Ronan stroked the aged and worn leather that covered the codex. With any luck, the answers to all of their problems lay within the pages.
CHAPTER
12
Claire stared at the empty hallway that Mikhail—she refused to think of him as Michael anymore—had passed down, a hole the size of Texas opening up inside of her. She felt his absence so acutely, as if some vital part of her was missing. A phantom pain from a limb no longer intact. And it bothered the holy living crap out of her. His rejection still stung, embarrassment a bitter pill to swallow after she’d all but tackled him only to have him pull away. If he didn’t want her, what was the point in keeping her there? Surely the other man, Ronan, would keep Mikhail from doing anything dire to Alex if she chose to bolt. Could she do it? Despite the connection that she felt, could she leave him?
Good hustlers weren’t stupid. The best con artists never made a move without gathering as much intel as possible when working an angle. And Claire wasn’t willing to do anything until she knew everything she needed to. That priest had tried to kill her tonight. And he wasn’t any more human than Mikhail was. Where was she safer? Here, with a man—no, a vampire—she barely knew, or out there on her own? For the first time in a long time, Claire feared the prospect of going it alone.#p#分页标题#e#
Let the mark think he’s in charge. Mikhail was reluctant to talk, but she could loosen him up. She put her own hurt on the back burner and dragged her gaze from that empty spot, instead turning her attention to the rumble of protest coming from her gut. If Claire had learned anything over the course of her life, it was that any obstacle could be surmounted as long as you had a full stomach.
“I’m cooking!” she announced to no one, hoping that Mikhail’s temper would cool and he’d come back to join her. He’d yet to give her any answers that weren’t monosyllabic, and she wasn’t going to make a decision about leaving until she had more information. “Pancakes sound good.” Four a.m. was totally a breakfast hour. Pushing herself from the couch, she wandered through the living room and down a hallway in search of the kitchen. “And coffee. Lots of coffee.”
Even after being there most of the night, Claire was still baffled by the sheer size of the house. The kitchen was bigger than the entire diner, stocked with high-end appliances that had to cost more than she made in a year. Hell, the formal dining room alone was set up to accommodate thirty or so people and Claire doubted that Mikhail had ever sat at the mahogany length one time, let alone entertained a roomful of dinner guests. Such a waste of money. She hopped up on the counter to snatch a fancy stainless-steel fry pan from a pot rack hanging above the island and set it on the stovetop.
“Don’t let Alex catch you using his Demeyere pans,” Mikhail remarked as he strode into the kitchen. His expression was pinched, his brows drawn over his bright eyes, his lips a hard line. “He thinks he’s the king of this castle. He doesn’t even let me use those.”
Claire chuckled. Though Mikhail’s expression was still pretty fierce, she sensed that his temper had cooled somewhat. She was totally the mistress of manipulation. Maybe she hadn’t lost her touch for the con after all. “Noted.” She continued to root around the kitchen, digging through cupboards. In a few short strides he was beside her, opening cupboards, gathering up bowls, utensils, flour, milk, and eggs. Had she managed to tame the savage beast with the prospect of pancakes? Point: Claire.
She kept her smug satisfaction hidden as she peeked into the clear glass doors of the humongous refrigerator, stunned at the amount of food inside. “You wouldn’t figure a vampire’s fridge to be so well stocked.”
Mikhail flashed a reluctant smile. His dual sets of fangs were more pronounced in relation to his other teeth. “And what do you know of a vampire’s eating habits, my little human?”
Claire’s stomach clenched at the word “my.” She’d never been anyone’s anything before. “Not much thanks to you.” Aside from Mikhail attacking her like he was a starving man and she was a cheeseburger and then setting her aside like she’d ruined his diet, he worked the mysterious, cryptic I’ll tell you as much as you need to know angle well. “I’ve got to say, I’m still not wrapping my head around any of it. Seriously. Vampires?”
“I am the last of the Ancient Ones.” His voice was low and somber as Mikhail whisked a couple of eggs and added them to the flour and other dry ingredients he’d put in a clear glass bowl. “The last true vampire. The rest are only dhampirs, waiting to be turned.”