The Last True Vampire (24 page)

“Fuck!” The expletive shot from Ronan’s mouth as he pushed himself from his chair. Too many variables stood in their way, the most important being Claire’s whereabouts. And now he had random attacks to worry about? “Mikhail will need to be notified. We’ll help however we can, but gods, we’re totally unprepared.” It was time to bump up the timetable. Mikhail wanted to wait for his mate to come back to him before Ronan was turned, but they couldn’t wait. “Let’s get moving before there isn’t a gods-damned race to save.”

Jenner levered himself out of the chair and followed Ronan out the door. “I’ll give it to you, Ronan. You’re earning your reward from Mikhail.”

Wasn’t that the fucking truth?

CHAPTER

18

Claire collapsed over the toilet and emptied her guts into the bowl, her stomach heaving again and again until there was nothing left but aching dry heaves that burned her throat and left her raw from the inside out. She felt like death. Worse than death. Like death run over seventeen times by a commuter bus, flipped over, reheated, and then run over again. And she was
tired
. So damned tired she could barely put one foot in front of the other, let alone serve plate after plate of food all day.

She gripped the little plastic stick in her fist so tightly she’d cut off the circulation to her fingers. This wasn’t the stomach flu. And since she hadn’t been able to stomach food for over a week, it wasn’t a tainted batch of ramen noodles, either. No, her ailment was far,
far
more complicated than simple food poisoning. She stared at the red plus sign staring back at her from the little window. It was the fifth stick she’d peed on in the past three days. This wasn’t a false positive, and it wasn’t karma biting her in the ass for telling Lance that she had mono, either.

Pregnant!

The word echoed in her mind as though shouted down a long corridor, ending with a silent finality that left her shaking and on the verge of tears. Since leaving Mikhail’s house twelve days ago, she’d focused all of her energy on blocking whatever connection it was they shared. Anything to keep him from finding her. Bringing her back to him. Because once that happened Claire was certain that she’d never leave his side again.

She belonged to him as surely as he belonged to her.

Even apart, her body vibrated with awareness of him, as though some part of him was embedded within her. The sense of rightness that resonated through her scared Claire more than anything else in her entire messed-up life. Every minute of every day her thoughts wandered to her vampire. The man who was supposed to be hers for all eternity. The man who’d been determined to make sure that she was given that eternity.

Nothing had ever spooked Claire, the unflappable hustler, the way Mikhail had that night after they’d made love. He’d been so full of joy, so positive that she was this Vessel, he’d been prepared to sink his teeth into her throat again and again, draining her of her lifeblood so that he could replenish her with his own and thus turn her into a vampire.

Strong. Powerful. Immortal.

A shudder danced over her skin as she brought her fingers to her throat and felt the slow throb of her pulse. The ecstasy she’d felt the moment he sank his fangs into her flesh was unparalleled. The memory of each deep thrust inside of her, coupled with the strong pull of his mouth, made her inner thighs slick with desire. Claire’s stomach cramped violently and she lurched over the toilet bowl once again. God, how ridiculous was it that she was literally losing her lunch in the midst of a sexual fantasy?

Mikhail might have been convinced that she was this Vessel. In the heat of the moment she had been, too. But now Claire wasn’t so sure. Wouldn’t a human with the capability to survive being turned into a vampire be able to withstand a little morning sickness? Not to mention she’d had the speed and vitality of a tortoise lately. Ever since meeting Mikhail she’d felt a strange draw, and it had only gotten worse over the past several days. If anything, she was below average on the superpower scale.

A wave of nausea hit her and Claire suffered through another bout of dry heaves. She was tempted to force-feed herself a plate of pancakes and guzzle a gallon of water just so her stomach would have something to throw up next time. Mikhail’s vampire sperm must have possessed some seriously supernatural swimmers. Who in the hell got morning sickness a couple of weeks after getting pregnant?

“Claire, you okay?” Lance’s voice accompanied the soft knock on the bathroom door, and she slowly pushed herself up from the floor.

