Ronan gave Michael a last searching look before he settled in behind the wheel. “All right, we’re out of here,” he said as he pulled out onto the street.
Michael couldn’t allow himself to form an attachment to this female. Not after what he’d just witnessed in the dead vampire’s memory. Perhaps it was for the best that she’d resisted him. He could take her blood, let her life essence feed his power and nothing more if she despised him. Her hatred would keep him from doing something he would surely regret.
Wind rushed through an open window beside him, and by the time Michael could react the female was already hanging over the door, the top half of her body dangling over the street rushing by beneath her. Ronan chanced a glance back and the car swerved. “Shit!” He jerked the wheel and they lurched back into their lane.
Michael hooked his finger through her belt loop before she toppled headfirst out of the car. He jerked her back inside, none too gently pulling her against his body, and she shot him a glare that should have melted the flesh from his bones. “You didn’t think to lock the windows, Ronan?”
He gave Michael an apologetic shrug. “I didn’t think she’d actually try to jump.”
Obviously this female didn’t want for courage. An admirable trait but no less annoying considering their situation. “I told you the consequences would be dire if you tried to harm yourself. Would you test me, female?”
“I told you not to call me that.” In the dark interior of the car, her eyes sparked with golden fire, her cheeks flushed with anger. Michael’s body responded, and he cursed his weakness. How could he possibly keep her at arm’s length when he craved her body as much as he craved her blood?
“What should I call you, then?”
She bucked her chin. “Don’t call me anything, Mikhail.”
From the driver’s seat Ronan gave an amused snort.
Her use of Michael’s given name rang with accusation, and yet he yearned to hear it spoken from her lips again. “Until you give me a name by which to address you, I will call you female.”
“Then call me Amy.”
Michael turned and faced forward once again. “No. Since you’ve already admitted that’s not your true name, I will not call you Amy.”
“Sort of hypocritical for a guy who told me his name was Michael.”
Ronan turned and cut him a look as if to say, “Well, she has a point.” “Michael is the Americanized version of my name. Hardly a lie.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “Hardly the truth, either.”
What should have been a relatively quick drive to the outskirts of the city became a long, winding path as Ronan traversed side streets and back roads, doubling back toward the south end of the city before merging with the heavily trafficked main streets. “I think we’ve covered our tracks well enough.” Ronan shifted into a higher gear as he wove a path through the throng of late-night traffic. “Time to get the hell out of Dodge.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Tell me, female, how did the slayer find you?” Despite Ronan’s confidence, Michael kept a vigilant eye on the surrounding vehicles, expecting an attack at any moment. The Collective still weighed on his mind and his strength was flagging. Ronan was right. Michael would need to feed soon and he wouldn’t feel completely safe until they were back home.
“Slayer?” She repeated the word as though it were foreign. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A slow, resigned sigh escaped her chest. “And my name is Claire.”
* * *
At this point, what would it matter if they knew her real name? Besides, if he called her female one more time she was going to go ballistic. Claire had met some charmers in her life, but Michael took the cake. The bossy attitude he was sporting was just a notch above caveman. Totally unattractive.
So why did her body hum like a tuning fork at the dark, commanding tenor of his voice? Why had she been so worried when he’d collapsed to the ground, his head cradled in his large palms? And why—despite her trepidation—did she know that Michael would die before he let any harm come to her?
“The slayer that attacked you. How did he find you?”
As if adding a couple of extra words would make any of this easier for Claire to comprehend. “The priest? He came into the diner earlier tonight. And I don’t know how he found me.” She’d abandoned her theory that the priest was another hustler trying to scare her away from his property. Now she was leaning toward some sort of Mafia war. Obviously the priest had seen her with Michael at Diablo and thought they were a lot closer than they really were. The mistake wouldn’t have been too tough to make considering the fact she’d been wrapped around him like a second skin. “Whoever the guy was, he was fucking nuts.”