The Last True Vampire(31)

“She is strong enough,” he said to the council of vampires seated before him. “I beg you, allow me to turn her.”

“It is forbidden.” That bastard Alexei Aristov looked at him with cruel disdain. As the ruler of the entire Russian territory and its many covens, Aristov spoke for the council and his word was law. “She is not your mate, nor could she be. You cannot be tethered by a human. It’s impossible and you are mistaken. She will not survive the transformation. Keep her as your lover if you must. But that is as far as you are permitted to go. Enjoy the human’s body. Drink of her blood. But do not seek to turn her. If you act against the mandate of this council, the punishment is death.”

Michael gasped as though coming up for air after being too long under the water. He’d seen his father’s face through the vampire’s memories, stern, proud. Another collage of images assaulted Michael, and his breath stalled as he was plunged under the surface again.

The female went limp in his arms, her flesh so pale and cold that for a moment he was afraid he’d killed her. He’d drained her to the precipice of death, but he’d prove those fools wrong. The council didn’t know his mate like he did. She was strong enough. She would survive. He scored his wrist with one sharp fang and pressed the wound to his lover’s mouth. When the crimson drops ceased to flow, he scored his wrist again, forcing her to take his blood. At first she didn’t respond and his heart beat a frantic rhythm as fear took hold. But soon she roused, sealing her lips around the wound as she took deep pulls. Her hands came up to hold his wrist as she drank, and the flat edges of her teeth broke the skin as the frenzy of feeding took hold.

Elation soared in his chest. He knew she’d survive. Knew it. She was his.

Hope turned to terror as she pulled violently away, thrashing in his embrace. She broke free, tearing at her hair and pulling long tufts from her scalp in a bloodied mass. Silver flashed in her pupils, and dainty fangs protruded from her gums. But the soul of the female he loved was gone and, likewise, the string that tied them together, tethered his soul to his body, was cut. In her wild, empty gaze he sensed nothing but a mindless creature writhing in pain.

A violent scream ripped from her throat. Tears streamed down her once-flushed cheeks. Her back bowed off the ground and with the sound of her spine snapping from the strain he swore that her pain was his own. Bruises appeared on her pale arms, her legs and torso, across her jawline, and over her shoulders as her body rejected the blood he’d given her. Her scream pierced the night air, echoing eerily into silence as her body stilled before him.

Blood trickled from her nose, her delicate ears, and her beautiful eyes like crimson tears. Her mouth was frozen in a silent cry that at once destroyed him. “No!” he shouted as he threw his body over hers as though to protect her from what had already taken her from him. “Collette!” He cradled her in his arms, rocking her. “Collette, don’t leave me.”

But it was past the time for beseeching words. Impossible to reverse the damage he’d done. He should have heeded the council’s words and now it was too late.

His love was dead at his own hand.

An agonized roar burst from Michael’s chest, the pain of the vampire’s memory so real he might as well have killed the woman himself. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley beside them and rattled the windows of a nearby retail space. Was this the fate that awaited him? To live without truly claiming his mate or run the risk of killing her in the process of turning her?

“Mikhail?” Ronan jumped out of the car and raced to Michael, his gaze fearful.

Michael looked up to find Claire stretched across the seat. A deep crease marred her smooth brow and her golden eyes shone with concern. Gods, the emotion etched on her face was enough to lay him low.#p#分页标题#e#

As well it should. “I’m fine.” He held up a staying hand and pushed himself to stand. A despair unlike anything he’d ever felt before ripped through him, shredding his composure.

“Are you sure? Mikhail”—Ronan’s voice dropped for his ears alone—“you should feed.”

“No. We need to leave. Now.” He slid into the seat beside Claire, who continued to study him quietly. Not even the annihilation of his race had affected him so deeply. This had become a suicide mission. How could he deny his own instinct, his own mating drive? The taking and giving of blood was essential to solidifying the mate bond, and yet, if the memories he’d witnessed were correct, she could never drink of him. Being with her while restraining himself from claiming her would kill him as surely as doing so would kill her.