“I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.” She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face after washing her hands. She looked like hell. There wasn’t enough concealer on the planet to hide the dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was so pale it was practically transparent. Just the sort of image people want to see as they’re being served a meal. Good lord. She looked like a patient from some viral apocalypse flick.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Lance was waiting by the door, his arms folded across his chest. “I thought you said you were over the mono.”

“Me too.” Of course her current malady had mono trumped by about a hundred million. “I’m probably just not back to one hundred percent is all.”

“Go home. You can’t be here if you’re still sick, Claire, and you’ve been dragging around for the past week like you’re on your last leg. I’m trying to bring customers in, not send them screaming for the door.”

She let out a tired groan and leaned against the wall for support. “I know. You’re right. But I promise I’m not contagious.” Unless vampire sperm could magically impregnate not just her but anyone who got too close to her. “I can’t afford to miss any more shifts and I’d never come to work if I was sick; you know that. It’s just exhaustion, that’s all.” Rent was due next week and she was already going to be short thanks to her little vacation with Mikhail. “I need to be here.”

“You so much as sneeze and you’re out the door,” Lance warned.

“No sneezes, no coughing, not even a sniffle. I swear.” She couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t have to sprint to the bathroom again, though. Especially if someone came in and ordered the corned-beef hash.
Blech.

“All right.” Lance gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “But I’m switching your morning shift tomorrow with Kerri’s afternoon one so you can sleep in. You look like you could use a little rest.”

God bless him.
“Thanks.” Claire was certain she’d collapse into bed as soon as she got home and sleep until tomorrow afternoon. She’d never known such bone-deep exhaustion.

Lance winked as he headed back toward the kitchen. “Get back to work.”

“Yes, sir.” Claire winked back and took off to check on her tables.

The remainder of her shift passed quickly thanks to a steady stream of customers and the twenty packets of saltines that no longer made her feel like she was going to upchuck her stomach lining. She kept one eye on the door at all times, her nerves getting the better of her every time a man walked in wearing a dark-colored shirt. She’d fled the safety of Mikhail’s fortress of a house, but she wasn’t stupid. Claire knew that it wouldn’t take long for the Sortiari to realize that she was no longer under the vampire’s protection. And when they did they’d come for her. And they wouldn’t play nice.

When she’d grilled Mikhail for information on the secret society that had it out for him and apparently everyone he’d ever met, she’d been less concerned with the foot soldiers and more interested with who was pulling the strings. The puppets had been inconsequential. As a hustler, Claire never bothered with lackeys. If she couldn’t do business with the number one guy—be it to fence something she’d lifted or to play the shill—she didn’t waste her time. She’d needed to understand what these Sortiari were before she could get a bead on their guard dogs. In hindsight, she should have learned everything she could about the slayers. Including their weaknesses. Because if she had another late-night run-in with the freakishly strong black-eyed monsters she doubted she’d come out of it on top.

As Claire busied herself with filling salt and pepper shakers and replenishing ketchup bottles for the next day, her thoughts drifted inevitably to Mikhail. Was he upset? Distraught that she’d left? Angry? Did he miss her with the same bone-deep ache that she felt? Most important, would he find her or had Claire managed to successfully block their connection and mask her whereabouts from him? He’d glutted himself on her blood the last night they’d been together. She could still hear the steady beat of his heart in her ears, feel the gentle pulse against her cheek. He could try to track her now, hunt her down like he had before. And a part of her yearned for it. Hoped against all hope that he’d come and find her once again.

Surely he’d show up eventually. Then again, she’d run out on him when she knew he couldn’t go after her. That sort of morning-after dash tended to send a pretty straightforward message. He could have decided to wash his hands of her. Not to mention that she was doing everything in her power to disrupt the tether that connected his soul to hers. So yeah. Could she really be surprised that he hadn’t shown up ready to whisk her off her feet?

Deep down, she hoped he hadn’t written her off. She just needed some space. Time away to think. But if she went back to him would he insist on turning her? What would he think about the prospect of becoming a father? Maybe vampire baby daddies didn’t like to be strapped down by kids, either. In which case, maybe all of this worrying was moot?

