The Last True Vampire(65)

She swallowed down the fear that welled up fresh inside of her. Holy crap, Claire. What have you gotten yourself into?

* * *

Mikhail had tucked her into bed just before sunrise. He slept peacefully beside her, the slumber of the undead, she supposed. Claire had learned something about Mikhail Aristov over the course of the night: He kept his promises.

He’d made love to her for hours. He’d spent that idle time between her legs, lazy passes of his tongue that sent her into a state of ecstasy so intense that she’d sworn she was having an out-of-body experience. He’d made love to her slowly and gently. Fucked her hard and with a rough edge that excited her and made her beg him for more. He’d taken the vein at her throat, her thigh, and her wrist, greedily devoured her until Claire once again reached that point where she was more than willing to offer up her life to him. Only to have him pull away and lave her wounds once the high of their orgasms ebbed.

Mikhail had made many, many promises to her tonight. One of them being that he’d turn her before the week was out.

A vampire by Friday. She snorted. Sounds like the name of a hot new band.

She’d barely dipped a toe past the surface of his world and now he wanted her to jump right into the deep end, headfirst. To Mikhail, there was no longer a question. No more doubts. He was convinced she would survive the transition. She belonged to him, and in order for her to truly be his she had to become a vampire. He didn’t even ask her opinion on the matter, just made the proclamation. Ronan had called Mikhail a king. And not for the first time, Claire recognized that regal high-handedness in him. There was only one option: Obey.

She didn’t know if she was ready for this life.

For days she’d been shut up in this house, closed off to the world after dawn, living in a sunless state and only allowed to see the world through night’s cloak. She missed her job, interacting with other people. Hell, she even missed her sore feet and achy back at the end of the day. She missed Vanessa. Was she okay? Eating? How was school going? Was her mother even trying to stay sober?

Panic surged in Claire’s chest. She threw the covers from her body and launched herself from the bed. Her breath raced in her chest and her heart beat so frantically, she thought it might burst through her rib cage at any second. “Jesus Christ.” Barely a whisper and yet as good as a shout when keeping company with creatures like Mikhail. He stirred in the bed, the blankets falling away to reveal the muscled perfection of his chest. Her panic ebbed by small degrees and Claire tiptoed to his side of the bed and stood over him, her curiosity piqued when her gaze landed on a star-shaped scar that puckered the skin above his heart. She hadn’t noticed it earlier, so blinded by her passion.

She reached out and traced the rough edge of skin. His brow furrowed in sleep and his lip curled into a feral snarl. The man sleeping before her was as much a wild animal as a tiger roaming the jungle. Just because he looked domesticated didn’t mean he was tame. No, he was a killer, ruthless and fierce. He took what he wanted without apology. And he’d made it quite plainly known that he wanted her. For eternity.

Eternity!

Another bout of hyperventilation overcame her and Claire leaned over, putting her head between her knees. It was impossible to think clearly when he was near. His presence commanded her attention, drew her to him. When he was in the room—hell, just in the house—Claire felt his presence so acutely that he might as well have been under her skin. How could she possibly make a logical decision when she already felt fused to the man lying still as death beneath her touch?

I have to get out of here.

It was all too much. She didn’t trust her mind, her feelings. She didn’t trust herself to make a rational decision when he put his hands on her. His mouth … Claire shivered at the memory of his touch and found that she was leaning toward him, reaching out as though helplessly drawn to do so. She’d give him anything he asked without thinking twice about it. So much for the street-smart, savvy hustler. All it took to bring her down was one gorgeous, commanding vampire.#p#分页标题#e#

Go figure.

Claire retrieved one of Mikhail’s discarded shirts from the floor. It hung almost to her knees and the sleeves fell far past her hands. She was never more aware of his size than she was right now, swimming in the garment like a toddler dressed up in an adult’s shirt. He’d ripped her bra in half. Her jeans, too. Obliterated in his haste to take her. A rush of warmth spread between her thighs at the memory. Jesus, Claire. Get it together! The mere thought of Mikhail turned her to mush. Which was why she needed to get the hell out of there so she could think straight.