikhail’s tongue passed over her throat and he nuzzled into her. “You are mine, Claire,” he said through ragged pants of breath. “From this moment until the gods decide otherwise.”

She swallowed down the fear that welled up fresh inside of her.
Holy crap, Claire. What have you gotten yourself into?

*   *   *

Mikhail had tucked her into bed just before sunrise. He slept peacefully beside her, the slumber of the undead, she supposed. Claire had learned something about Mikhail Aristov over the course of the night: He kept his promises.

He’d made love to her for
hours
. He’d spent that idle time between her legs, lazy passes of his tongue that sent her into a state of ecstasy so intense that she’d sworn she was having an out-of-body experience. He’d made love to her slowly and gently. Fucked her hard and with a rough edge that excited her and made her beg him for more. He’d taken the vein at her throat, her thigh, and her wrist, greedily devoured her until Claire once again reached that point where she was more than willing to offer up her life to him. Only to have him pull away and lave her wounds once the high of their orgasms ebbed.

Mikhail had made many,
many
promises to her tonight. One of them being that he’d turn her before the week was out.

A vampire by Friday
. She snorted.
Sounds like the name of a hot new band.

She’d barely dipped a toe past the surface of his world and now he wanted her to jump right into the deep end, headfirst. To Mikhail, there was no longer a question. No more doubts. He was convinced she would survive the transition. She belonged to him, and in order for her to truly be his she had to become a vampire. He didn’t even ask her opinion on the matter, just made the proclamation. Ronan had called Mikhail a king. And not for the first time, Claire recognized that regal high-handedness in him. There was only one option: Obey.

She didn’t know if she was ready for this life.

For days she’d been shut up in this house, closed off to the world after dawn, living in a sunless state and only allowed to see the world through night’s cloak. She missed her job, interacting with other people. Hell, she even missed her sore feet and achy back at the end of the day. She missed Vanessa. Was she okay? Eating? How was school going? Was her mother even
trying
to stay sober?

Panic surged in Claire’s chest. She threw the covers from her body and launched herself from the bed. Her breath raced in her chest and her heart beat so frantically, she thought it might burst through her rib cage at any second. “Jesus Christ.” Barely a whisper and yet as good as a shout when keeping company with creatures like Mikhail. He stirred in the bed, the blankets falling away to reveal the muscled perfection of his chest. Her panic ebbed by small degrees and Claire tiptoed to his side of the bed and stood over him, her curiosity piqued when her gaze landed on a star-shaped scar that puckered the skin above his heart. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, so blinded by her passion.

She reached out and traced the rough edge of skin. His brow furrowed in sleep and his lip curled into a feral snarl. The man sleeping before her was as much a wild animal as a tiger roaming the jungle. Just because he looked domesticated didn’t mean he was tame. No, he was a killer, ruthless and fierce. He took what he wanted without apology. And he’d made it quite plainly known that he wanted her. For eternity.

Eternity!

Another bout of hyperventilation overcame her and Claire leaned over, putting her head between her knees. It was impossible to think clearly when he was near. His presence commanded her attention, drew her to him. When he was in the room—
hell, just in the house
—Claire felt his presence so acutely that he might as well have been under her skin. How could she possibly make a logical decision when she already felt fused to the man lying still as death beneath her touch?

I have to get out of here
.

It was all too much. She didn’t trust her mind, her feelings. She didn’t trust herself to make a rational decision when he put his hands on her. His mouth … Claire shivered at the memory of his touch and found that she was leaning toward him, reaching out as though helplessly drawn to do so. She’d give him anything he asked without thinking twice about it. So much for the street-smart, savvy hustler. All it took to bring her down was one gorgeous, commanding vampire.

Go figure.