Claire wrapped her arms around her torso tightly, as though trying to hold the halves of her body together. She missed him so much that she hurt. Would it be so awful to let him turn her? To go back to him and beg him to forgive her for leaving?

Would he even want her back or had she burned the one bridge she couldn’t bear to set fire to?

*   *   *

Not since the slayer had left him to die had Mikhail felt such despair. The Collective assaulted his mind, memories that bled into his reality until he couldn’t separate the two. His throat burned with thirst and his heartbeat had begun to slow until he could no longer bear the sound of its strangled rhythm within his chest. He wanted to claw at his flesh, reach through muscle and bone, and rip the damned thing out once and for all.

The pain of losing her was unbearable.

“Five dead. Another twelve wounded.”

Ronan’s words faded to the back of Mikhail’s mind, incomprehensible and inseparable from the memory of a war long since fought and lost. Where was she? Why had she left? He couldn’t feel her presence, not even a hint of where she might be. As when she’d resisted his attempt to compel her, she was somehow blocking the bond created by their tether. It was obvious she didn’t want him to find her, and so for days he hadn’t even tried.

Anger at the way she’d left him welled fresh and hot in his chest. He had neither the time nor the patience for her games. If she wanted to go, fine. Wanted to shun the protection he’d offered, so be it. Mikhail had lived for centuries, survived a slayer’s killing blow and decades at the bottom of a tomb. He would not let her succeed where the others had failed. She would
not
be the end of him.

“Mikhail, did you hear me?”

He raked his hands through his hair as an enraged snarl worked its way up his throat. His fangs punched down from his gums as rage and despair settled on him like a heavy mantle he was helpless to cast off.
Claire … Claire, Claire, Claire …
Her name in his mind attacked his sense of sanity. The memory of her, willing in his arms, was the most unspeakable torture. She’d run away, hidden herself from him, and he had no doubt that somewhere the Sortiari lay in wait, their slayers poised to take her life, and he would be helpless to stop it.

“Mikhail!” Ronan’s shout rang in his ears. “Gods damn it, listen to me. We’re under siege and unless you do something about it we’re all going to die!”

Mikhail gave a violent shake of his head in a hopeless effort to dislodge his lingering thoughts of Claire. His emotional compass swung from north to south. At once he was enraged, vowing never to give her a second thought, and the next moment mourning her loss as though she’d died. He had to face the reality that she was gone. Hidden from him. Her presence no longer burned in his soul; it was nothing more than a pinpoint of light in vast darkness. And there wasn’t anything he could do about it. But standing before him, Ronan and a majority of the dhampir race beseeched him for leadership. He needed to focus on the crisis he could manage instead of the one that was out of his control.

“I’m sorry that Claire is gone.” Mikhail’s back was turned to his friend, but the words were like a slap to his face. “We found her once; we’ll find her again. Perhaps she’s safer on her own. If she’s hidden herself from you, then she’s hidden from them as well. Until we can contain the slayers’ attacks to a manageable level, she’s in less danger the farther away from you she is.” Ronan took a deep breath and threw his shoulders back. “But right now, Mikhail, you have to keep your word to me. Before you’re too gods-damned weak to do the deed. Our people need protection. We need to stand against the guardians of Fate and let them know that we will not be put down like feral dogs. Show your people that you’re deserving of their allegiance.”

It was a speech worthy of any general heading onto the battlefield. One Mikhail had given himself many times over the course of his long life. But without Claire by his side, all of it felt futile. A cause lost before it could ever be saved. She’d given him a gift of strength, however. And to let it go to waste would be blasphemy.

“Tell me more about this Jenner.” Mikhail kept his gaze locked on the garden, shrouded by night but no less vibrant to his gaze. Moonlight glistened in the fountain, the sound of the rushing water as clear to Mikhail’s ears as if he were standing beside the boiling geyser. He’d spent every night near the fountain since Claire had left. Reliving their moments together as his body yearned for more. One night had bound him to her. Eight glorious hours that her body had belonged to him and him alone. He
would
go after her. And when he found her he would do everything in his power to ensure that she never had reason to leave him again.