He swept her hair away from her shoulder and she shivered when his fingertips brushed where her shoulder met her neck. His breath was warm as his lips hovered near her ear. “I was born in Kiev in the year 1622. My father was a warrior and a king; my mother came from an Irish coven and was a princess in her own right. I was raised to fight alongside my father. To beat back the slayers who sought to wipe us from the face of the earth. I fought, fed, fucked my way through centuries of existence. I took a female as my consort and we lived in relative content. I didn’t trouble myself with mates or bonds. I cared little for the return of my soul. My only concern was the obliteration of my enemies. In turn, my enemies obliterated everything I knew. And now I am the last of the Ancient Ones and the entirety of my race’s collective memories lives within me.”
Truth. It rang through her with the clarity of a church bell. A low rumble vibrated in Mikhail’s chest, a contented purr that turned Claire’s bones to mush. “Who was the woman?” Jealousy flared hot in her veins, but why? She couldn’t understand the sharp pang any more than she could the inexplicable connection she felt to the man sitting behind her.#p#分页标题#e#
“Ilya. Daughter of Viktor Delov. He was the warlord of our coven.”
Claire let her fingers drift through the water, back and forth, back and forth. Mikhail leaned in toward her and his hands curled around her hips, gripping her tight. “A slayer killed Ilya. Pulled the womb from her body while she still lived. And when none remained but me, he taunted me with the knowledge. Burned and tortured me. Flayed the skin from my body and threw it into the flames. And when I thought I’d go mad from the need for revenge and from my own helplessness, the slayer pierced my chest with a silver-tipped stake and left me for dead at the bottom of a tomb.”
Truth.
Claire’s breath caught in her chest and she eased herself toward him until her back rested against the unyielding wall of Mikhail’s muscled chest. His hands snaked around her waist and he pulled her closer. Such a natural place to be, held in his embrace. Claire trembled, fearful of her reaction to him and the ease at which he put her. “How did you survive?”
Mikhail’s lips came to rest at her ear and he inhaled deeply, holding his breath in his lungs for a long moment. “I was weak. Starved. Hopeless and helpless. Alone. I lay in that dank, dark, cramped black hole for a century feeding on rodents and whatever small creature found its way inside. One hundred years before I could gather the strength necessary to slide the heavy stone lid aside and set myself free.”
Claire’s hands snaked around his and she squeezed him tight. “One hundred years?” she breathed. The span of time was incomprehensible to her. “Mikhail…” Her heart ached for him. For everything he’d lost. Suffered. Survived.
His lips found the juncture of her jaw and throat. Claire shuddered at the wet heat of his tongue and tilted her head to the side to give him better access. He opened his mouth wide, the scrape of his fangs across her skin causing Claire’s abdomen to tighten and her sex to throb. She reached back and threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape as her head fell back to rest on his shoulder.
“Why did you turn me away like that? I thought that you wanted me, but…”
“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you.” His fingers traced a path along the shell of her ear and she shivered. “I wasn’t turning you away, Claire. I was protecting you.”
“From what?” she murmured.
“From me.”
“Mikhail, I think it’s time you let me decide what I need protection from.” She reached up, dragged the tips of her fingers across his jaw, her nails catching on the short stubble. “Because it sure as hell isn’t you.”
“I’ll never take sustenance from another for the remainder of my existence. Never put my hands upon another female. You belong to me as surely as I am bound to you. And that knowledge will be my undoing as surely as any stake driven into my heart.”
Claire shivered at his words. “Why?”
“Ronan thinks you a Vessel.” Mikhail’s voice was almost a palpable thing, vibrating along her flesh. “A human made for a vampire. Strong enough to survive the transformation and able to bear the weight of the Collective.” He let out a soft snort. “A hopeful fairy tale.”
She didn’t dare turn to face him, just focused on the sound of his voice and the way his fingers gripped her. “What’s the Collective?”
“It is our memory. Vampires are connected through blood. The single source that created us. Our memories are one and it can be a heavy burden to bear.” He paused. “It … weighs on the mind.”