Mikhail sighed. Resignation. Woot! Claire: two. Vampire: zip. He was probably rolling his eyes and weighing his options. It was too late for him to play coy with her, though. They’d shared a moment of solidarity. Keeping anything from her now would negate that, and Claire was banking on it.
“The less you know, the better. I’m only trying to protect you, Claire.”
“I don’t need protection. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was six and my mom decided that being an addict was more fun than being a parent. What I need is some goddamned information.”
Mikhail flipped his pancake and crossed to the far end of the kitchen. He retrieved a stainless-steel canister that he handed to her. “Coffee.”
Was mind reading a supernatural trait? Claire wondered. Or maybe her vampire just had Sherlockian powers of deduction. Claire paused. Hers? No matter the connection between them, he wasn’t her anything, and she needed to remind herself of that. She filled the mesh basket in the fancy Cuisinart coffeemaker and filled the reservoir with water. It was still hard to believe that she was standing in a house that would probably make Donald Trump green with envy. This place was a burglar’s dream.
“Hey, where is Alex anyway? I don’t want to hurt his feelings, by violating the sacred space of his kitchen and eating food that he didn’t cook, but I got the impression that you wanted him to stick around.” If Mikhail wasn’t going to pony up any more information, could she really stay here in blissful ignorance? No. If she chose to trust him, he’d have to trust her in return. Otherwise there was no point in staying. Though, if she decided to run, she’d feel a hell of a lot better about leaving if she knew Alex wasn’t around to be on the receiving end of Mikhail’s wrath.
“He’s been up all night. I told him to go home. Besides, I’m pretty sure we can manage without him.”
Interesting. Had Mikhail been bluffing when he threatened to hurt Alex if Claire took off? I always follow through … The promise in his earlier words caused a wave of trepidation to roll through her. His eyes shone with heat, locked on hers. A thrum settled low in her abdomen and Claire swore under her breath. With just a look he could banish her anxiety and have her ready to climb him like a tree. “Are you sure about that? Shouldn’t he be the one making coffee and pancakes while dabbing our mouths with napkins, or whatever it is rich people expect of the hired help?”
* * *
So much sass. He liked it. Michael placed two plates of pancakes on the kitchen island along with a bottle of syrup and a dish of butter. He set down forks and a butter knife before taking a seat. “Alex works for me, but I doubt he’ll be dabbing any mouths anytime soon. He’ll be back at sunrise. For the time being, I’m your servant.”
Claire regarded him from beneath lowered lashes, her full lips twitching as she fought a smile. Michael leaned toward her as though his body and not just his soul had been tethered to her. How could he possibly hold himself from her—let her sustain him with nothing more than her blood—when all he could think about was kissing her again? Touching her soft flesh? Gods, he wanted her. Wanted her to be his. Perhaps he could enjoy her company—her body—without the complication of a mate bond. Without sharing his blood with her. He was a selfish enough bastard to consider the possibility of doing just that.
When the coffee was done brewing, Claire brought the pot over and set it on the counter while Michael supplied the cups, sugar, and cream. They both settled down onto their chairs and into their meals.
“The slayers,” she said without making eye contact. “Tell me about them.”#p#分页标题#e#
Likewise, Michael paid way too much attention to his pancakes. “Claire, it’s my intention to ease you into this life. I’m sure the past few hours have been a shock to your system and—”
“Look, the past seventeen years of my life have been sink or swim. I’m not some delicate, fragile flower that you need to shelter. Give it to me straight or you can forget me hanging around, because I’m not going to sit here for god knows how long without any information to back up why I’m safer here than I am at my own apartment.”
Gods, the way she spoke. So unabashed. Her fire only made him want her more. Michael met her gaze knowing that his own reflected silver. She brought out the animal in him as no other ever had, and fighting his impulse to strip her and take her right there on the kitchen counter was akin to fighting his thirst for blood. He was quickly discovering that he couldn’t deny her wishes any more than he could deny his own desire for her. “We call them slayers. They are berserker assassins, brutal beasts bred for killing and sent by the Sortiari to exterminate the vampire race.”