“Keeping the human girl as a snack for your mate?” Siobhan snickered at her own joke, tossing the thick mane of raven hair over her shoulder as she turned to face him. Her emerald eyes sparked with an adversarial edge, though completely devoid of even a glint of silver. No matter how she felt, she was keeping her emotions in check. It was comforting to know she had at least a modicum of self-control. “You must be pleased with yourself, Mikhail. The city is abuzz with rumors. Some say she’s vampire royalty hidden away and protected from Sortiari assassins for centuries. Others think she’s some kind of mythical second coming.” A dark brow arched elegantly over Siobhan’s eye. “You’ve bagged the white stag of vampires, haven’t you?”
There was no use downplaying Claire’s power. Any dhampir living would be able to sense it, and even Siobhan in all of her disdain was benefiting from Claire’s power as well. “And what is your opinion on the matter?” Not that he cared, but he was curious all the same.
She hiked a disinterested shoulder. “I don’t care one way or another about your special snowflake of a mate or how she was turned. In fact, I couldn’t care less if she was the first gods-damned vampire ever created and shat straight out of Egypt’s ass. Your elitist hierarchy means nothing to me. I won’t fall at your feet and beg for the opportunity to lose my soul until some worthless male stumbles along to tether me. Just like I’m not here to make any sort of peace with you tonight. The only reason I agreed to come is because Jenner said you had something to say that I would want to hear. And even though that bastard is dead to me for aligning himself with you, I trust him. So tell me, Mikhail. What is it that you have to tell me? Perhaps you’ve finally decided to reward me for saving you not once but twice in one week?”
She claimed not to care about how Claire had been turned, but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Siobhan might have been able to keep the silver from leaking into her emerald gaze, but her scent soured at the mention of his mate. She couldn’t hide everything from him.
“What is your clan?” Mikhail asked as he took a seat at the desk that separated them.
Her gaze narrowed. “I have no clan. Only a coven.”
She wanted him to believe that the only family she knew was the ragtag group of dhampirs she’d convinced to follow her. Mikhail didn’t buy it. “I fought a Sortiari assassin a week ago.” He leaned back in the chair and planted his arms on the rest, steepling his fingers before him as he spoke. “A berserker warlord that I suspect is Gregor the Black.”
Her scent changed in an instant, the adrenaline that seeped into her bloodstream sending a sulfuric tang into the air. Without uttering a word she’d confirmed Mikhail’s suspicion. “He told you that?”#p#分页标题#e#
Mikhail pursed his lips. “Not exactly.” Though Gregor hadn’t admitted to being the famed highland lord, his expression had spoken volumes.
“And here I thought you were finally going to show your gratitude.” She let out a disgusted snort. “Do not speak to me of this again, Mikhail. I’ll not entertain your fantasies. Likewise, leave me and mine be and I’ll consider a tentative peace between us despite that you’ve cheated me of Ronan’s fealty. The minute I suspect you’re trying to influence any member of my coven, I’ll come after you with a vengeance.”
Like a shot she was out of her chair and stalking toward the door. “Agreed.” Mikhail kept his voice low and even. “But don’t forget what nourishes you and yours when you think to come after me,” he added as she yanked the doors aside in a wide sweep of her arms and strode from the office, the stiletto heels of her boots clicking on the hardwood floor with her passing.
“That went well.” Jenner strode through the open door and stopped short of the desk, folding his massive arms across his chest.
Mikhail snorted. “Better than I expected, actually.”
“What do you think she’ll do now?”
“Hunt the bastard down.”
Jenner smirked. “And in the process lead you straight to him.”
Mikhail flashed a wide smile, showing both sets of fangs. “Exactly.”
“What is it that’s between Siobhan and the berserker?” Jenner asked.
“A history too long and bloody for me to relay in a week of nights,” Mikhail replied. “I should lay the blame of the berserker’s rage at Siobhan’s feet. Or at the very least her sire’s.” A low burst of anger rumbled in Mikhail’s chest. “If you think her nasty streak runs hot, it’s nothing more than a smolder in comparison to the berserker’s rage.”