Bingo.
Dressed in sleek black slacks and a dress shirt that probably cost more than a couple of months of Claire’s rent. Swaying on his feet as though he could barely keep himself upright, he looked as out of place with the nouveau-raver crowd as she did. He stood about a foot taller than the tallest guys there and made Steve’s sculpted body look puny in comparison. He wasn’t there for the music. He was at Diablo because this was an “it” place and he was an “it” guy. She’d have to get a little closer to properly assess him, but that wouldn’t be a problem. If her initial impression was correct, whatever she managed to lift from this guy would feed her for a few months. Hell, maybe she’d spring for the name-brand mayo this time.#p#分页标题#e#
“So, do you maybe wanna get out of here and grab a bite to eat?” Steve looked at her expectantly, setting his own drink on the bar as though positive he was about to score.
“Sorry, but no. Thanks again for the drink, Stevie!” Claire shouted over the music as she headed toward the VIP room.
“It’s Steve!” he called after her.
She lifted her hand in acknowledgment but didn’t turn around. It was time to hunt.
CHAPTER
2
Murmured voices followed Michael through the club, so much louder than the music or the roar of the crowd. He pushed the myriad sounds to the back of his mind, refusing to let the assault of sensory overload further disable him. Eyes tracked him, flashing silver in the darkness, keen and curious. He kept his distance from most dhampirs, and in turn they regarded him with the wariness of a pack in the presence of their alpha. Their draw on his meager energy stores caused his step to falter as he pushed through the crowds to the VIP lounge. His self-inflicted starvation punished them all. In his untethered state, he couldn’t be bothered to care.
Michael was an Ancient One. The last of the true vampires. Dhampirs were a product of birth. The only way for a dhampir to become a vampire was to drain the body of blood and replenish it by taking the vein of a vampire. Due to the fact that he was untethered—his soul lost to oblivion until he found his mate—Michael didn’t have the strength to turn any of them. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one condemned to a state of inertia.
Every vampire had been descended from a single creature. Like a grove of aspen trees were interconnected, the blood that created them tied them to one another. And there was just enough of that ancient blood flowing through every dhampir’s veins to connect them all to Michael. Fate could indeed be a cruel master at times.
In the two and a half centuries since the vampires had been all but exterminated, class divisions separated the dhampir covens, pitting them against one another. Some wanted Michael gone from the face of the earth while others waited eagerly for him to step up and fully claim his role as their leader. They craved the gift he could give them, the bite that would transform them from beings that lived between the human and vampire realms into the creatures they were meant to be.
Without being tethered, he was helpless to do anything for them.
Michael’s own raging thirst was paltry in comparison to that of the collective mass of dhampirs in the vicinity. Many of them were in the club now, watching, waiting to share in his strength. They saw a savior, while Michael saw himself as nothing more than a soulless creature destined to fall through time in a state of perpetual emptiness. Perhaps that was why he’d persisted in this state of near starvation for the past century. To punish himself for his inability to save his brethren now as well as when the Sortiari had begun their quest to exterminate the vampires centuries ago.
“Hi. Alex sent me. Mind if I join you?”
He looked up to find a woman gazing down at him and once again Michael was reminded why he paid Alex such a hefty salary. He opened his palm in greeting. “Please. Sit.”
She smiled seductively and her too-white, veneered teeth were the perfect horrid complement to her collagen-injected lips and unnaturally large breasts. Why would any woman want to defile the soft curves she came by naturally by replacing them with something unyielding and artificial? No matter. He didn’t want to fuck the human after all, just feed from her. And whereas her appearance did little for his lust, the scent of her blood set his throat ablaze.
Bide your time. If he didn’t get a grip, he’d tear into the woman’s throat. “Can I buy you a drink?” It was the least he could do. After all, she was about to supply him with one. “Champagne?” Wasn’t that what humans wanted in these ridiculously overpriced clubs? He motioned to one of the waitresses who serviced the VIP room, appropriately outfitted with devil horns and a long red tail that seemed to grow from the back of her short black skirt. Michael reached into his pocket and produced a matte black credit card from his wallet and handed it to the waitress. “Bring us a bottle of Clos d’Ambonnay.”#p#分页标题#e#