The Last True Vampire(27)

“Protect her, Ronan.” As the slayer lunged, Michael spun away, handing his mate into Ronan’s capable arms. The dagger glinted in a flash of silver and caught Michael high on his biceps, searing his flesh as the blade cut through his shirt and grazed his skin.

The Sortiari had done their due diligence, training their berserkers and creating fine-tuned killing machines. With inhuman speed the slayer struck out again, this time catching Michael in the torso. He hissed in a sharp breath, forced the pain to the back of his mind as he pulled his daggers from their sheaths. No longer on the defensive, Michael lashed out, cutting and stabbing, his movements a blur as he sent the slayer into retreat.

With each swing of his arms Michael felt invigorated, every connection with his enemy’s body a thrill that spread through him like wildfire. The slayer was fast, every action precise. Well trained and as deadly an opponent as ever Michael had faced; but he refused to let the slayer win. They’d failed to kill him two centuries ago; it wouldn’t happen now. He blocked a downward cut of the dagger, and the slayer used the opportunity to come at him from the left, grasping the silver-tipped stake tightly. Michael kicked out, catching his attacker in the gut, and the slayer flew backward, landing on the pavement with a crunch of broken bones.

Still the bastard came at Michael with no outward expression that he felt an ounce of pain. In the grip of battle lust, a berserker was nearly invincible. They healed almost instantly from their injuries. Bred for war, they were killing machines. Perfect assassins.

The slayer moved as though through time, his speed astounding even to Michael. In the blink of an eye the slayer was beside him and a white hot-bolt of pain shot from his shoulder, down his left arm as the silver blade sank into his flesh. His hand went numb, his fingers releasing their grip, and one dagger fell to the pavement with a ring of metal.

Michael went down on a knee and behind him Claire cried out, the sound of her distress cutting him deeper than any Sortiari blade. The slayer brought his left arm up, the stake held high as he said, “We are Fate.” He struck with a quick downward stab and froze, the stake poised just above Michael’s chest.

The slayer’s dark eyes stared, disbelieving as his voice gurgled in his throat. Blood welled from his mouth as Michael sank the other blade into his enemy’s flesh, tearing through skin, sinew, and tendon. Michael opened the slayer’s throat in a forceful jerk, and dark crimson spilled from the wound, over the black fabric of his priest’s façade.

Blood had indeed flooded the streets tonight, but it wasn’t Michael’s mate’s. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he let the slayer fall to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The sounds of a struggle drew Michael’s attention. He whipped around to see his frantic female kicking and fighting against Ronan, desperate to free herself from the man’s hold.

“Let me go, asshole!”

“Mikhail? A little help here?”

Ronan looked as shocked as the slayer had over the course of events. He held on to the female, barely registering her struggles or cries. Her eyes were wide with fear and the frantic beat of her heart, the blood rushing through her veins, echoed in Michael’s ears. “Be calm,” he said as he approached her. The slayer’s blood stained Michael’s hands and shirt, no doubt making him look like a monster. He retrieved his fallen dagger from the ground and sheathed them both. Mercy was not afforded to slayers. Neither was an honorable death.

“Don’t touch me. Get away from me!”

Her chest rose and fell with her quickened breath, and despite Ronan’s hold on her, she swayed on her feet.#p#分页标题#e#

“Amy—”

“That’snotmyname!” The words were strung together, little more than a frantic blubber. “Let. Me. Go!” She kicked at Ronan once again and managed to free herself from his grasp. She tripped on her own feet, sprawling face-first onto the unyielding sidewalk. A snarl built in Michael’s chest that she’d take so little care with herself. She scrambled away, clawing up to her feet only to stumble again as she fell back against the brick of the building behind her.

“Y-you killed that man!”

Stating the obvious must have been a human defense mechanism. Something to help her reconcile what she’d just witnessed. Her distress caused Michael pain, but until she allowed him to comfort her, to reassure her of her safety, there was nothing he could do to assuage her fears. “He intended to kill you. I will not suffer any creature to live that means to do you harm.”